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Battledore

Today, I knelt in front of a flowery altar and prayed.
Oh! My dear God; I have a dilemma since my weak childhood.
Why these fragrant flowers short-lived
And wither?

*Dedication to Jett.Travolta for his son's untimely tragic death and also to the innocent buds where they sadly disappear in the raged battlefields in vain.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Joss stick and fragrant flowers

In front of your statue
I burn on the same altar
With a smell of incense
Among these soft tiny flowers.
And I realize that I convert into ashes very soon
As the flowers wither.
We never live together for a long,
And I hope we meet again someday
Somewhere beyond the sky?

A humble dedication to the poetess Sue Ann Simar

*Remember the sorrows of earth.Look with kindness on those who suffer, who struggles against difficulties, who drink of the bitterness of life.
-Prayer in time of need.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Love and Flowers

Love is like flowers,
that bud, blossom, bloom,
and sadly sometimes
fades and die.

Like flowers of the seasons,
that brings colours to our world.
Love has the same effect,
bringing sunshine o our lives.

Like the flowers that wither and die.
Love can sometimes wither
eventually to fade away,
but not always.

10 August 2007

poem by David Harris
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A Helicopter from the Hell

It's a metallic gray color and roams in the nameless sky
Drops pamphlets multicolored to the rage battlefields
On this decent planet Earth.
I saw an orphan child picks one and reads aloud;
'When a Man meets a Man? '

* A humble dedication to the Haitian victims those who departed untimely.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Scattered Dew Drops On The Sleepy Grass!

Hey! You hear the secret cries of the pale blue sky
In the morning she pretends nothing has happened
in the previous night.
The tear drops certainly disappear in the Sunrise
And my little orphan girl don't get tired with your cane basket,
Leave the dew aside and collect few flowers for the altar!
She cannot speak but her depressed eyes talk?
'Flowers too wither Grandpa! '
Her gloomy eyes murmured like a sinsong
And the gravedigger hugs her thinking of his far away grand daughter!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The garden

I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene
As it was unusual for me to have seen
The death of son who was born some hours back
Everybody in home were stunned and in shock

The garden comes to life when season comes up with flowers
It was evident from the fact that earth had enough of rain showers
My garden too was blessed with arrival of beautiful baby
We all had prayed for it so song and became so much happy

The happiness was short lived as child breathed little
We all tried hard but he breathed for a while and failed to settle
This was totally unexpected and sent us in shock waves
He brought the hopes for short while and caved in

I was given no room to think about the sad departure
The child was our great hope for the future
Even though I had daughter and son in family
The child was welcome and we missed him sadly

If all the flowers in garden boom freely and survive
No one may have faith in god and believe
Some flowers fade early and some stay for longer
It is philosophy of life that we all are stage actor

I consoled self and left it to the best counsel
Even though it was difficult to come out and feel well
I gave final look at the dead son and dropped few tears
The grief was proving difficult and taking me over

I know it is very difficult to bear and act
It is not in our control also to deny the facts
Life is temporary stage and one will have to leave
There is no other option and we got to believe

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Today Is The Only Day

Cry not on flowers wilted,
Count not on buds that canker might blight,
But marvel over beauty blossomed!

Extinct are our Yesterdays,
Illusory are our Tomorrows,
Today is all that exists,
What there is and all there is.
Today is our way up hill
The arena for action decreed
The stage set for the show
The tool and trade for life.

Today well lived leaves -
Every Yesterday
A reminiscence - sweet to relish!
Every Tomorrow
A vision glorious to chase!

Drool not, hence, over yester years
Rant not on chances missed
Greet Today, right in front!
Render it your respiration and perspiration
Turning Yesterday - a commemoration
Tomorrow - a stimulation
And life - a celebration!

poem by Valsa George
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California Dreamin’

I remember 1967
the hippies and the summer of love,
flowery clothes
and flowers in your hair.
The wonderful gentle music
that floated in the air everywhere.
Those enduring tunes
that are still pleasing to hear today.
When people flocked to San Francisco
and went California dreamin’ on the way.
A time of peace and love
that sadly we don’t have today.

