A Mason's daughter and a Carpenter's son
Each & every muddy brick
And the wooden planks of their house
Whisper about the courageous parents
And the cottage comes up gradually.
The proud sky is bit inquisitive it seems
And the humble river says;
'Do not worry, their innocent roof won't touch and bother you anyhow.'
Big ferries cross the river with huge cranes and building materials
And the proposed 'Toy Factory' build up very soon as per the country bald-headed Mayor's election promise.
The old ferryman sings in a sad voice late at midnight;
'Hey! Dear Sons & Daughters
Definitely you all get jobs
And you meet strange faces with a new busy culture.
But don't change your lifestyle and let them burn your halcyon cottages
Those were built by your poor parents hardly.'
*Certainly the rich stormy winds ruin the bourgeoisie Folklore.
-From the poor ferryman's Scrapbook.-
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Swansong
A poor ferryman is crossing the quiet river
and suddenly she changed into a whirlpool.
The swing bridge is in full swing
with the east wind
and the fading twilight sky
looks like a watercolor painting.
I can hear the ferryman's whimper
who hides at all.
A dealer, poor girl's money lending uncle
who takes her cunningly to a Manor for housekeeping.
I read the ferryman's teary eyes
where it stuck the hidden words there.
'Be careful my little red riding hood
when sweeping the garden
specially under the thorn-bearing trees
don't be in barefoot.
I am waiting for you my sleeping beauty
and whatsoever I promise you to marry
in the next equinox'.
To the poetess Amanda.Lukas
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I was born by the River
My scholar friend keeps his late Grandma's diary
And a certain page was highlighted in the color of yellow.
My old ferryman you never realized that how I deeply loved you?
Since in the cradle the word 'depth' I heard several occasions from my parents.
They always talk about the mysterious river's depth.
But I am grown up now and I understand the nagging life is more deeper than the river.
A hidden alligator in the river takes a soul away once in a way
And you disappeared without saying me Goodbye!
I murmur your everlasting song while sitting on my sick bed.
'This old vehicle stops at all railroad crossings
As I am really scared of painful death.'
* My humble dedication to Sam Cooke for quoting his wonderful song's title.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Ferryman and His Blind Dog!
Villagers were certain that he died a long ago
But I met him last night at the river bank.
Though his dog's blind wagged its tail
While I was talking to ferryman.
He said the Blacksmith his old friend has borrowed the ferry
To bring his forgotten tools but he's scared
Whether he could row safely to this side
As the weather was not so good?
Then I said I am going back home
And he gave his kind regards to my parents.
On the way I realized that my parents were no more
And all were in the same boat!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The hidden song in the black river
Every year there are about fifty or more victims; They drowned and never returned.
Where you hide them in your precious muddy bottom?
I see the old ferryman and his blind dog cross the river and I wait at the bank to hear more news of the missing souls.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Pride of Parents
Parents of sons and daughters,
Of their fame, grew proud.
Minded not by men who throng
Their sons and daughters,
Parents went pale of their pride.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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House of fire (Lyrics)
House of fire
House of fire, yeah
Let's build a house of fire, baby
Not one of wood or stone
Walk thru my door of desire, baby
Come on in and make it your home
Don't need a window to watch you, baby
Don't need no roof overhead
Don't need no key to unlock ya, baby
I'll use my lovin'instead
I won't tire
Take me higher
Building a house of fire, baby
Buildin'it with our love
We are buildin'a house of fire every time we touch
House of fire
House of fire
We ain't gotta pay rent now, baby
No landlord to throw us out
I want to play in your garden, baby
When you want it give me a shout
I won't tire
Take me higher
Building a house of fire, baby
Buildin'it with our love
We are building a house of fire every time we touch
We are building this house together, baby
Standing on solid ground
We are building a house of fire
That you can't tear down
Brick by brick the flames get higher
Build it strong with our desire
Building a house of fire, baby
Building it with our love
We are building a house of fire every time we touch
We are building this house together, baby
Standing on solid ground
We are building a house of fire
That you can't tear down
Building a house of fire, baby
Building it with our love
We are building a house of fire every time we touch
poem by Satan's Sibling
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If somebody knows who takes his last breath?
He will get panic
and no more time to think of loved ones.
Breath fast to gather more air
and he sees the ferryman is waiting afar
to cross the river.
