A death in the opposite house!
[Mother-that was the bank where we deposited our hurts and worries.]-Thomas De Witt Talmage
I was sitting on a small chair
in the patio,
Like bygone Seafarer days on ship's deck?
And my beloved boils the Asparagus for tonight
in the kitchenette.
I count secretly who crawls to the funeral house?
A lady with an umbrella in this late evening drizzle
Squeezing my hand that resembles Ms.E-death in my nightmare,
inquires me; 'Honey! Funeral is here? '
I pointed out her the front house with my index finger
and murmured to myself 'Thank God! still I breath comfortable here? '
*Yesterday's Tuesday, April24,2012 @ 10: 00a.m. I scribbled this on a piece of paper in UMass Memorial University Campus, Worcester.
While I was waiting for my Colonoscopy test carries out by Doctor
Christopher Marshall, MD.My dear Mom! part of your humble dream comes true as I touched for the first time in my life, the campus soil, but I am sorry that 's not for your dreamy studies and for my sudden Endoscopy?
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Undergraduate
He runs around the campus premises
All of his life, but the gate were closed all the time.
The wall is too high though he tries to jump
And the sentry is very rough inquires the documents.
He holds only his tattered certificate of birth
And it's already expired it seems for the enrollment.
(I dedicate this poem to Virginia Tech Campus victims.)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A looseleaf diary of a philander
He writes secretly in flowing hand;
Monday evening to be at Mary's house
And on the way back if not late
Just try to dropp in Lucy's apartment.
His beloved wife Rosemary added openly;
Tuesday early in the morning definitely
I'll rush to your worst enemy's place temporarily.
*Carefully chum of your whereabouts.
The ruinous wedlock is a great disaster.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Love Unrequested
The lady across the road had beautiful grey hair, thick and
glossy, I admired her mane because she was eighty five.
Her hubby about her same aged died, I attended the funeral,
open casket, in death he looked handsome, old man asleep.
When people get old some do not realize how old they are,
and the old lady, since I had admired her lovely hair, thought
we could be a couple; only I was fifty two at the time and not
overly interested. The lady took offence felt humiliated since
she already had told the villagers I loved her.
A day when I was doing a bit of weeding around the house
She came out; called me a womanizer hit me with her umbrella.
Well I´m not heroic, fled into the house and bolted the door;
and the villagers were greatly amused. She moved to a rest
home and I could go out without being assaulted. I read in
the paper she had just died at hundred and five, but I will not
attend her funeral….I think.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I was born in a University campus and seem to have lived all my life in one campus or another.
quote by Amartya Sen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The narrow passage; A blue haze of cigar smoke
Here the boisterous dockers
They play cards
Billiard & Snooker
Some concentrate
The slow moves on Chess
Drink beer
Soda & Water
And blow bubble-gums.
The young Lad, An apprentice in the graving dock
Who's seated in front of a Promiscuous beautiful Lady
Half drunk it seems on a stool
Who exhibits accidentally her new pantie
While moving her skinny legs apart.
The boy's intoxicated
By inhaling the unrestricted cigar smoke
And he heard a ship's horn at the Wharf
By the time the cargo vessl cast off!
He daydreamed that he's sleeping in a luxurious cabbin
With the new panty lady
Until his drunkard Bosun Uncle
Woke him up to go back home!
*[A humble attempt to revisit my swings & roundabouts of sunk bygone seafarer era! Now it's like a forgotten black & white dream, I stranded on Horizon mending my torn sails with a phobia of serious death threats! ]
To oskar & Rahul Atik my fellow Seafarers!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A tendency to ignore the realities of life?
Painter! Is this a void picture
Or am I blind?
Let it be in its true colors
And please do not whitewash.
Poor carpenter who makes for others
But in his house there's not a comfortable chair?
And the skinny Mason does leveling
on this unbalanced World.
That luminous board never says
The right place where the road ends.
On the way I met her holding an Hour glass
and she gave the name and address
in the pitch darkness!
When I read it under the dim street lamp
O it's just a blank paper?
to my friend Pranab who lives in Calcutta!
*['What I am looking for is a blessing that's not in disguise.']-Kitty O'Neill Collins
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Drifter as Driftwood
The knock-kneed girl who wears a knee cap, beautiful flowery knickerbockers and carries a knapsack?
A knick-knack around her slim neck and tossing a Kopeck in a narrow cobbled street she walks towards home the late evening.
I feel lonely myself with the sorrowful Sunset and before midnight I must go back to the ship as she suppose to sail early in the morning.
