Slanted Lamp posts, Asphalt roads and the lost pair of synthetic gem-studded sandals
Slanted old wooden lamp posts
Hold the high tension cables
And the asphalt stretched
Silent roads,
Give their broken shoulders
To pass your proud vehicles
You go in situ and no more?
And the rest do their
usual schedule.
He who sings this unchanged melody
from a safe distance
And they cry in the life-theater
The poor audience?
*[My wife called me yesterday from the Temple that somebody has taken her pair of sandals at the threshold and she came home hardly barefoot? I didn't believe this as I thought it's another April Fool's message.Then I said; ' Not to worry, probably a poor worshiper like us must be fled to Nirvana suddenly, who knows? ']
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The unfinished journey
Darling!
If you feel boring
Take out my notebook
With the pencil stub
And write down
What I mutter please.
These lamp posts give us light
But they're stagnant.
Proud Noblemen pass with their limousines
But they never give us a lift.
Probably they believe that we dropp our dust
On their velvet seats.
You see the far away star that burns forever
Somehow we're bit lucky as we burn off & on.
If the Inn-keeper fond of poetry
We could have give this and stay a night free.
Perhaps in the next birth you may be a Noblewoman
And I am the same poor pilgrim.
Hope you stop your car and take me towards your Castle.
On the way I listen to your secret heart carefully
And do you remember me your old fellow journeyman?
*To Mikhail Aleksandrovich Sholokhov for his novel 'And quiet flows the Don.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Very Sad Movie At A Dark Horizon?
I have not been to a movie theater
and it's really boring this life here? '
My beloved grumbles.
I pacified her;
'See this news darling
What a sad happening?
A gunman killed twelve at a theater in Aurora Mall, Colorado
and fifty nine wounded, and it's safe watching the movies
at home?
That's why I try everyday a scratch lottery
If it works properly, definitely
My first preference is buying a T.V. and a CD player
for you! '
*My deepest sympathies to all the victims and their families.
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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From an Iceberg to a Desert
In your Igloo
My frozen thoughts
Never melts
And we go to a desert
I give you my old Camel
To find your precious dreamy Oasis,
Would your Mom & Dad give permission
For this vagabond Nomad?
* When I was a kid I grumbled with my poor Mom that I want ice cubes,
Then she said; 'We are poor darling and your Papa left for Aladdin's wonderful lamp.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sandal
What a marvelous pair of sandals beloved you wear?
And you resemble me Cleopatra.
Be careful my sweetheart as the road is slippery
And your poor Julius. Caesar is barefooted.
Look into the sky Rome is burning and Nero plays his violin with the crooked bow.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My Philharmonic Orchestra and the Soliloquy
I play the miraculous Cello and the Tambourine too.
And my beloved plays rest of the instruments on & off!
And also she does Soprano.
In our hard times when hunger invades the band
She sings in her high pitch
And my fiddle gives the saddest tune of the Life
In its base rhythm of the Violin family!
Though it's bitter and melancholy
We play ourselves and listen together
As the Audience left the Theater earlier.
*To Peter llych Tchaikovsky for his Waltz from Eugene Onegin!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Twilight at a window
A funeral procession
Only the dead person's Kith & Kin?
No long hearse and they carry the cardboard casket
on their bony shoulders towards the pauper's graveyard!
And he sees through his shattered window
Perhaps the poor man's wife cries behind
And the children not aware of the mysterious death
play on the road?
A radical film maker with his Cinema team
Takes pictures for his documentary film
'Poor man's rich funeral'
And he gives few notes to the widow as a gratitude,
She must have seen for the first time in her life
That tricky big colored notes?
[How could I have come so far
(And always on such dark trails!)
I must have traveled by the light
Shinning from the faces of all those I have loved.]
-Thomas McGrath, American,1916-1990
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Mason's daughter and a Carpenter's son
Each & every muddy brick
And the wooden planks of their house
Whisper about the courageous parents
And the cottage comes up gradually.
The proud sky is bit inquisitive it seems
And the humble river says;
'Do not worry, their innocent roof won't touch and bother you anyhow.'
Big ferries cross the river with huge cranes and building materials
And the proposed 'Toy Factory' build up very soon as per the country bald-headed Mayor's election promise.
The old ferryman sings in a sad voice late at midnight;
'Hey! Dear Sons & Daughters
Definitely you all get jobs
And you meet strange faces with a new busy culture.
But don't change your lifestyle and let them burn your halcyon cottages
Those were built by your poor parents hardly.'
*Certainly the rich stormy winds ruin the bourgeoisie Folklore.
-From the poor ferryman's Scrapbook.-
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Hey! That Jolly Good fellow who works in a Gas Station now.
The notorious scribbler who wants to change the sky
And replace a new Sun and Moon,
Stuck in a place where he provides fuel to the mischievous vehicles
That run on the slippery road.
The schedule was in the night where he struggles from ten to six.
He counts the stars as usual and waits till a kind star
That comes down voluntarily.
I dedicate this poem to all my poet friends in gratitude.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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How they see beyond the iron curtain?
When a poor man sleeps
by his Worldly possessions
on the road under street lamps,
Don't say that he won't dream the heaven
Yes, he dreams a different one
Where all his colleagues are there
But not much lights & dark it seems?
