A Reaper
He dances with his shadow
To the tune of cicada's chirp
In the middle of the night.
Harvest has stolen by an unknown,
The poor farmer's beholden
And how he shows his indignation?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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In shaded oak crowns
A cicada chorus sings.
Crickets chirp at night.
haiku by Paul Hartal
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A Cicada Shell
a cicada shell
how like a porcelain
it breaks piece by piece
after a noisy night
the cicada waves at me on the floor
with its legs
A cicada shell;
it sang itself
utterly away.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A strange farm girl
She smiled with the old farmer's son
And he thinks that she's different from others.
The way she holds the sickle
And her talking manner too.
After the harvest festival
She's not to be seen anymore and the farm boy is sad.
''She's with her far relative here
On her school holidays and then back to school.'
His inquisitive widowed sister told.
She helped to the Harvest and not only that
And she's stolen the boy's mild heart.
How many school holidays have passed?
And the usual harvest never stopped.
The farm boy has taken
His deceased father's burden
And like a nonentity he just walks towards the barn!
* 'There are times when silence has the loudest voice.' -Leroy Brownlow
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Shadow Me
Shadow me oh my
Dark emotion.
Shadow me all the way!
Shadow me to rock
In cradle heart,
To sway and just to sway!
Shadow me as a
Shady love tree,
In my hot, scorching day!
Shadow me must in,
Middle of night,
Like a gleaming pure ray!
Shadow me, shadow,
My foggy love,
Shadow wild me to tame.
Shadow to follow
My every step,
Shadow me in each poem!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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This time in june
It's june
The farmer's spell
With cutlasses and hoes
We rushed off our feet;
Off to the feild we go
It's june
The farmer's delight
With so much rigor
We worked our fingers sore
And in the night
We barely had a sleep
It's june
The farmer's joy
The heavens had opened up
Their hearts upon the earth
For the farmers household
It's time to toil
So, in november;
When harvest finally comes
The farmer walked with pride
It's the pinnacle of his yeild
And he is proud to trade
So, in november;
When harvest finally comes
With basket and sacks
We headed for the feild
It's time to fill our barns;
Even our bellies,
Also; the farmers wallet
A heavy weight to lift
And for the farmers household
It's time for spoils
This time in june;
It was a different story
And my father says;
No pain, no gain!
poem by Bolami lawal
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Three—With the Moon and His Shadow
With a jar of wine I sit by the flowering trees.
I drink alone, and where are my friends?
Ah, the moon above looks down on me;
I call and lift my cup to his brightness.
And see, there goes my shadow before me.
Ho! We're a party of three, I say,—
Though the poor moon can't drink,
And my shadow but dances around me,
We're all friends to-night,
The drinker, the moon and the shadow.
Let our revelry be meet for the spring time!
I sing, the wild moon wanders the sky.
I dance, my shadow goes tumbling about.
While we're awake, let us join in carousal;
Only sweet drunkenness shall ever part us.
Let us pledge a friendship no mortals know,
And often hail each other at evening
Far across the vast and vaporous space!
I Wonder About The Cicada That You See
i know that this morning
you walk on the park
on a sunny day and it
is, of course, hot
and then you see this cicada
and i wonder if it is
singing
or grumbling
on this very hot sunny day by the park
i wonder if the cicada stares
at you
i wonder if you talk to the cicada
i wonder if
something happens that you
cannot just forget
about the cicada
i wonder if everything is unfinished
images half-printed
i wonder if at all, to whatever we see and feel and
talk about i wonder if
there must be conclusions
i wonder if
we must limit only to our own observations
leave it that way
like a bat hanging on the wall
and then
just that, whether if flies away or drops dead
you say
i do not honestly know and
i have really nothing to say
i like it with you,
something unfinished, and perhaps that is the beauty in you
this suspended suspense
suspenseful till nowhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Weird-Bird
from the wire chirp
on the wire chirp
frantic head
to and fro
to and fro
chirp, chirp, chirp
little bird on a wire
head and beak
to and fro
to and fro
ten times in a second
tail up, tail down, tail up, tail down
the tight feathered bodice
doing a twist
legs angled tight on tiny wire
a tightrope walker
chirp, chirp, chirp
looking for some fun
looking for a companion to share its day
chirp, chirp, chirp
inspired by
Weird-Bird
Birds are flyin' south for winter.
