A Homeless writes on the Ballot?
O the rich Winter comes
Poor Man's eternal enemy?
I have to move from my cardboard house
Nearby the Railway Station.
A hole in my old boot
and a penny stuck in the wallet?
I have to skip fish oil
the doctor prescribed for cholesterol
But I have to fill my miniature empty bottle
with that weather-beaten Elixir?
For decades I just dropped my poor vote
to every Tom, Dick and Harry
But still it's a dream
The handsome politician's usurp Utopia!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Have You Ever Tried To Run Faster Than Someone Else?
Why not?
Yes of course Sir/Madam!
In my frequent nightmares
When a shrewd politician chases behind me
to get my humble vote?
And when the bearded Landlord
grumbles of the house rent?
In reality,
When the Beauty Queens undress in semi-darkness
and try to hug me affectionately?
and the poor Pickpockets in their hard career
ready to snatch my holey wallet?
et cetera,..............................!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Withered grass on the playground
In the morning I dropped my grandson
to the Kindergarten
And I watched a Father plays football
with his daughter.
My inquisitive mind traveled
to the bygone years,
How my poor Mom was sitting in the tuck-shop
and watched my acrobats in the playground?
I like to go to school again
But my loving Mom I don't know your whereabouts
with my old books?
I am old now and see the nearby burial grounds
Some stray dogs play with their puppies?
'No man is poor who has had a godly mother.'
-Abraham Lincoln
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sand bag
The bigamous chauvinist politician son tells his poor father
While his concubine on the treadmill to reduce her bad cholesterol,
'Hey! Old man please do not enter barefooted and all the way you bring dirty sand into our bungalow.'
Poor father returned to his shack and on his way back he picked a fistful of sand from the premises and kept in his holey satchel as a keepsake.
*Damned politics;
The one and only career that doesn't require qualifications but hypocrisy?
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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The Boy who Sees His Dark Face After a Long Time
A market place where nearby
The old Railway station
Under the hot Sun,
The shoeshine boy
Not yet ten
With his holey satchel
Who shines the old retired
Bachelor Station Master's shoes
And he sees on the toe his dark face
After a long time since the day
Broke the mirror
And kicked his Mom away
By the drunkard father!
(To the Brazilian authoress Carolina Maria de Jesus
for her diary 'Child of Darkness'.)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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[email protected]
And he writes;
'I buy a bottle of red wine
from the lottery scratch
but it's not much?
Just a ten dollar bill.
And I try to eradicate
my bad cholesterol.
I take only a teaspoon
before the supper
but I noticed the level
that goes down faster
to the bottom,
Then only I realized
It's a tablespoon
I have used?
*to that homeless who said; 'If this not a non-filter cigarette we could have shared it brother, believe me I do not have any sexual transmitted diseases and try a puff if you like? '
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Deprived daughter of a Homeless
Poor ragged Cali looks in the mirror (lid of a can)
That hangs on the cardboard wall
And she mutters; 'If I become Miss World
And when a handsome tycoon brings a gem studded Crown?
I humbly bow him and test whether it fits for my nutty head.'
*Dedication to the Honourable Governor Mr.Jerry Brown for healthy, wealthy and a beautiful California!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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In memoriam of their serenity
I like to sleep again in a cradle.
Where is my perambulator?
I lost my feeding bottle
and the bootees are not fit now.
My beautiful mom who was the protectress
of this fawn.
When I crawl you gave me your big hand
my handsome dad.
Where did you go with my poor mom?
It's unbelievable,
When I take my children to school in the morning
I see both of you through the mist at the handrail
with my old books.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Miss Sandy!
Troubled nature's waves
named as Sandy!
And they do all the precautions to survive?
But the poor man's hurricane longlasts since the beginning
as simple poverty and the rich binoculars
never see them as their own brothers & sisters?
to my poet colleague Pranab!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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April Moon hides in the unrelated sky
I do not see any difference between Saudi Arabia and the state of California.
It's really warm here now.
I peep into the vessels from the Seaport of Jeddah Tower
How they dropp their anchors in the designated positions with a singsong?
Here I stuck in a Gas station and I watch the pale blue night sky.
It's the same Moon and nothing being changed but I have changed my dear!
I am almost old and sick
And I cannot play the lute like earlier as the loosened strings never gives the heart-stricken melody.
Now I realized the sky and earth are entirely different
Though it's belongs to the same Master.
Along this parallel journey we never come across and let the mysterious fate dance as usual with the poor souls.
nimal dunuhinga
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.................... .....................
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soup Kitchen
When the Election draw nearer the handsome politicians are served free to the poor,
And the innocents believe the franchise is a golden opportunity to bring their fans to the mesmerizing stage.
