Pre-giveaway to our precious Grandson
A very happy Birth day to you son and be a good-smart boy like 'Sanath' [not the actor; The world famous cricketer].
Hope you become a real man soon and change the World for better prospects.
No son! Please stay aside and remain as a child forever because the cruel society is precarious.
Your mad grandpa lost his job and still scribbles with a hullabaloo
And your courageous grandma gets up early in the morning and fights with the rolled gold life.
She stuck under the table in a daycare center to bring bread & butter home and she never forgets to buy my Cuban vanilla cigar too.
In our dream-trains we travel a thousand times home bounds
But we station here for a purpose.
I am sorry my son in your playgroup you really missed your fine playmate and she is here with me in a turmoil.
[Hey! our little apprentice Master Siluna you are close upon three years
and do not forget that your mischievous grandpa got married at 21.]
* A humble dedication to the young poetess
Shani.Bogamuwa of Massachusetts.
Also to loving Kelum & Tharindu, Chinthaka & Thilini our loved ones and etc.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Familiar voices echo from Massachusetts!
*Shani the young poetess from Massachusetts;
I dedicate this poem in gratitude to her courageous family who gave us tremendous help as same as hospitality in our hard times in the USA.
They are in-laws of my daughter.............and our friends too.
'Hello Grandma & Grandpa!
We're already here.(Grandson Siluna, Daughter Thilini & Son-in-law Chinthaka)
Our Grandson called us and he wants to know when we go there and see them?
Yes, that's our endless dream and not yet finished.
Our eldest daughter & Son-in-law, Tharindu & Kelum in Australia
When they join us and sing together?
Oh! What a great comfort?
Then one day the old couple could have rest in peace hand-in-hand quietly
With a big permanent smile for a Toothpaste advertisement!
P.S.
Sonny! America is a big ripen Orange and we're small ants.I have already quitted smoking and I want to check your poor old Grandma's piggy till that how much she has saved for the journey? Really I must have an iron wallet otherwise these tricky coloured notes would fly always.
I must mention the name of poetess from West Virginia/my life-school teacher Sandra Fowler(West Virginian Nightingale) for her devotional prayers and our utmost gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Silver
Nirvana- Silver
Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's
I kicked and screamed, said please don't go
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatoes and stuff like that
I couldn't chew my meats too good
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
She said, well, don't you start your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
That's what I did, I killed my toe
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
After dinner, I had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mother's arms
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
I wanna be alone
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have pity on those who love each other and are separated
Mom you suffered nine months and rest of the life until you died.
I continue and almost fifty eight years now.
On my birthday..........greetings and gifts come along from Australia and Sri Lanka.
My eldest daughter Tharindu and Son-in-law Kelum write,
Wish you a healthy & wealthy life and may your dreams come true!
The youngest daughter Thilini and Son-in-law Chinthaka insists
We could not ask a better friend than you.
Yes of course, my loved ones we are born friends.
It's our fault we broke our own peaceful nest and scattered into different parts.
But the links are much stronger than earlier in the chain.
I drew a World Map in my complicated mind.
I brought Australia to Canada and sent her to Australia
And my tiny precious island Sri Lanka pushed towards Hawaii
And sent Hawaii into the Indian Ocean.
But still it's too far to touch.
Oh! My beloved wife hugs as usual
You are a Sun in my winter Igloo
And a full Moon in the mysterious summer hut.
I kept a piece of cake for my missing son 'Marco'
from my beloved's home made delicious chocolate cake.
My grand son Siluna being a taller day by day
And I dream he becomes a Captain one day
Who steers well in the Ocean of life his seaworthy Vessel.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A beggar maid sings in an awful night!
If you want to see the World
Though I am blind,
Ready to give my eyes.
If you're hungry
Share my bread crumb.
And if you're thirsty
Please sip my broken tumbler.
If you want a shelter and a warmth
I can move to a side on the road
And in the sleep if you want my heart,
Please remove that without giving me a slight pain
As I cannot bear this loneliness any further!
*to the young poetess in Massachusetts Shani Bogamuwa!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Where our innocent warm tears flow?