Here's the Weird-Bird headin' north,
Wings a-flappin', beak a-chatterin',
Cold head bobbin' back 'n' forth.
He says, 'It's not that I like ice
Or freezin' winds and snowy ground.
It's just sometimes it's kind of nice
To be the only bird in town.'
Shel Silverstein
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Me And My Shadow
Sometimes, my shadow appears really short and small;
Whilst, at others, it stretches ahead of me, thin and tall.
Sometimes, my shadow is behind me; sometimes it’s in front.
Quite often, for my shadow, I find myself having to hunt.
Depending on how the street lamps shine their light,
My shadow may be hidden, or may be within my sight.
Sometimes, I have two shadows, plus me;
Then I appear in triplicate: one, two, three.
Sometimes, when I take my time, my shadow seems to rush;
My shadow dances round me, amid the dark night’s hush.
When I wander through an unlit patch, my shadow disappears;
Although I cannot see it for a moment, I know that it is still near.
As I emerge back into the light, I’m rejoined by my shadow.
My best buddy and I are very firmly attached, down at the toe.
My shadow is featureless; of me, it’s just a darkened outline.
During my night-time journey, it’s an ever changing design.
To my shadowy friend, I do feel really very attached.
We are two of a kind, and, I think, very well matched.
My shadow and I, travel everywhere together;
From each other, we will never ever be severed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Farmer's Song
....and the farmer sing a song
a song of bountiful harvest.
His face covered with sweat
but he smiles as bright as the sun
and the farmer sing a song...
'Oh, gracious heaven
thank you for this day
thank you for this bountiful harvest.'
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Harvest For The World
All babies together
Evry one a seed
Half of us are satisfied
The other half of us in need
Loves bountiful in us
Tarnished by our greed
Oh, when will there be a harvest.. for the world?
(harvest for the world)
A nations planted
So concerned with gain
As the seasons come and go, we wont wait in vain
Far too many, feelin the strain
(chorus)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest for the world)
Dress me up for battle
When all I want is peace
Those of us who pay the price
Come home with the least
And nation after nation, tuning into beasts
(chorus)
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest..
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I and my shadow
I and my shadow
Are in the auditorium
To watch the dances
Of the sun and the moon.
The sun the moon
The earth and and all
Are dancing singng
Simultaneously.
I am not there to keep
Account and my shadow
does not ask me question
As a honest parter.
I and my shadow
Are here to watch
To listen the dances
And the music keeping
Fully well Roses
Not rose not on
All the ways.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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First Encounter - RabindranathTagore's paintings
Tagore's Last Harvest
a child putting wings
to his imagination
Tagore's Last Harvest
behind the colours and lines
a child
Tagore's Last Harvest
the nobel laureate dances
with ink and pen
Tagore's Last Harvest
the colourful images
of a colourful life
Last Harvest an exhibition of 49 of Tagore's paintings
are exhibited in Kuala Lumpur Visual Arts Museum for three months
April to July.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Ever So Tall Giant!
The farmer was busy ploughing,
With three fields left to do,
When a figure overpowering
Came suddenly in view...
The giant stepped across the gap
In seconds so it seemed,
The farmer thought he'd had a nap
And this whole thing was dreamed...
The farmer blinked yet stood his ground,
The giant's shadow loomed,
The giant's voice a booming sound...
The farmer thought, 'I'm doomed! '
'Don't be afraid, it's only me! '
The giant said amazed,
The farmer gulped quite suddenly,
For he was feeling dazed...
The giant smiled a lovely smile,
No bad thoughts on his mind,
The farmer stared up for a while,
His neck somewhat inclined...
'I'm from another planet, friend!
Just visiting, that's all...'
'Good God, will wonders never end?
How did you get so tall? '
'I'm only tall on planet Earth!
At home, I'm normal size!
I exercise for all I'm worth
And study so I'm wise...'
The farmer groaned, he'd hurt his neck!