His song echoes; 'my dear you cannot postpone
this journey, get ready soon
and I have to come back for the others'.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A River For Him
(emmylou harris)
I crossed on the river
Therell be no returning
I crossed all the bridges
I watched them all burning
And now Im a stranger
To a strange land Im driven
Where all is forgotten
And nothings forgiven
But I cried a river
A river for him
Thats deeper and wider
Than Ill ever swim
The heart it will harden
The sorrow will dim
But I cried a river
A river for him
I think of him now
On the road I am taking
And wonder how long
His heart will be breaking
But hell never hear when
The teardrops are falling
Or the sound of my voice
And the name Im calling
But I cried a river
A river for him
Thats deeper and wider
Than Ill ever swim
The heart it will harden
The sorrow will dim
But I cried a river
A river for him
So sweep for the sons
And the dear darling daughters
For the passing of time
And the parting of waters
For all who have passed through
This world long before me
To a far distant shore line
Where no one waits for me
But I cried a river
A river for him
Thats deeper and wider
Than Ill ever swim
The heart it will harden
The sorrow will dim
But I cried a river
A river for him
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Y.... River meets desert
A young river,
So strong
Nothing could stop it
Nothing went wrong
Big rocks in its way
No problem at all
It went over them
Around them if tall
But then it met the desert
Water sank deep into sand
Huge problem for the river
It looked like its life was to end
Desperately
It turned to our God
'Please, God help me
To get away from or over this spot'
A voice from above said
'Look at the wind in the sky
It crosses the desert so easily
So just stop to cry! '
'But I am not wind, I am water
How can I cross
Please help me
I am at a loss'
'Did you forget dear river, '
Said the voice from above
'Long time before you were a river
The wind carried you with love'
The river let its water evaporate
Allowed the wind to carry it once more
In its loving arms,
wind held the river as before
Across the desert they went
A lot of water in a big large cloud
And at the other side
The wind let it rain out
There the river again became strong
Even better and stronger than before
With much vigor it ran
For everyone to adore
Dear young men and women alike
If you meet with the desert or anything wrong
Remember who carried you
Before you became a river so strong
poem by Aufie Zophy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Are you rich?
Because parents are rich
I am not rich.
Because brothers or sisters
Or in-laws are rich,
Because own children are rich
I am no richer.
Unless I myself am rich
I cannot be rich.
Too late to understand
And hence poor I went.
Agartala
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Dog River Blues
Well I first kissed you on a hollow log
Down by the river they call the dog
We fell in love and we vowed that day
Like the flow of the river our love wont change
Well we married that spring and we built a house
On the bank of the river where the rock juts out
Now the rivers still here but youre long gone
You left me and the river here all alone
I got the dog river blues
Ive walked holes in both my shoes
Now I still got the river but I aint got you
I got the dog river blues
Well the rain came down and the river rose up
Filled up the cab on my pickup truck
It came in the house and down the hall
And washed your picture right off the wall
Chorus
Well my heart still yearns and the river still rolls
And I pray someday itll bring you home
So if you change your mind honey Ill be here
Waiting on the banks of that oldog river
Chorus
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The hiding song of river
This destitute soul swims upstream
And the silent riverbed keeps memories of the bygone heroes
Who were defeated by the ruthless current.
The fading ashore like a mirage
And this poor chap almost tired.
'It's a long journey my dear chum
And nobody returns with the trophy.'
An old ferryman's sad voice echoes in a distance.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Resurrect the old culture.
The culture is rich
Where guilt, conscience and shame warn.
The culture is fair
Where repercussion and prosecution warn.
The culture is poor
Where escape is the root to success.
Culture stands for name.
Greed and insecurity have marred it.
It is high time for parents
To ask their children to resurrect the old.
02.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Where I Live....you Know It.
a house is built
made of bricks, red as blood
at the center of the island
black as a mole
at the middle of your right
cheek
it is fenced by the locks of
your hair
it is guarded by the cautious
tongue of your face
at the other side
bounded by a big brown river
is a cottage
no living room, no kitchen
not even a restroom
it is just a square cottage
with roof leaking
where i can see the stars
if you know me well enough
for years that i have been with you
and for days that i have left you
you shall know where i live
and if you love me well enough
you'll take nothing with you
to follow me
and i know you will never be lost
until you find
the place where my heart sings
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Repost....