I regret that I couldn’t ask her name and I made a note in my diary with an asterisk.
I gave her a name “Stella”; my ships name.
She resembles the actress “Lara” in the film Doctor Zhivago.
I start to write a short story that would be an endless which I have to throw into the sea.
I see her fading land from far away and it’s like a peaceful dream.
I strum my old ukulele to the beat of ripples.
And the sleep peeps secretly into my disarray cabin.
*A seasonal greeting to all my poet friends!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Death Is Theatrical?
I just murmured;
'Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf'
and looked around in the theater.
Then an unknown person I found
seated behind me
and he was told;
'You have come to know me soon
And I am your native humble funeral caretaker
Barney Raymond's representative in the States
Very helpful to the downtrodden.
Burial could be in the motherland with all the rituals
and your known people.
Not to to worry about the expences and we have our own flights
like a rocket your corpses reach there and the *kindest President
will be there for the ceremony? '
I was really scared for the last night's nightmare.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Twilight at a window
A funeral procession
Only the dead person's Kith & Kin?
No long hearse and they carry the cardboard casket
on their bony shoulders towards the pauper's graveyard!
And he sees through his shattered window
Perhaps the poor man's wife cries behind
And the children not aware of the mysterious death
play on the road?
A radical film maker with his Cinema team
Takes pictures for his documentary film
'Poor man's rich funeral'
And he gives few notes to the widow as a gratitude,
She must have seen for the first time in her life
That tricky big colored notes?
[How could I have come so far
(And always on such dark trails!)
I must have traveled by the light
Shinning from the faces of all those I have loved.]
-Thomas McGrath, American,1916-1990
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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And I Always Keep The Distance?
I remember one day you're standing
with an umbrella in a drizzle at the long dreamy bridge?
And the secret river of love flowed quietly.
It's a Moonlit night and I was not quite sure
Either you, Moon or someone else
danced with ripples?
Let me say again please
That I was the poor river bank
Under the lonely Bamboo grove
And I always keep the distance?
to John Nebaza who's from Uganda!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Homecoming
You came as a drizzle
When I was exhausting.
Then you touched my soul
Like a feather.
I thought it's a dream.
When I got up
I saw you were laying aside
as a sleeping beauty.
All of a sudden you are here unexpectedly
as a snowhite.
It's not a day dream.
[We started living together]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A painted Woman in A Drizzle
Low limbs of the live oak twist
like overlapping black rivers
across the sky.It is easy
to feel lost in the maze
of their convoluted journey
The World is Green Again
-Marjory Wentworth
Normally I do not go out with an umbrella
And it's a drizzle late in the evening
On my way back home from the library.
She smiled and ready to share the umbrella
The silence said in between us.
O the fingernails sharp and beautiful
And I was scared of her adhesive thick red lips
If I attached how could I go back to my beloved?
If not the umbrella her beauty washes
That's certain and her magenta colour transparent skirt
I saw the whole World of innocence!
'Rain seized and she said; Time has come to say Goodbye
And thank you very much for the warmth Grandpa! '
I said; 'It's a pleasure daughter! '
She turned to the upper lane and I used my usual gravel road.
In the darkness I whispered ' That name's already registered in the book of life forever Grandpa! '
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Quiescence here like his deep poems!
'Here you come to New South Wales'
The board by the roadside glitters!
And I got down from the bus
A limousine for the first time in my life?
O it's an unusual quietness in this burial grounds
Situated in a small town perhaps his birth place?
At last after roaming around
I found his humble tomb!
I touched and it's cold
Like frozen death,
Suddenly I woke up!
But I was not certain
Whether it's morning
Or still it's night and where I have been
With my teary eyes?
*[He sent me his two poetry books 'Poems that bloom in my garden & The ancient poet', few weeks before he dies and this was written on the back with his mischievous hand writing and the friendly signature! .................To Nimal, my brother & friend thank you for being who you are.-Paddy Martin]
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poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Blue Collar Guy
Imagine a burly guy in denim jacket
capbill shadowing busted nose
hairy mitts gripping coffee mug
sitting at a table in the Union
on the campus in Hyde Park
gazing with wonder at a girl
seated opposite him
bright-eyed and fresh
in sweater and jeans
I thought then of my father
a man who had toiled
a lifetime in the mills
so that one day he might
visit one of his children
on a university campus
He was a blue collar guy
who never read poetry -
his life was an epic!
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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A lullaby for the stillborn infant who sleeps in a trash bag
Oh! What a sad circumstance is this?
I could have die in the war or could be blind forever.