'Your poor neck must feel numb!
I know I'm tall, but what the heck!
Wait till you meet my Mum! '
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Untitled
Sure/go to cali/have fun/bring me back/a silver gun/
let me shoot/a hole in the sky/give the moon/another
eye/so I can see/deep inside/in the place/where all
time hides/where people go/after their gone/and love
without love/still marches on/to the tune of a different song/
to the tune of a different song/miss me when your gone/
to the tune of a different song
you left your heart/in san francisco/getting down at the
disco/when she walked up/too your hand/danced you
down/danced you down/when you land/land on me/you see me/
I'm off the wall/against the wall/I can't call/you can't hear/above the
noise/above the sound/she dances you up/she dances you down/
I grab my coat/and then I'm gone/ to the tune of a different song/
to the tune of a different song/miss me when I'm gone/to the tune
of a different song
the holiday covered in snow/now you're back/where'd you go? /
you got a number/she give you her's/was it hot/ what've you got/
did she take your breath away/what have you got to say/did she take your
breath away/on the beach/in the sun/on the sand/on the run/ in the heat/
in the cold/what have you got left to hold/she took your hand/but now she's gone/
and here I stand/life goes on/to the tune of a different song/to the tune of a different
song/miss me when I'm gone/to the tune of a different song
Drinking Alone
I take my wine jug out among the flowers
to drink alone, without friends.
I raise my cup to entice the moon.
That, and my shadow, makes us three.
But the moon doesn't drink,
and my shadow silently follows.
I will travel with moon and shadow,
happy to the end of spring.
When I sing, the moon dances.
When I dance, my shadow dances, too.
We share life's joys when sober.
Drunk, each goes a separate way.
Constant friends, although we wander,
we'll meet again in the Milky Way.
Li T'ai-po
tr. Hamil
A farmer does not boast that he has had a good harvest until his stock of yams lasts till the following harvest season.
Everybody Dance (The Dance Of The Dead)
As the sun sinks upon the horizon,
As the dark night creeps in,
The dead dance.
On the streets they roam,
Silent,
Alone.
Everybody dances,
The saints and the sinners,
Everybody dances,
To the sound of the rhythm,
Everybody dances,
The dance of the dead.
The dance of the dead goes on,
And on,
Never stops,
Never slows,
Time does not matter to the dead.
Everybody dances,
The poor and the rich,
Everybody dances,
To the cries to the babies,
Everybody dances,
The dance of the dead.
As your time goes up,
The dead dance into your room,
Filled with silent movements,
They twirl with grace,
And style
And ease.
They reach out their hands,
And you take it,
And join the dance of the dead.
Everybody dance,
The young and the old,
Everybody dance,
The music is playing,
Everybody dance,
To the dance of the dead.
C’mon,
Everybody dance,
Soldiers and lovers,
Oh,
Everybody dance,
To sound they cry,
So,
Everybody dance,
To the dance of the dead,
The dance of the dead.
Oh,
Everybody dances,
Because the dance never stops.
6/05/06
poem by Charlie F. Kane
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Restricted Area
High voltage in the air
No way to know its good or bad
Dont try to trick it down
Otherwise you could be dead
So just look out
It may be mean
Just cant be too afraid of this machine
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
Restricted area
Your brains been mesmerized
And in your mind this place is full of steel,
So full of steel
So shift to overdrive
Crash away the gang with the men from another space
So be aware
Just leave the scene
The worlds been metallized by this machine
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
The worlds been metallized
A hole in the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Its a restricted area
Hold on - hold on - hold on
Your brains been mesmerized
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Youre heavy metallized
A hole in the middle of the night
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My God witnesses every thing
My God witnesses every thing,
the woman crying at night
about the child that she doesn’t get,
the robbers sneaking around in the day
driving away with stolen cars,
the poor living in shacks
who have to live on a paupers wage,
the farmer working in his fields
who goes home at dusk,
the barbarians that assault him later
and kill him with panga blades
and there’s nothing that passes by my Lord
and on His time His justice follows,
His salvation and wondrous deeds unfold
and every day He sets the way
that every one of us go on.
poem by Gert Strydom
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