Missing Cravat
When flurries in the gloomy sky
I am still awake and inquisitive?
Your pinkish-mauve silky scarf
Blown in the wind and safely landed
At my backyard.
But how do I know your whereabouts
To hand over if it's not a keepsake
Are you faraway or close by?
I have no proper sleep these days
Till I get your prompt response
And please do not cremate my innocent hopes
in your vast burial grounds *before the music ends?
*for Sandra Fowler!
[ I listen your precious poems in the CD where Ihab Badrun reads in his deep voice; 'A hymn to Frost' (for my grandfather who started work in the coal mines of West Virginia when he's twelve years old,) I feel a teardropp in my eye? ]
[I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases each time it was a different story.]
Quoted from Edith Wharton's lovely novel 'Ethan Frome'
Ethan Frome a heartfelt humanity that can still resonate across the years to the reader of today.
nimal dunuhinga
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Cravat
Your pinkish-mauve silky scarf
Blown in the wind
And safely landed in my backyard.
But how do I find your whereabouts
To hand over if it's not a keepsake?
Are you faraway or closely?
I have no sleep till I get a prompt response,
Please do not cremate my innocent hopes.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Why all these taboos for the fatal dance?
[A poor farmer, Ethan Frome lives his days throwing his powerful body into trying to draw a living from the frozen ground of his land as well as tending to his dour, sickly wife.When his wife's cousin Mattie comes to help, Ethan eventually finds himself in love with the sweet young woman who shyly tends to her chores about the cold wooden house.]-Quoted from Edith Wharton's celebrtated novel, 'Ethan Frome'.
To that beautiful Widow next door
who winks and sneezes
in his wintry faded dreams
Jingle with sleigh-bells!
He would like to dance
on slippery floors
Because he doesn't know the art of right steps
As Santa Claus?
humbly to the poetess Sridevi!
nimal dunuhinga
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Sandra Fowler is no more!
Dear Nimal,
Sandra passed away in the early hours of this morning. She flew away to be with Jesus, her King.
God Bless,
Nancy
I have no words
when the West Virginian Nightingale
was quiet forever?
I write to Comrade Jesus
please loook after her well
and this deepest sympathy to my poor poet God
to inform me when she comes to us
as a poetess again!
Your painted sky is gloomy today
And I know why?
I have a teardropp in my heart!
And I hear your song till I close my eyes forever
'Before the music ends? '*
*fondly to my life-school teacher who taught me when I argued sometimes about certain things, she muttered that life is a song and you have to sing before the music ends?
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I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story.
quote by Edith Wharton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The last Moon
Who worries of this pauper's whereabouts
And please do not think that I don't have any regrets?
I sleep on the road as usual and I see you all the time in the night sky.
But I know about the vast distance between us.
Faraway stars in multitude but none of them solve my destiny.
Sun never bothers in the morning if I am not awake
And I feel that I see the last Moon tonight.
* If someone sings this I would like to hear that voice before I close my eyes.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Withered grass on the playground
In the morning I dropped my grandson
to the Kindergarten
And I watched a Father plays football
with his daughter.
My inquisitive mind traveled
to the bygone years,
How my poor Mom was sitting in the tuck-shop
and watched my acrobats in the playground?
I like to go to school again
But my loving Mom I don't know your whereabouts
with my old books?
I am old now and see the nearby burial grounds
Some stray dogs play with their puppies?
'No man is poor who has had a godly mother.'
-Abraham Lincoln
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And I write this on your white tomb with a piece of charcoal
When I see the twilight sky
I think of you and your poem paintings!
When I hear a bird's chirping faraway
on a tree, I count your unsung poems?
Whenever I pass burial grounds
I believe that you're still alive
and write?
But you're gone and it's certain.
Do you remember we made a promise once
That one of us do our Epitaph?
Yes, it's my turn and I write this
on your white tomb with a piece of charcoal
and who writes on mine in your absence?
I dedicate this poem to the celebrated poet Khalil Gibran for his love letters!
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The Unknown Pilgrim?
On my way walking home
While the Venus Star burns
in the dark sky,
The youth questioned me;
'Why the two tracks Grandpa? '
Then I replied; 'Probably one for North
And the other stretched to South it seems.'
'Nobody wants to go from West to East
And see their innocent struggle for survival? '
The Mail-Train whistled from a far
And he's disappeared all of a sudden!
I was really excited though it's my inner soul
Or somebody else from another planet?
The ragged Station Master's holding his dim hurricane lamp
and he's very inquisitive of my whereabouts.
The empty train passed slowly like a beautiful widow
Yet I couldn't trace those mysterious Railway tracks?
Yes Chum! We come like water and go as wind
He who erases our strange names systematically?
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Once again to the poetess Sandra Fowler!
[Hi Nimal, Sandra is well and doing much better, although she's now a permanent resident of a Health care facility, will keep you posted, God bless.]-Nancy King-Badran
You're my life-school Teacher
and the West Virginian Nightingale!
But no chirps these days?
I send you this Talisman,
a tiny compass
That indicates where I am breathing now hardly.
I pray to my individual poet-God every seconds
for your immediate recovery and also I have a plan
to see you soon when my innocent wallet sounds good?
I have heard about the West Virginian Forest Buddhist Monastery
and there If I could finish my journey?
Anyway, I hope that you have already voted
to the same soul who could achieve his precious goals
for our welfare.
Best of Luck!
A humble dedication to Nancy King-Badran!
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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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I found your old Christmas card in my bookshelf
I love that water color painting
printed on your precious card!
In 2009, far away Salem church appears
with snow flakes
and a woodpecker rests
on a cypress branch.