I touched the baby girl's limbs and it's still warm.
Her poor mother has gone for milk or ran away.
And the unknown infectious father must be stuck in a brothel house?
Oh! My dear you haven't seen the precarious life in camouflage.
That's better as it's rather bitter to swallow.
Please do not open your small eyes my wingless bird
And sleep as much as you can.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Chaperone and Granny flat
The middle-aged woman lives in this apartment with her far relative girl.
She goes to work early in the morning and comes back late in the evening.
The woman left in the house alone the whole day.
She is a spinster in her late forties.
The story begins in this lonely house with two spinsters.
Yet the girl is a teenager.
Once in a blue moon a boy with emerald eyes who comes to see her in blue patchy denims.
“Nowadays he comes very seldom
But very soon the day comes
That he will be here everyday
And one day he takes you away.
Then no more news from you
And I would be the loner again.”
One Sunday morning the girl woke up late as it’s a holiday
And she found those lines written on a serviette which has kept on the kitchenette table.
Nobody knows about her aunt’s whereabouts
And her name was registered in the missing person ledger nearby police.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Repartee of a Renegade?
Skinny Mom walked towards the gravel road
Where the Pawnshop stands,
Pawned the talisman and her few 22 carat gold jewelry!
She bought for me the valuable second hand books
from the senile professor's house.
Chemistry, Biology, Physics and Trigonometry.
Zoology, Psychology but not Sexology?
O my poor Mom gone with the wind?
The oil lamp's short wick half asleep
Not enough paraffin it seemed?
Moonless nights in the rainy days
Lightening helped me to read well the old books.
But my sad letters soaked with tears for the test papers
Heartless Examiner purposely rejected and I was failed.
Studies were stopped in the drought!
But still I learn in the life-school
The circles, triangles, full stops, commas
Semicolons, question marks & proper nouns.
How beautiful if the World's a Square[In geometry, a square is a regular quadrilateral. This means that it has four equal sides and four equal angles (90-degree angles, or right angles) .]
Then I could have hide in a dark corner and cry!
But it's global & rotates with educated politicians
Throws me here & there like in a Gymnasium?
[My dear poor Mom! ,
I requested from a Medical faculty in a University here that we're (beloved & myself) voluntarily willing to give our useless bodies one day when the breathing stopped that would give much benefits for others when they do a research of our mysterious souls! Not yet responded from that end?
Mom! Casket is very beautiful but expensive than the life here?
Everybody comes to the parlor and give their respects at last, that's all! ]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The dark memories of our fading childhood
When rich boys get down
from their parent's luxury cars
My courageous Mom takes us
to school in a public bus.
Remember once she said humbly;
'Do not worry my dear sons
study well and one day
I can see you all take me a round trip
in your cars with the fiancees.'
Yes dear Mom!
I have my tumbledown car
and whenever I go out
with my beloved wife
I check in the mirror
and I see you're sitting behind
with a smile, and I look back
It's only an illusion
and you're not seen
We two only in the car
at the jouney's end?
[My mother had a slender, small body, but a large heart-a heart so large that everybody's griefs and everybody's joys found welcome in it, and hospitable accomodation.]-Samuel Clemens
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Campus Cat
Shivering and wet
Had been drenched by a drizzling rain
The Campus cat waits, beneath a lamppost
She had come, to brave, the cold
For rent has to be paid, a life is to be lived,
The landlord, a deadline he did.
Conjuring home images, sky, the Stars lit,
Father, mother, and siblings, faces bright
She had passed, colours flew, a future, then, so bright.
Hmnn, in campus, Eat as you pay!
Or rent a cube, pay, get on with life, read, pray!
Pockets run dry, no food, just nothing, home is away!
Hmnn, a car, pulls
The campus cat, cat walks,
Hand beckons, door closed, tomorrow, lectures!
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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In ever loving memory of so & so?
'What's life? It's the flash of a firefly in the night.It's the breath of a buffalo in the winter time.It's the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.'-Unknown, Coffee News Metrowest.
These days I quit reading
all the long articles in the papers
Except obituaries and horoscopes?
I told my beloved
When she inquired;
'Darling! We must take some
close-up sepia colour photos,
perhaps one day they publish
in this column,
At least that we have survived here
as a spicy-Cookery teacher
and an old mad-scribbler? '
'Then you said once
Bards never die? '
And she cried.
'No darling! We never die
Only passing away
from this cruel World.'
I pacified her.
to that mystic woman Laila or Edeath who roams around in my faded dreams and undress in front of my beloved? I am scared not the death but women in nude?
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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