11 October 2009

poem by David Harris
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Frozen Buds

Frozen buds are born into the world of blood and hate
They fall day by day
Caught up in the storm of rages.
Young lives are wrecked
Childhood is turned into cold hate
Guns are thrust into small hands
Innocent tears run down dusty cheeks
The tears of a newborn child run into rivers of blood.
They are forced to hate
Forced to kill
Forced to sacrifice their life for something they do not understand.
Many childhood years were cut short.
Their childhood was frozen
Wrecked from the start of their lives.
Innocence to anger
Toys to guns
Guns to kill
They do not deserve this life.
Where is human kindness?
Forever fearing
Forever scarred
Frozen buds live to drown in a never ending hate which was never theirs.

poem by Natasha Kirke
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My Valentine Date

Today my heart is red
Gentle as bread
Three roses colour red
Fragrant as my Mildred

She’s my dear love
Innocent as dove
The queen of club
Playful like a cub

My true valentine
Entices to dine
Lips as sweet as red wine
Embraces like vine

Box of chocolate
For my valentine date
But what I hate
I’m gonna be late

A bouquet of flowers
Brings forth showers
In my dear heart’s tower
Sprouts like flora grower

Together our hearts
Bound by a dart
Though it didn’t hurt
Court’sy from D’angel of hearts

Her laughter I love to hear
All these years
Yearns to be near
With my lovely dear

poem by Noel Horlanda
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My Innocent Childhood

soil soil and soil, , playing in the soil,
No fear of disease, no fear of toil.
What a wonderful days that was,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..

Only friend no foes,
no thinking of what dont and what does.
No fear of future, no thinking of present,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..

What was the past, leave it, it surpassed,
what has to happen, lets face when it comes.
Future planning! What is this?
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..

Play was religion and play was God,
only thing which gave fear, was my fathers rod.
Crying crying crying a lot, then said love you pappa,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..

poem by Zeya Mallick
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Yesterday's Flower

Yesterday's Flower

sunshine falls on potent flowers
like the nectar of youth's love
' blooms in emerald green ', held captive rose buds

dance to the music of the wind
life at first soft and sweet subtle
a whisper behind the floral scene

we're short lived as the fragrance arose
for the intoxication of seasons past
the celebration of flower's spring
worn thin life's very stem

dew drops hang so sparkling clear
and the musk of a honeysuckle nights
caress the moment and kiss good-by
youth the bloom of a new flower
now spent and broken
and the Fall winds weep!

' We are like a lovely flower, fragrant and firm until
the season of our lives take the lively parts slowly.'
For death waits for no one!

poem by Myrtle Thomas
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My Red Rose! What Can I Do for You?

Untimely death of flower buds
And some are bloom
Cannot see butterflies
Some they cannot hear
And communicate their innocent feelings too?
This poor bachelor gardener
Destined for watering with a holey bucket,
And you see the rickety shaking hands.
I see above through my teary eyes
Some passing clouds without any duties.
In the twilight sky flock of birds
Return to their roosts?
I go to my shack and jump to my dreamy spring bed
After a cheapest nightcap!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sonnet XXXVII.

The poet's fancy takes from Flora's realm
Her buds and leaves to dress fictitious powers,
With the green olive shades Minerva's helm,
And give to Beauty's queen, the queen of flowers.
But what gay blossoms of luxuriant spring,
With rose, mimosa, amaranth entwined,
Shall fabled Sylphs and fairy people bring,
As a just emblem of the lovely mind?
In vain the mimic pencil tries to blend
The glowing dyes that dress the flowery race,
Scented and colour'd by a hand divine!
Ah! not less vainly would the Muse pretend,
On her weak lyre, to sing the native grace
And native goodness of a soul like thine!

poem by Charlotte Smith
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Spring Pools

These pools that, though in forests, still reflect
The total sky almost without defect,
And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,
Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,
And yet not out by any brook or river,
But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.

The trees that have it in their pent-up buds
To darken nature and be summer woods -
Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away
These flowery waters and these watery flowers
From snow that melted only yesterday.

poem by Robert Frost
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Untitled 4

Mother! Darling mother, you are seeking me I know,
And I feel thy love will follow through the world where'er I go;
But I cannot come, dear mother; I am sadly altered now:
The once fair wreath of innocence that garlanded my brow
Has faded ne'er to bloom again; and from the things of yore-
The fair, the good, the beautiful - I'm severed ever-more.
My onward way must be a path of darkness and of pain,
But I must tread it all alone - I cannot come again.