A sad message from Dandenong, Australia;
Our loving daughter Tharindu
Who's delivered a premature stillborn son today!
How do we send our deepest sympathy?
We realized the present distance darling daughter!
It's like the sky & Earth.
Do you feel our warm tears?
The cruel invisible hands taken our unseen Grandson
Earlier he took our Granddaughter too during my absence.
To whom we claim this unfair gamble and offer our inner cry?
Darling daughter be patient and we're with you till our last breath.
I have a name for you my unseen Grandson!
Lucky! (As you have not seen this cruel World)
We never forget our Lucky!
Your poor Grandma cries behind me like an Antelope.
You're the luckiest Portrait printed in our fragile hearts
And very soon we come to your lonely resting place sonny!
Yes, with my teary loose-leaf book of Sorrow!
*A humble dedication to our new grandson who bid Goodbye without seeing your poor Grandma & Grandpa! Our dreamy rainbow bridge collapsed, and we checked our old Passports, validity already expired it seems and we're very near to you!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Great Grandma
Great Grandma married Great Grandpa
poor Irish girl and poor Indian man
Great Grandma
used to get beat by Great Grandpa's mom
Great Great Grandma
because Great Great Grandma only spoke an Indian
language and not English.
She got hit by a train.
Lots of us Indians got hit by trains in one way
or another, but this was
literal and not metaphor.
poem by Smack Thompson
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The Magic Music Box
That music box on Grandpa's wall
Was magic to my eyes
I loved to hold and try to play
that guitar, twice my size
One day, I thought of nothing else
So, when the school bell rang
I was off to Grandpa's house
To strum those strings again
I waded thru two babbling brooks
Loving every step I took
Then paused to smell the sweet incense
Of honeysuckles on the fence
They'll miss me home at suppertime
But I think dad knows he can find
His little girl at Grandpa's house
with that guitar across her lap
Then found a guitar, all her own
Would keep his little girl at home
And Happy too!, for I play well
Tho' years have passed, I love it still.
poem by Nita S. Balma
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Ignored
May be I was just eight or nine
Since that time I never felt fine.
Busy with their work my mum and dad.
Grandma, and grandpa they were bad
Every morning mum used to go office
Once in month, dad used to come home
They never loved and cared about me.
Even if I was bleeding they would not see
I used to feel like ignored and was alone
now i m 18 yrs, I have you, those feelings are gone
We used to chat and talk, I think we should
With you so friendly n loving, I really feel good
I try to convince myself when you don't reply
I put up, with lots of positive thoughts and try
To cool myself But as I have been ignored till now
And I don't know what will make me feel good and how?
poem by Sushanta Rokka
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Thankless Scions
Grandma was in isolation
She was in an isle of distress
The children whom she fed
With the blood turned milk
In her breasts
Have all flown and vanished
And she left abandoned
With the linings all over
In mind and skin
Heralding the arrival
Of the frail old December
Of the life, the end of the span!
The marvelous culture
Of a house- hold adorned
With grandma and grandpa
With children and grand children
Went into oblivion!
The grandma and grandpa
Is a hindrance to their children
Is a bad omen to scions
And an inconvenience
To the young and dynamic!
Grandma and grandpa
Are ignored and caged
As of a dog or parrot
And fed like a slave
Tied to a pole in chains!
The thankless sons and daughters
Never care the sufferings
And sacrifices of Ma and Papa
And they want to be alone
As being youthful in spirit
And are eager to enjoy
The spring of life
Where they hate the face of autumn!
Grandma, Grandpa, Ma and Papa
Are omen of autumn
That they never wish to sight!
The young whose blood
Rushes with the fuel of Ma's milk
Forget that the green leaves
Will turn yellow
And wither away
And an autumn is is hibernation
To embrace them tomorrow!
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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Warm Milk And Toast
Warmed milk sweetened with honey
toast buttered with a thin spread of jam.
A bedtime story told by my Grandpa
times of Castles and Giants, living in some Fairy Tale land.
The warmed milk would make me sleepy
the toast would fill that nightime hunger need.
