An old henchman of a leading politician who sings in an underground Bar!
You can request any song
from ancient cowboy singer
to modern soprano.
When he's drunk
You can hear the strong speeches
from Hitler to Polpot & Idi Amin
And rest of all?
After sometimes he weeps
Then he mimics of all over the World
Bygone innocent Presidents
Until the Manager drags him out
from his neck?
to my school days brotherly friend Rufus Rajanathan(Sammy Davis)
who resides in New Zealand now as a Chartered Accountant if I am not mistaken, he has published a book regarding the cruel ethnic violence in our country(with a historical background) .........we never had any misunderstandings though he's Tamil because we believed the real humanity!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Rhubarb Mixture
When I sip my bitter & cheaper Beer mug
The nostalgic feeling of taste
Dragged me to my childhood memories.
If I am not mistaken approximately fifty years ago
I had a severe stomach ache and my poor Mom
Took me to a Government's free dispensary
Filling the address of a close by relative.
(Some restrictions for outer area patients.)
The Tamil Lady Doctor Mrs.Sathgurunathan
Who resembled the actress Saroja.Devi
Simultaneously she gave me two tablespoonful of Rhubarb Mixture
For purgative and stomachic bitter,
And the acute pain disappeared at once.
What a pity?
Oh! This Goddess was missing during the ethnic violence in our country.
I dreamed the kind Lady Doctor and my poor deceased Mom
Practise together in a free dispensary of a better World!
I come there soon for my parasitic worms in my knotty bowels
And I hope that soothing elixir still remain in your heavenly premises.
* A friend is the one who comes in when the whole World has gone out.
-Unknown
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A poor Cobbler's courageous Son
The barefooted handsome boy who mends shoes on a filthy street corner.
Passers by; Some they whisper that he should join the film industry.
A Varsity girl stops; 'Hey! Prince you don't go to school nowadays? '
'No, My papa was paralyzed and I help him.' The boy said.
'I love you Prince.'
'Oh! What a beautiful sentence is that?
But I am scared Princess.
When my Papa was drunk
He used to play the Mandolin
And sings in the night.
Love has mesmerized wings
in the unrestricted serene sky
And fragile souls swim and drown
in the Milky way.'
* I dedicate this to an innocent Cobbler who vanished during the ethnic violence in Sri Lanka.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The worthless stuff
I work here in a Gas station
As a Sales Associate.
But collect the trash bags
from the bins too
A part of my job?
When I remove the heavy bags
The kind customers dump?
My innocent thoughts flew without wings
to my bygone golden school days!
I love that old man we call him 'Charlie uncle'
Who collects garbage and look after the ground.
O that attractive Teacher for Literature
who wears Indian Cashmere saris at all
and she got dimples on her both cheeks
when she smiles!
One day she questioned me; 'Nimal you want to be a writer
Lawyer or a Doctor? '
'Yes Teacher, I would like to be a writer
If not a Scavenger? ' I replied happily.
To that uncle charlie & the Literature teacher!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Paddy sounds Great!
I have your precious two books;
'The ancient poet and Poems that bloom in my garden.'
The Keepsake and my travelling companion!
I reread your boisterous handwriting,
' To nimal, my brother, my friend
Thank you for being you are.'
And the mischievous signature below
Like your innocent smile!
*P.S.
It's a great forward for the book by Patti Masterman of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, U.S.A
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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While Eastern soul walks Westerly
He's an innocent Aryan
Who sees his cruel cousin
Adolf Hitler kneels at Anne Frank's grave
And cries aloud like a German Shepherd's yelp.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Humble letter to the Queen
Honored Madam,
I take this opportunity to wish you a happy birth day as I saw in the BBC the celebrations,
Oh! What a lovely pageant.
My blessings, you may long-lived!
Sri Lanka is once a colony under your kingdom.
Thank God we got independence.
But Madam you left your precious friend in our tiny country
And his name is ' Divide & Rule' a real gentleman.