Your boisterous flowing hand tells
' Thinking of you as Christmas
and wishing you only the best
in the New Year! We keep you in our prayers
Take care! '-Sandra & family.
Yes Madam! I am really worried of your long lull
And thank God! Your prayers worked out.
My colonoscopy results were good
The polyps they found in my large intestine were benign tumor
and not Malignant?
I am happy as I could scribble further
If my old friends appear soon?
Neighborhood birds started singing
in the absence of Virginian nightingale?
And I kept a bowl of rice & water on the window sill.
Hope you're well and please give a little shout
from Lie-Ving road, West Columbia!
[Kindness is a language the dumb can speak and the deaf can hear and understand.]-Christian Bovee
for my life-school teacher Sandra Fowler in gratitude!
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Beyond the Blue ridge mountains Shenandoah river
My dream boat without oars
Drifts along the river
But still far away
From that beautiful place called
'Almost heaven West Virginia'
Life is short
Shorter than a needle
But it's very painful
When the tapering end stings your heart.
* To my fellow poetess friend Sandra Fowler.
I was really intoxicated by John.Denver's song
'Take me home, Country Roads.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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If I had a Son?
When he comes from school
Definitely he complains;
'Dear Papa! I had a problem
in my geography class,
Teacher indicates this is North
That's South and this side is East
And that side is West.
Then I said that I won't agree.'
Yes my little unborn Son
I too had the same problem in my night school.
They made the Compass, directions
For their own benefits
But nobody could show us where's the Happiness?
Then one night after a nightcap in my dream I heard;
'Why don't you try my place the old man? '
The faraway old isolated burial grounds muttered!
A humble dedication to the poetess Susan Jarvis!
*[Is nothing in life ever straight and clear, the way children see it? ]
-Rosie Thomas
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Cry over spilled milk
She appeared only once
in my gloomy dreams.
Like an actress in a movie
with a singsong
she disappeared at the end.
In the life-theatre still I am sitting
until the curtain opens.
for Sandra Fowler with affectionately.....
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The Quiescence here like his deep poems!
'Here you come to New South Wales'
The board by the roadside glitters!
And I got down from the bus
A limousine for the first time in my life?
O it's an unusual quietness in this burial grounds
Situated in a small town perhaps his birth place?
At last after roaming around
I found his humble tomb!
I touched and it's cold
Like frozen death,
Suddenly I woke up!
But I was not certain
Whether it's morning
Or still it's night and where I have been
With my teary eyes?
*[He sent me his two poetry books 'Poems that bloom in my garden & The ancient poet', few weeks before he dies and this was written on the back with his mischievous hand writing and the friendly signature! .................To Nimal, my brother & friend thank you for being who you are.-Paddy Martin]
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A parcel from Overseas beyond the Great Barrier Reef!
As a habbit, firstly
I check the sender's name & address
Oh! It's from New South Wales
Australia, My dreamy burial grounds
To rest in peace with Aborigines!
Guess who sent the precious gift?
Brother Poet & Humanitarian
Paddy the Martin!
Two pocket size books
His poetry Anthologies.
'Poems that bloom in my garden
And The ancient Poet.'
I have not started yet the reading
But that smells a rare fragrance of a flower
In the garden of Eden!
Where the Humanity began!
Thank you is not enough
For the soft soul's honest smile
And I add this; 'Let us be friends
And smile together until we reach
The Horizon, Zenith or Infinity
Whatever it is promise to shake hand warmly!
* Humbly to my friend Paddy Martin in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Story Of My Life
Words and music by neil diamond
The story of my life is very plain to read
It starts the day you came
And ends the day you leave
The story of my life begins and ends with you
The names are still the same
And the storys still the truth
I was alone.
You found me waiting and made me your own
I was afraid
That somehow I never could be a man that you wanted of me
Youre the story of my life, and every word is true
Each chapter sings your name
Each page begins with you
Its the story of our times and never letting go
If I die today, I wannted yo to know
Stay with me here
Share with me, care with me
Stay and be near
And when it began Id lie awake every night
Just knowing somewhere deep inside
That our affair just might write
The story of my life is very plain to read
It starts the day you came
It ends the day you leave
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scattered dew & wild grass
'We must convey our sincere regards
as you pour us silvery pearls every night
for a long sleep' Wild grass blessed!
'I am worried how long this could be served
As I heard from the faraway campsite
Giant Lawnmower's annoying scream,
For the coming competitive election
In rivalry they're madly making silky paths
to poor innocent voters? ' Dew responded.
[Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.Thank you for reminding me that others walk uphill just as I do.How often I forget and think that I walk the path of hardship alone.]-Amen
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Sir!
You passed me remarks on & off
that I am an ignorant!
Yes Sir!
I know only that Sun rises in the East
and sets in the West,
One plus one is two not eleven like our boss says
and the precious letter
in the English alphabet starts with 'A'
and finishes at 'Z'.
But you are not familiar with this statement Sir!
Most of the huts in this ridiculous World
Their stoves unlit for days, months and years?
All the religions I seaerched but couldn't find the right word
and ultimately it's in the encyclopedia in simple letters
'poverty'.
to my friend Pranab!
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poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Hey! How tactful your singsong Detective?
Hey! How tactful your singsong Detective?
When you hum a love song at home
Look around and be careful,
If it's a new song,
Your beloved must be so inquisitive?
and she may sniffs any rare fragrance
comes out from your body.
She search your whereabouts
Peeps into your well creased trouser pockets
and your day to day activities.
Any changes in your lifestyle
and in your sound sleep
She tries to explore your sweet dreams.
Not only that she jumps to your rickety rib cage
and counts your fast heart beat too?
to my beloved in gratitude!
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poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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