Sounds of Grandpa's soft loving voice
as he would sit on my bed and read.
My Grandpa's gone so many years ago
now I am one myself.
I warm and sweeten my Granddaughters milk
and take that same book down off her shelf.
Her eyes are wide open, as she chomps away
at the toast with butter and jam.
She tells me how much she loves me so
and just how neat of a Grandpa that I am.
I see her eyes growing heavy now
as I continue to read the story.
And am proud that I'm a Grandpa
and now can read, my Grandpa's Fairy Tale Story.
poem by Linda Winchell
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Grandpas Rocking Chair for M lady Chitra
On the front porch a rocking chair
nobody uses no one dare
Nor dare they move it anywhere.
Grandpa decreed it must stay there
What grandpa said was what he meant
he left no room for argument.
He simply stated his intent
Though other folk felt different
When Grandpa died the family tried
to set his iron rule aside
You’ll rue this day their Grandma cried
Your Grandpa will not be defied.
They moved the chair to show they could
though grandma did not think they should
She warned them all that nothing good
would come of this. She understood
although she knew Grandpa was dead.
She knew he’d rise in wrathful pride
to reinforce what he has said.
His last command before he died.
The chair was moved despite her pleas.
Her warnings were not listened to.
From that day on they knew no peace
Til grandma told them what to do
The rocking chair must be restored
to where Grandpa said it should be.
They all agreed of one accord
the chair replaced immediately.
Sometimes at night it seems to be
moving gently slowly rocking
Although there’s nothing they can see
they know that Grandpas visiting.
To see his word is still obeyed.
That no one moves his rocking chair.
Nobody will they’re too afraid.
They know sometimes he still sits there.
27-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I remember we were all horrified to see Grandpa up on the roof with his Superman cape on. 'Get down' yelled Uncle Lou. 'Don't move' screamed Grandma. But Grandpa wouldn't listen. He walked to the edge of the roof and stuck out his arms, like he was going to fly. I forget what happened after that.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bridge Rainbow over the River Sky
As soon as I recovered from Hay Fever
My congested nostrils cleared
And I could sniff as usual.
A rare fragrance from Dandenong in Australia.
My daughter Tharindu and son-in-law Kelum reside there.
She conceived it seems,
What a happy news wind brought?
If a boy I would like to call him 'Siddharta'.
And if a girl 'Yashodara'.
Nine months; more than enough
Learn Martial arts and get a black-belt
To fight with the mysterious life.
Nine months; quite enough
Learn dancing
To dance with the melancholy song of life.
Your old grandma [still looks young and could marry again]
And your old grandpa[ Cowboy on a wooden horse]
Waiting anxiously to see our grandson or granddaughter.
When we get the permission to cross the bridge rainbow over the river sky?
*I humbly dedicate this poem to Alison & Jerry
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Old Upright Piano
For as long as I remember, when friday night came round
The family would gather out at grandpas house.
With supper over and the dishes done
It was then the best time came
At an old upright piano that only grandma played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
Grandpa was a stubborn man, they said it was his style.
Grandma called him ornery, but she said it with a smile.
Even he could not disguise the love he felt so strong;
We all could see it in his eyes when she played his favorite song.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
I was almost 17 when my grandma died;
I stayed all night with grandpa; the old man never cried.
He sat at her piano, there was nothing we could say
It was the first time in my life I ever heard my grandpa play.
It wasnt beautiful dreamer or my wild irish rose
It was a song he played from memory & he never missed a note
I sat right there beside him until the morning came
What a friend we have in jesus was the only song he played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uneasiness
Thunder storms
Earth Quakes
Tsunami
And Bombings!
World is sick
With all these
Infectious diseases?
The old Man and a long cigar in his mouth
He watches the night sky,
Probably waiting for a flying saucer
And he wants to go to another planet?
I asked 'Grandpa! why so anxious'
He too called me Grandpa,
' Yes, there's no remedy for anxiety in this troubled World'
I took my pocket mirror and found that we're like twins.
*There is only one pretty child in the World, and every mother has it.