One day some innocents died of a bomb explosion
But your precious BBC showed only the empty bus.
I think some defect to their cameras?
This ethnic cleansing is a by-product of your factory 'The Imperialism'.
Never mind Madam we can forget the past as we are Sri Lankan.
But I humbly request a favor Madam,
if possible could you please minimize?
You're prominent BBC's (Prima Donna) partial yelp!
Thanking you in anticipation of a kind and a favorable reply.
I remain Madam,
Yours most obediently,
A scribbler,
Nimal Dunuhinga
I dedicate this poem to Miss or Mrs. Dumeetha.Luthra (BBC correspondent in Sri Lanka) for your prominent double standard.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sweet-scented lavender shrub!
You have a gentle scent
But my odour of sweat?
You have that soothing colour
of bluish purple,
But I am just tan
As I work under the hot Sun.
I am scared to touch your soft petals
My palm is rough as I grip thorns in life?
Though I am sturdy
Please don't keep me in your arm's length.
Believe my friend!
My heart is a tiny fragrant flower
But none ever touched?
to my brotherly friend Romeo
many happy returns of the day!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Eggheads, Egotism & the heat of Election
The innocent folks' tin roof shatter of their sweeten speeches.
They show you the deeds while holding the Aladdin's wonderful lamp
And they request you to supply fuel and light up the mysterious lamp.
But the poor citizen are very familiar with their usual limbo.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Bride from an Orphanage
An innocent virgin from a hidden haunted house
Who comes out to the new civilized world?
The Bridegroom is unknown from the lower depths?
We all wish them a happy wedded life forever
And bring a dozen of polite offspring to this lopsided cruel world?
* I humbly dedicate this poem to the prominent Sri Lankan singer Maestro Pandith Amaradeva and the lyrics of this great song by the celebrated poet Mahagama Sekara............
' The river flows from the past
And the beauty of the dream world
I see in your eyes
my beloved.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A little angel who sings beneath an old bachelor's little sick heart
Thank you my dear little angel
Sing little louder please
As my hearing is little weak
Like the fragile little heart.
I remember once
I too sang my sad song
With my little companion viola,
Low pitch in solitary parks.
But angels were not seen
Those days.
Yes, my lost youth full of songs
But nobody knows
And only the withered flowers
Just smiled with a teardrop
In their innocent eyes
But I was little scared of unnecessary taboos
And left behind!
* I humbly dedicate this poem to my silent poet friend Dave Tanguay who resides in Florida!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Brother! It seems to be an off-season
The magical song birds flew away from the uncle's orchard without informing him.
The trees some were uprooted and old as same as uncle's gray beard.
I remember the bygone days when the fruits were laden and ripen on the tree tops how they danced merrily?
But now no more any singsong or a friendly chat and only you hear is the faint whisper of decaying leaves over his pet dog 'Marco's' silent tomb.
*Hey! My dear friend nothing could be hold firmly as everything disappears like in a sad dream.
This poem is a dedication to my friend George.Murdock in gratitude.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My dear uncle
To my dear uncle Prabahkaran,
I lost my parents, brothers and sisters.
Only I was survived
And I am eight years old female child.
My father is a Buddhist and mother Christian
And I am an innocent.
All my books and uniforms burnt
And I cannot go to school now.
I am not angry with you
If possible please adopt me,
Treat me as your child
And send me to a school.
I promise you one day I learn Tamil well
And solve your problem; “misunderstanding”
Not with guns uncle,
With my little knowledge I gained from your school.
Please don’t believe these Norwegian peace-broker uncles
They dream of our future Oil –Rigs?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Winter Loom weaves a sad cloth?
[Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work.]-The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth
In this winter gloomy morning
I see your sad face like in a dream
and the silent whisper of an old poem
I could hear at the threshold.
'Is this a morning or a night
I cannot see you or touch
and hear too friend.
Am I alive or dead? '
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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An old bee in retrospect among the fresh flowers?