a house is built
made of bricks, red as blood
at the center of the island
black as a mole
at the middle of your right
cheek
it is fenced by the locks of
your hair
it is guarded by the cautious
tongue of your face
at the other side
bounded by a big brown river
is a cottage
no living room, no kitchen
not even a restroom
it is just a square cottage
with roof leaking
where i can see the stars
if you know me well enough
for years that i have been with you
and for days that i have left you
you shall know where i live
and if you love me well enough
you'll take nothing with you
to follow me
and i know you will never be lost
until you find
the place where my heart sings
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Build
Clambering men in big bad boots
Dug up my den, dug up my roots
Treated us like plasticine town
They built us up and knocked us down
From meccano to legoland
Here they come with a brick in their hand
Men with heads filled up with sand
Its build
Its build a house where we can stay
Add a new bit everyday
Its build a road for us to cross
Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots
Whistling men in yellow vans
They can and drew us diagrams
Showed us how it all worked it out
And wrote it down in case of doubt
Slow, slow, quick, quick, quick
Its wall to wall and brick to brick
They work so fast it makes you sick
Its build
Its build a house where we can stay
Add a new bit everyday
Its build a road for us to cross
Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots
Its build
Down with sticks and up with bricks
In with boots and up with roots
Its in with suits and new recruits
Its build
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wading Birds
Cranes and Herons fly in the twilight sky
A loon idles at a riverbank,
Full Moon peeps like a new coin to illuminate the dark side of life
And the ferryman shouts; 'Nobody wants to cross the river.'
* That both I and you have had to travel and trudge through the long round is owing to our not discovering, not penetrating the four truths.What four?
They are the noble truth of suffering, the noble truth of the origin of suffering, the noble truth of the cessation of suffering, and the noble truth of the way leading to the cessation of suffering. [The Buddha]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Prose Poetics-10
Wonder these daughters and sons
In every next house imposing
Their taste of costume, hair-style
Accessories e.t.c on parents
Just for the sole reason
That it is social indignity..
What way their prestige is lost?
'Or else' some wish
'I' prefer to be present
without my mother on occassions'
All said in a tv show
Some mothers pitiably agreed to change
Which I don't agree
Also the panel judge
Feared the disappearing love, respect
Concern for the parents all in a sweep...
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Bridge Across the Crick
Joseph Jones and Peter Dawking
Strove in an election fight;
And you'd think, to hear them talking,
Each upheld the people's right.
Each declared he stood for Progress and against his country's foes
When he sought their votes at Wombat, where the Muddy River flows.
Peter Dawking, scorning party,
As an Independent ran;
Joseph Jones, loud, blatant, hearty,
Was a solid party man.
But the electors up at Wombat vowed to him alone they'd stick
Who would give his sacred promise for the 'bridge across the crick'.
Bland, unfaithful politicians
Long had said this bridge should be.
Some soared on to high positions,
Some sank to obscurity;
Still the bridge had been denied it by its unrelenting foes -
By the foes of patient Wombat, where the Muddy River flows.
Up at Wombat Peter Dawking
Held a meeting in the hall,
And he'd spent an hour in talking
On the far-flung Empire's Call,
When a local greybeard, rising, smote him with this verbal brick:
'Are or are yeh not in favour of the bridge across the crick?'
Peter just ignored the question,
Proudly patriotic man;
Understand a mean suggestion
Men like Peter never can,
Or that free enlightened voters look on all Great Things as rot,
While a Burning Local Question fires each local patriot.
Joseph Jones, serene and smiling,
Took all Wombat to his heart.
'Ah,' he said, his 'blood was b'iling'
He declared it 'made him smart'
To reflect how they'd been swindled; and he cried in ringing tones
'Gentlemen, your bridge is certain if you cast your votes for Jones!'
Joseph Jones and Peter Dawking
Strove in an election fight,
And, when they had finished talking,
On the great election night
They stood level in the voting, and the hope of friends and foes
Hung upon the box from Wombat, where the Muddy River flows.
Then the Wombat votes were counted;
Jones, two hundred; Dawking, three!
Joseph, proud and smiling, mounted
On a public balcony,
And his friends were shrill with triumph, for that contest, shrewdly run,
In the House gave Jones's Party a majority of one.
Jones's Party - note the sequel
Rules that country of the Free,
And the fight, so nearly equal,
Swayed the whole land's destiny.
And the Big Things of the Nation are delayed till Hope grows sick
Offered up as sacrifices to 'the bridge across the crick'.
Dawking now is sadly fearing
For the crowd's intelligence.
Joseph, skilled in engineering,
Full of pomp and sly pretence,
Still holds out the pleasing promise of that bridge whene'er he goes
Up to Wombat, patient Wombat, where the Muddy River flows.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Familiarity For M'lady Ann
The river as it flows on by.
Softly sings us a lullaby
Our cottage built of weathered stone
sits by the riverside alone.
Here where we raised our family
we are still living happily
Al though the family have flown
and now have children of their own.
The house was here before we wed
and will be here when we are dead
But until then we’re satisfied
to live beside the riverside
and listen to the lullaby
the river sings as it flows by.
22/04/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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