Afterwards, the poor dance like puppies to the sopranos and the stronghold does the sordid Puppetry.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Elizabeth
I am not telling anything about the Queen,
Her name also Elizabeth but her Palace
Somewhere else, in front of an old Railway station.
She cannot sleep well because of the express trains
But some nights she dreams the Commonwealth it seems.
One night after a couple of drinks I searched some notes in my wallet
But they were disappeared secretly and I gave her some coins.
She said; 'Thank you Mr.Edinborough you know my mother's a seamstress to a bygone Queen and she gave this beautiful name.'
I didn't correct my name and I said; ' Yes, Mrs.Elizabeth I 'll convey the message when I go to the Palace for music lessons.'
*I dedicate this to the old senile woman who slept on the road that stuck in my memory and torments me all the time!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I watch the Snowy Mountains in Corona
Somehow you're lucky
Hugging the Snowflakes!
And I am drowning in the life's-soup boiler.
Darling Corona, We have to move again to Anaheim
That's an order from the invisible Hands
And the poor Gypsy and his beloved pack the things into cardboard boxes
Where this tiresome journey stops?
* Humbly to the poetess Fay Slimm!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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For The Time Being
A handsome God and an ugly devil live in this poor man's worn heart.
When he gets sick the handsome prescribes medicines and the ugly force him to hard liquor.
When the poor man got drunk; he shouts ' No doubts I see the fundamental road ahead that leads to heaven & hell, but I am totally drunk
And it's too far to walk through the sober lane, better I relax here for a while at the signal lights until the green sign flickers.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Sun gossips in the night
I saw in a dream all of a sudden the Moon collapsed
And I cried; Sun came to me like an old friend and murmured,
' Not to worry my chum and she will be back when the world turns better.'
* The poor man's worst enemy is Hunger.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Magnificat
The poor still wait
for bolted doors to open
hunger to be filled
and concern to replace
the deep scorn
of the rich, who believe
God is on their side,
who offer golden chalices
and cathedrals of crystal
to purchase
eternal life
with God, who remembers
the poor
will fill their every
need
but send away the rich
with nothing
no things to carry
in their powerful, sleek cars
to their empty houses
silent houses
stony, soulless
mansions,
nothing
but their names
on fine marble
engraved,
yet the poor watch
and still wait.
poem by Steven Federle
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In the Dim Light at the Threshold of a Parisian Bar!
Cezanne and Renoir
At a corner table
Younger Artists
Matisse and Picasso nearby
Finishing a bottle of Rum!
I want to ask them
About 'The Girl with green eyes'
Henry Matisse's best work for me
And 'Guernica' Pablo Picasso made me a mad!
My beloved switched on the ceiling lamp
And said; 'Hey! Honey it's Mother's day'
Then I thought of my two Mothers!
My poor Mom & Beloved!
And I collect my scattered pastel sticks,
Then wife says; 'You finish it next year that I am sure.'
'Certainly I want to send a painting for an International Art competition
And If I win darling I'll piggyback you up to the Eiffel Tower
As I heard in my dream poor deceased Mom works there in a Cafeteria!
(To all the Mothers of the World who contributed their tears in vain for the Oceans. Brother killing of each other not yet finished?)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Trembling leaves of the money tree
Poor souls pray beneath the tree,
If a strong wind comes
Leaves would be scattered
And they can pick into their bags.
Yes, the storm came but leaves are still there
And the poor souls blown away!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I seek my little Hometown
*['Sleep, little darlings, I watch while you slumber.Oh sun! Divine sun! Ripening the pumpkins everyone.']-'P'ere Goriot', Honor'e de Balzac
I peeped into the vast World map
and found my pearl like tiny island Sri Lanka
in the Indian Ocean!
And I marked my Hometown
'Katubedda', actually we had a house of our own there
Poor Mom built that from our loving Father's
Working compensation, who died
under an Aircraft hanger at the age of 32.
There's a famous University in Katubedda
and luckily I got an opportunity to jump there
for a brief course 'Radar Observation & Plotting'
It's a part of my seafarer career.
Now I observe my poor companions there
and plot their whereabouts in my inquisitive mind?
Their day to day greetings, smiles and cries
I see and hear on my heart screen
Black & White!
to the blind Violinist Mr. Gilbert who fiddles at the fish market on sundays!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Chronicle of a strange Trollop
She invited them for the dinner.
Tom's a Mason, Dick a carpenter and Harry a painter.
When they finished the dinner,
Tom did some masonry,
Dick repaired her antique bed
And Harry painted the kitchen.
Their pretention looked as drunk
And want to stay the night it seems?
But when they see the one-eyed butcher at the back yard with a sharp knife
All greeted her politely and left the premises quietly.
*Wish you all a Happy Christmas and a Properous Nerw Year!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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