['I had three chairs in my house; One for solitude, two for friendship and three for company.']-Henry David Thoreau
Is this the same old garden?
But a juvenile gardener
watches there
and variety of fragrant flowers!
I am just an old guest
with this tattered satin coat
and they do not pay any respect?
I remember the bygone days
How Roses were shivered
When I hummed and roamed around
And Daisies humbly worshiped
when my strong wings fluttered.
O the old age is sad & wearied
and nobody wants to pass a friendly smile
withered flowers too quiet and don't know why?
Anyway, I do not keep any grudges
That I can promise though you ignored?
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Handsome Ambulance driver's wealthiest fiancee and the heart patient
'I am taking her, the innocent girl
to the emergency unit,
sorry I cannot attend to your
Birthday party, please excuse me! '
He passed the message to her.
And she betrayed him
As she found her new boy friend
in the party, a minister's prodigal son?
And the innocent patient girl
recovered from her surgery,
It's not a dream
She recognized him in the hospital
Some other day!
nimal dunuhinga
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A twitter bird cries?
I hear early in the morning
on a Cypress branch
That covered with snow flakes.
O this sad song!
'How do we bear all these pains
and we have little hearts
One of our friends
passed away two days back
a songbird!
Is God too dies? '
to Harriet Beecher Stowe for her 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'!
nimal dunuhinga
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Wet Park Bench
*In my schooldays once in the Victoria park in Colombo I met him, an elderly person like a beggar with a heavy book, 'Baghavat Geeta' he holds and his name is Patrick Gabriel....may he rest in peace now! ]
After the storm
Life back to normal?
An old man who sits on a bench
Half asleep and a heavy book,
and a mackintosh aside,
still slightly wind
turning the pages of the book?
And a soft bookmark
flies in the wind
leaving all the burdens
probably his keepsake
who knows?
to Dr.Suzie Gharib still breaths in a corner of this ridiculous World?
[Thank you nimal for this tribute. I am overwhelmed. My absence from this web was due to personal reasons because nobody silences poets in Syria. I have published six books here. I lived in Scotland and Australia but it is only in Syria that I experienced the sense of freedom and unbridled expression. Do not believe what the advocates of democracy say on the news. Look at my new poem The Assyrian which I posted today(PH) . Thanks again and best wishes.]
[Let the words I speak today be soft and tender, for tomorrow I may have to eat them! ]-Unknown
nimal dunuhinga
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He fixed his rickety ladder to the transparent sky!
Quits the school
Hardly he climbed up
The Nonentity.
'O I see the World in its real shape now.
The desperate younger generation of Arab World
Rushed to him and it's seems to be a mistaken.
O I am not the God but an ordinary crawling Man
Because of the Global warming and the unnecessary
Heat of the War I have come to the summit.
Yet I could advise you as an elderly person,
Before searching the God in the sky
Try to find your own brother in peril next door.
Death and destruction everywhere!
*6-year old brings loaded gun to school; 3 hurt in accident.
How sad this World, buying a gun is very easy but you have to wait in the line long hours to buy a loaf of bread!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I walk slowly to my old thatched school
Birch trees have taken off their winter clothes
And exposed to the smiling Sun.
I see no raindrops and birds flew in the sky
Some robins chat with the worms on the playground
Where my grandson merry with the other children in the school.
And the bell rang all lined up like a fancy train to go to their classes.
I was so sad where's my school and the golden class.
The parapet wall divided the Girl school next door
Remember we peeped through the broken spaces
When the flowery girls come out to the grounds!
I was like a punished student at the belfry hall
In the bygone schooldays?
If there's a school for elderly/handicapped
I'll get a photocopy of my tattered certificate of birth
And I really dream to enroll as soon as possible?
[A new broom sweeps clean, but the old brush knows the corners.]
-Irish Proverb
nimal dunuhinga
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I believed in Bobby Kennedy. Campaigning for him was an attempt to give back something to this country that has given me so much.
quote by Sammy Davis, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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