-Chinese proverb
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Another Smile To Remember
one day grandpa
summoned a worker in his field
and that early morning he told him that he is fired.
with nowhere to go
poor as he was, with a wife and five children to feed
the man had to go, search for another land
and bow before another master.
he was humble, and courteous still
despite the humiliations and the insults
on being called a lazy bone
he still afforded a smile that i as a young boy
could not forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Race
Our grand son Siluna has brought two cups home after winning in the school sports meet.
Congratulations Son!
At least you won.
Still I am running, your
Gray bearded Grand father
Never seen a cup.
Be strong my son as you have to jump over so many hurdles
in the race of hard life.
But I am sure that you have the sprint
And you take part all the events,
One day you bring the biggest cup home from the racecourse
The Mankind.
*Dedication to Alison, Sandra and Shani the three poetesses polished my scribblings.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Grandpa's Lake
He was sitting by himself all alone,
Down in a little corner.
Looking out of place, in the funeral home,
And away from all the mourners.
His dad walked up, and I heard him say,
Daddy can I go home?
I don't know why grandpa went away,
But he might be home alone.
I want to be there, when he gets back,
We were going fishing today.
He'll need his hooks and rods, and that burlap sack,
Where he puts the fish away.
His dad looked up, a tear in his eye,
And said 'grandpa's fishing now.'
But it's a great big lake, up in the sky,
And you can't go there right now.
He's fishing with his dad today,
They'll be fishing for some time.
They have a lot to do and say,
Cause to that lake it's a long steep climb.
They haven't seen each other,
In oh, so many years.
And grandpa's glad to see his father,
And both their eyes have tears.
And grandpa's a little boy again,
Just a fishing with his dad.
And on his face there's no more pain,
I hope for him your'e glad.
The little boy just smiled and said,
I guess I'm happy about that.
Yes for grampa I'm very glad,
But for me, I guess I'm sad.
I wanted to go fishing, with my grampa today.
But if you can take me,
To the lake, maybe the bay,
I'll go, my time is free.
I guess I'll wait to fish with grampa,
Till I can make it to his lake.
Maybe he'll find some secret spots,
I sure hope so, for my sake.
1/4/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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The Pencil Drawing
My Grandson is not well these days
It seems to be Bronchitis?
He draws America with a pencil stub
And he wants me to scribble something.
He says write a letter instead of an essay?
Please write down Sonny!
But no spelling mistakes
Like old politicians.
Dear Mr.Amerigo Vespucci,
My President is Mr.Barack Obama
And I am Siluna Bogamuwa.
Would like to have sisters like Malia Ann and Natasha!
America is very big like my tiny heart
America is strong as my handsome father.
America is kind as same as my loving mother.
I like to play football and bring highest marks to you all!
If you stop all the wars?
My Grandma would sing the National Anthem in her high pitch voice
And my slim jolly-good Grandpa likes to be a black puppy
in the White House if not chained?
[True strength is very delicate.-Nevelson]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Newcastle,1936
In a humble little cottage
in a poorer part of town.
A tea kettle was whistling,
And the rain was pouring down.
Grandpa turned back from the window,
To where “mother” poured the tea.
“I’ve made some soda bread,
why don’t you come an sit with me? ”
Grandpa did as he was bidden-
A cup of tea was just the thing,
in a delicate bone china cup
which bore a picture of the King.
As a stranger in a strange realm
He had worked the mines for years.
He had put food on the table,
He had endured this vale of tears.
Now the world he knew was gone
And work was hard to find
Germany was rising
Which sons would war take this time?
Back when he was young and strong,
with no hostages to time.
He’d had the change to turn his back
on England’s harsher clime.
But then “mother’s” hair was golden
Her eyes a baby blue
Thoughts of leaving for America
paled next to thoughts of you.
He’d longed to travel far and wide
And see all sides of things.
He’d settled for his books and maps.
Some thoughts were childish dreams.
In a humble little cottage
in a poorer part of town.
A tea kettle was whistling,
And the rain was pouring down
poem by John F. McCullagh
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