Of all the changes that have come, I know that this will be,
Where all the changes have been sad, the saddest change to thee.
I know how much thou'lt weep, mother, for thy dear boy so lost,
And 'tis the sorrow thou must feel that makes me sorrow most.
I strove against this darker fate, I struggled, mother, long.
I starved and suffered months, mother, ere I was linked to wrong:
And even now good angels plead to win me - but in vain!
Once fallen is forever lost - I cannot come again.

I'm severed from thee by my sin, but cannot say 'forget,'
Thy love is such a hollowed thing, I ask it even yet;
But let it be a memory that images all fair
The child that with uplifted hands in faith knelt by thy chair.
Think of me, mother, as I was, when joy lit up my brow
And my young heart was innocent, but not as I am now.
Pray for me. This I know thou'lt do; but seek me not, 'tis vain!
I'd throw a shadow on thy home - I cannot come again.

They say that in desert drear some greenness may be found,
Some oasis in contrast strange to all the waste around,
And even thus, within my heart, guilt darkened though it be,
There is a love all-beautiful, that lives and clings to thee.
I'm weeping very bitterly, I cannot help these tears,
They are the tribute memory pays to joys of fleeted years,
Goodbye! God bless thee, mother dear! I sorrow for thy pain.
Oh! If I were but innocent, I'd gladly come again.

poem by Owen Suffolk
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The Banshee's Wail

Today, I listened to the banshee's wail
Some believe that to be an old wives' tale

Today, I heard the ringing of the death knell
Dry your tears and say your fond farewell

Today, I grew weak and expired
Another soul, the Grim Reaper acquired

Today, I drew my last breath and died
Burying your face in your hands, you cried

Today, I quietly passed away
Leaving something I failed to say

Today, I met my untimely demise
We didn't get to say our final goodbyes

Today, I silently gave up the ghost
No longer tied to life's whipping post

Today, I came to my life's end
It's a tough thing to comprehend

Today, I went to the hereafter
Think of me only with laughter

Today, I died due to the fall of man
The good Lord has a master plan

Today, I was committed to my simple grave
Rejoice, oh rejoice! Only Jesus can save

poem by Charles Hancock
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If only...

It would have been his twenty-third
birthday next month on the sixteenth.
Today we received a letter
From the government informing
Us our son was killed while fighting
The enemy in Kandahar
Afghanistan two days ago.
I cannot help feeling guilty
for our dear sons untimely death.
I could have fought his enlistment
Instead I let him convince me
That it was the right thing to do.
If only I had been more firm
If….If…he’d be alive today.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Either Fahrenheit or Centigrade?

Inside this rickety rib cage
Hanging the precious fragile heart
and the warmth of the furnace
Either Farenheit or Centigrade
That doesn't make any difference
and through the weak human veins
Carries the innocent red blood?
The kind & smart politicians
Speak all the languages of the World fluently
except the needy?
They make unnecessary rage battlefields
for shedding the innocent red blood?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Branded

Tragic is the self misplaced.
Tragic is a lost identity...
And no familiarity on anyone's face.
Tragic in denial
Sits the misfits feeling on trial
For lives lived reeking and stinking of bile.
Tragic for them,
Love is not recognized at all...
Nor suitable to start,
From a place within them that begins.
And this becomes tragic for those
Unlike them but comprehending,
These tragedies
May not always be self inflicted...
As they are branded!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Contemplation upon Flowers

BRAVE flowers--that I could gallant it like you,
And be as little vain!
You come abroad, and make a harmless show,
And to your beds of earth again.
You are not proud: you know your birth:
For your embroider'd garments are from earth.

You do obey your months and times, but I
Would have it ever Spring:
My fate would know no Winter, never die,
Nor think of such a thing.
O that I could my bed of earth but view
And smile, and look as cheerfully as you!

O teach me to see Death and not to fear,
But rather to take truce!
How often have I seen you at a bier,
And there look fresh and spruce!
You fragrant flowers! then teach me, that my breath
Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death.

poem by Henry King
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