He plays his old Mandolin on a Sunday Fair!
As far back as the 4th century BCE, Greeks such as Aristotle and Euclid wrote on naturally-occurring rudimentary pinhole cameras. For example, light may travel through the slits of wicker baskets or the crossing of tree leaves.[1] (The circular dapples on a forest floor, actually pinhole images of the sun, can be seen to have a bite taken out of them during partial solar eclipses opposite to the position of the moon's actual occultation of the sun because of the inverting effect of pinhole lenses.)
The rich man after he dies
Goes to Paradise!
And the poor man
While he lives on & off
Goes to hell!
And after he dies
Nobody knows
Where he goes?
Your shiny coin
And my rusty till
They're forever friends!
The droplet from pauper's Bar
Wet my dry gullet in the night
And I get a sound sleep
Sometimes with Queen of the Night.
Hey! My young Amateur photographer
Take a picture from your pinhole camera please
And I protect that photo for my obituary notice!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
The Beat
Everything changes,
Except for me:
This paradox burns my boots,
And into life I pass;
Beating the well-meaning devil phrase,
Long night's doctrine,
pharasaism of time;
A jolt to the groin, pinhole of supergas-
I remain upright,
old lion in trance.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Sleeplessness
Through the elements of fear in faith
you become vulnerable to conversing legends.
The reclining god was stolen from the temple
for a weeping skull.
Red clover will interrogate the blurred sky
for domestic violence of dark themes. Ashes
in a terracotta urn were not involved
of a body disrobed. A prosaic
flight of birds was circling around a humpback
sleeping on a lone bench.There were no qualms
in valley of ebbing coat of arms.
You want to coax the nuts and screws
to shut the thousand windows.
A pinhole camera may not be able to capture the light.
poem by Satish Verma
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Every single moment I too spin with my Karma!
Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune
Pluto, Mars, Mercury,
Earth, Moon and Venus
Inside the Asteroid belt
Sun you give us the Light!
You rise every morning
And set every night
According to the same shift
I work for my stingy pot bellied Boss
And get a pay check every fortnight.
Earth spins and travel around the Sun
It takes 365 1/4 days,
Every moment,
I too spin with my Karma
And when I get a total Solar Eclipse?
(During a Solar Eclipse, the Moon moves between Earth and the Sun and blocks the Sun light for a short time.)
*My grandson's picture book 'The Sun' (Allison Lassieur's) forced me to scribble this...................
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Poor, Poor Country
Oh 'twas a poor country, in Autumn it was bare,
The only green was the cutting grass and the sheep found little there.
Oh, the thin wheat and the brown oats were never two foot high,
But down in the poor country no pauper was I.
My wealth it was the glow that lives forever in the young,
'Twas on the brown water, in the green leaves it hung.
The blue cranes fed their young all day - how far in a tall tree!
And the poor, poor country made no pauper of me.
I waded out to the swan's nest - at night I heard them sing,
I stood amazed at the Pelican, and crowned him for a king;
I saw the black duck in the reeds, and the spoonbill on the sky,
And in that poor country no pauper was I.
The mountain-ducks down in the dark made many a hollow sound,
I saw in sleep the Bunyip creep from the waters underground.
I found the plovers' island home, and they fought right valiantly,
Poor was the country, but it made no pauper of me.
My riches all went into dreams that never yet came home,
They touched upon the wild cherries and the slabs of honeycomb,
They were not of the desolate brood that men can sell or buy,
Down in that poor country no pauper was I.
* * * * *
The New Year came with heat and thirst and the little lakes were low,
The blue cranes were my nearest friends and I mourned to see them go;
I watched their wings so long until I only saw the sky,
Down in that poor country no pauper was I.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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And If An Old Man Dies
AND IF AN OLD MAN DIES
(Yet another reflection on Koheleth)
And if an old man dies
And leaves behind him nothing-
And if an old man dies and leaves behind
Much family and wealth
And friends who remember him-
And if an old man dies
And leaves behind him
A reverenced work
Esteemed through many generations-
And if an old man dies
With a name mankind wishes to take with it to its own grave-
And if an old man dies
And nothing survives of humanity
And all his works and wishes
Bound up with the being of others
Who earthbound will die with the Earth
Or transformed into other kinds of being elsewhere
Lose eventually their essential humanity-
And if an old man dies
As all die
And if we stand forever alone in a universe unknown,
Then what else is there but praying to God
And hoping
That somehow beyond it all in some way we cannot now understand
An old man‘s death will be more or less
Than what we can think or know it to be now-
And if an old man dies,
And somehow never dies
And if God saves us all
And if we are surprised
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Inner Music of a Dumb Orphan Virgin
The rich stars begin to scatter in the twilight sky
And the haughty Moon peeps like a new silver coin.
I hear the melody; the rattle of her rusty till
And she begs on the muddy road with her usual grimace.
I want to call her my dear sister,
It's getting dark and the time has come to go back home.
Isn't it?
She doesn't know how to express
That she is homeless it seems.
I saw a tear dropp falling from her eye into the till
And I am scared that would have melt coins.
I am very sorry my sibling
And please do not think I am stingy but penniless.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Raven cries near the Mulberry bush
I have flown all over the sky
And really dishearten
of the Freedom!
Do you have enough room
for me to caged?
Then the philanthropist replied;
'I have a caged bird a different color
And she wowed to stay forever,
If you're able to compromise her
Frankly telling you that I have no any fear? '
*Disco Queen Donna Summer dies at 63
and my deepest sympathy to her!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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But Half A Man
When illness ravages the body,
And skin glistens so damply.
When blotchy is his countenance,
Pity is the result of his semblance.
As his body determines to be out of control,
And normality is nothing more than a pinhole.
These are times before drugs kick in,
Pain barely surmountable causes chagrin.
This moment I see unquestioning love,
His comfort attains restful harmonic octave.
Undeserving you spend your self,
Generosity and grace your abounding wealth.
He can but a scintilla repay what is owed,
You insist on showing love that only to be followed.
Love that makes half a man a king,
With a heart that like 1000 choirs sing.
So his queen of hearts,
Your half man will gradually depart.
As the half man has lesser control,
He loved but grew to love you more than whole.
R. K. Hart 8/11/2012
Friendly fragrance of the night flowers
Some they bloom in the night
While the other flowers, bees and butterflies were slept.
A way lost desperate hornet comes and verifies;
'Are these tears or dew my dearest,
So warm under the Moonlit night? '
'It's a mixture of dew and tears comrade,
A fine elixir that keeps you young forever if you taste.
And do not bother to wake up in the broad daylight.
Brother you can jump into a sound sleep indeed
until you come again to my Promise land.'
Queen of the night played her role very efficiently.
* Dedication to poor harlots for their eternal struggle.
Also to my new Irish friend Todd Hatchard who's a short story writer accidentally I met him in Huntington Beach on St.Patrick's day.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Mannequin and a pauper
This nonchalant beggar who loves a model queen
in a showcase.
When his till is full of coins
he just heads for an isolated pub
drinks a little and have a scanty meal of junk food.
In the night he backs to his ramshackle bed on the pavement
and makes a sound sleep.
They never talk each other and only in dreams
they wander hand-in-hand in no-go area; the 'paradise.'
poem by 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
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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It's really hard for me to perform the three consecutive roles in my new drama?
The eccentric playwright describes his melodrama;
'You're the King, Pauper
and the beautiful Queen.
One thing you have to be very certain & careful
Do not mix up the dialogues.
The last act I was that beautiful Queen
in my Rehearsal and all of a sudden
The handsome pauper disappeared.
By mistake I begged and the dialects I pronounced not in the script?
'Please don't betray me as I love you so much! '
for my New York friend Romeo Della Valle!
*'Make-up needn't be seen as a corrective or something to hide behind.I see it as another form of expression and acceptance, even pleasure, of being in one's skin.'-Kay Montano
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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What is Sometimes Hidden.
Just as Minnie gets in the mood
to play the Debussy Violin
Sonata her mother says the
photographer is waiting and
so she has to go along to the
lounge and pose and have her
picture taken and as she stands
there with her violin dressed
to the nines the photographer
says no do not smile it cheapens
the effect and so she stiffens
her lips and stares at the young
photographer's moustache and
her mother says do has the man
wants dear and don't pout so
and so she ceases to pout and
gazes at the box camera and man
hidden behind the cloth his hand
visible and do not move he says
hold it do not fidget dear her
mother says and puts her hands
on her shoulders and places her
in the position her mother thinks
the photographer wants is that it?
her mother asks the photographer
smiling in that way she smiles that
gives the impression of an imbecile
yes yes he says that is it and so she
stands as placed the sensation of
wanting to urinate suddenly upon
her and so she squeezes her thighs
together her knees touching her
hands gripping the violin trying
silently to keep the urine in.
poem by Terry Collett
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Last laugh of the revolutionary road
A Limousine hit a beggar and ran away.
He made a big laugh before he dies
And murmured in the moonlit night;
'Moon never appears as a witness in the courts
That I am sure, but I love her as I realized at last
She cannot come down.'
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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Love Never Dies
You say you saw the dark side, baby
I know what gets you through the night
And love is like a red rose, baby
And so it's coming 'round again
If we can take the same direction
We find the road that never ends
'Cause love never dies
It goes on forever
Love never dies, love never dies
Love goes on forever
This is the love we've been talking about
You led her in 'till she couldn't get out
'Cause you made the little girl cry
No sad stories to deny
I go through the holy war for you, baby
You know, so you ain't got a prayer
I'll answer if you call for me, baby
I'm yours, to God above I swear
I only wanna live in the shadow you make
The soul that never lies
'Cause love never dies
It goes on forever
Love never dies, love never dies
Love goes on forever
You better run to the heart of the flame
She don't change like the sun and the rain
'Cause she don't understand why
You made the little girl cry
'Cause love never dies
It goes on forever
Love never dies, love never dies
Love goes on forever
This is the love we've been talking about
You led her in 'till she couldn't get out
'Cause you made the little girl cry
No sad stories to deny
You better run to the heart of the flame
She don't change like the sun and the rain
'Cause she don't understand why
You made the little girl cry
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The money lender
An old boycotted photographer who stands in front of a Mall
And he thinks while seeing the huge car park.
I must send him a photograph the miser lent me some money a long time ago in high interest of buying this box camera.
Dear Mr.Shylock,
'This photo gives you a slight impression of my car factory's outer premises and why don't you tick your choice and send me back?
I would ship you the required vehicle in free of charge as a gratitude.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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0412 Their World
It's a sepia photograph, taken, I'm guessing,
1900,1910? The whole of it is taken up by
a crowd on the move, passing the photographer,
who could be, say, clinging to a lamp-post, or on a balcony.
Going to? Leaving? Impossible to tell.
Who's rich? Who's poor? No clue.
What's it got to tell you about - life?
Why go on looking at it? No reason
except that you're human; they were human; and
today, you wish, with increasing intensity,
to connect. In some way. Somewhere at the back of
uncomfortable mind, maybe, lurks the thought that one fine day,
you'll be that anonymous one in that anonymous crowd,
forever recorded - dead on the page;
by the irony of history, photographed
when you were sure that you were alive forever...
There's one chap in the crowd looking at the camera;
as the artist, in some Renaissance adoration, and
slightly aloof from the crowd's concern,
looks out of history at you the spectator - as if to say
I'm there; I'm here; and what of you?
But he's no artist; he's looking boldly at the camera,
a cigarette between his lips at 45 degrees from the vertical -
a cheeky angle you never see today; the equivalent, I guess,
of the V-sign at the camera, as some meaningless, cocky, lively,
spontaneous act of defiance -at what?
Now you can 't put the photo down.
It's like picking at a scab or
a joyless masturbation. It threatens - you threaten -
your sense of security; whatever that might be.
Every one of that crowd lived a valid life.
You'd like to be one of them - or would you?
Why aren't you filled with a joyous sense
of identity and compassion?
A selfish greed, perhaps, to know more than you ever can?
Maybe, one day, you'll pick up that photo once again
and greet them like old friends.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A sweet memory
Her name is Matilda and she got a very huge bust.
She was nick named by Dairy Queen in the class.
Her family migrated to Great Britain for good
And before she leaves gave her autograph to sign among friends.
Still I remember a friend of mine wrote;
'Matilda this is certain and be careful if you get an opportunity to embrace the Queen, definitely the Buckingham Palace would be collapsed.'
He too lives in U.K and sent me a letter recently that he met Matilda by chance.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Citizen of Earth
His loose-leaf travel document
All the relevant pages
Smudged with his tears?
And the cataract eyed sentry questioned;
'What's your name? '
'Man'
'Surname?
'Human'
'Religion? '
'Humanity'
'This seems to be a forged passport
And you can go back to your place
Where you have come from.'
Poor Man mutters;
'My poor Mom already buried
And the jolly good father escaped
from earthly burdens,
No next of Kin or a faithful relative
Why all these barriers,
Rusty barbed wires and bacterial tetanus?
I am a citizen of Earth
And he whispers his favorite song of S.D.Burman's
Sentry listens the strange dialect;
'Ahi kuro hai
Safuno hoghi theri
Aradhana................................ ....'
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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