And they beg for alms from beggar-Angels
Who appear with their see through garments?
nimal dunuhinga
[The Moon sails high above in majesty
Amid the pailing clouds;
But from on high it moves the billowy sea
With its enchanting powers.]-Ivan Turgenev, from 'Home of the Gentry'.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Sunken Crown
Nothing will hold him longer—let him go;
Let him go down where others have gone down;
Little he cares whether we smile or frown,
Or if we know, or if we think we know.
The call is on him for his overthrow,
Say we; so let him rise, or let him drown.
Poor fool! He plunges for the sunken crown,
And we—we wait for what the plunge may show.
Well, we are safe enough. Why linger, then?
The watery chance was his, not ours. Poor fool!
Poor truant, poor Narcissus out of school;
Poor jest of Ascalon; poor king of men.—
The crown, if he be wearing it, may cool
His arrogance, and he may sleep again.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Health Organization, Malaria and the Mosquito
This bloodsucking insect sings in the night its usual melody.
“My dear Health Organization and it’s mandatory I live on human blood
Though I give the disease causing recurring fever what do you called Malaria which I am not aware.
I have the right to live. Isn’t it?
The whole World is sick with so many diseases and you make pesticides to destroy our brotherhood then what about the mankind who makes deadly devices to eradicate the Nature? ”
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Kingdom of the dead souls
I couldn't be a Crown Prince in my whole life
And here in the isolated graveyard
I am the King of the benighted Kingdom
As I am the only tomb-grave stands among the paupers.
The poor grave-digger used to drink beside my tomb, I too intoxicate
And sometimes we talk about lot of things.
The poor rest graves very quiet as hermits even after their deaths.
(And I hear the melody, miraculous pan flute of Georghe Zamfir's in a distant.)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Tell Tale Of The Storms
All of a sudden as a faraway witch-like relative,
You bring damages to the entire atmosphere.
Politicians really scared of mud slides
And they kept locked and stay indoors quietly nowadays.
But the poor folk wander here and there along the streets.
Be careful, let the rain wash your sins
And grab the oblique lamp posts tightly
Because the gossamer life could have blown away.
* Please do not tell secrets to the wind as she might spread all over.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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April Moon hides in the unrelated sky
I do not see any difference between Saudi Arabia and the state of California.
It's really warm here now.
I peep into the vessels from the Seaport of Jeddah Tower
How they dropp their anchors in the designated positions with a singsong?
Here I stuck in a Gas station and I watch the pale blue night sky.
It's the same Moon and nothing being changed but I have changed my dear!
I am almost old and sick
And I cannot play the lute like earlier as the loosened strings never gives the heart-stricken melody.
Now I realized the sky and earth are entirely different
Though it's belongs to the same Master.
Along this parallel journey we never come across and let the mysterious fate dance as usual with the poor souls.
nimal dunuhinga
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.................... .....................
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sonny! One day you too push me when I struggle on my Wheelchair
When I pushed my Grandson's Pram
I do remember now what I told;
Sorry, I have no any regrets my son
I am proud that you're being a Pilot!
And I know that you have a limited time of Freedom
When that Exists suddenly you run to your nest
I understand the Ladybird waits for you.
Your poor Grandma also old now
And she struggles to pass a silky thread
Through eye of the needle!
And I too already threequarter senile
But still I remember your name my son.
If you find a better place in your flying career
Which is not in the given map,
Your poor Grandma and the jigsaw Grandpa
Could have wait for a while at a stopover
Until your pretty Alloy-bird safely lands!
* To the poetess Unwritten Soul [PH] in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I dreamed John Denver beside me
He plays.........' Almost heaven, Country roads take me home to the place I belong West Virginia
Mountain Momma take me home, ' Then stopped for a while.
I said; 'I have a kind friend there a poetess and do you know about her? '
'Yes, ................................................. ........!
Oh! It's a dream.................Yesterday..............Yest erday?
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow and what else a Man grabs?
Why, the mysterious life, isn't it?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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An Evening at the Coffee House nearby Fishery!
Old Mahogany Grandfather clock here
Struck to say it's exactly seven!
Rusty wind peeps through the broken windows
That's really nauseous,
Faraway tossing boats
And in the deep sea Sun dips
without a Life-jacket?
Seagulls rest on the breakwater
And a vibrating song echoes of Louis Armstrong's
'O what a wonderful World and dark sacred nights'
Shrunk golden tea leaves struggle
To give their taste of Paradise
But they're frustrated it seems
As the tiny coffee beans brewed
And mesmerized the strange customers
Providing their bitter taste of oblique life?
On his way home,
A drunken poor sailor
Stopped for a while
And he offers a citation ticket
for his twelve ounce cup of coffee
and a Doughnut?
Midnight!
It's totally dark here
without the unlit Lighthouse?
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Asphalt
We're charcoal black and under the cruel burning Sun
We melt with gravel and make you a smooth surface road.
You accelerate like jets your boisterous proud vehicles
Hit poor souls on the way and run away to hell or paradise
With an Angel face
Only white God knows?
* 'You are rewarding a teacher poorly if you remain a pupil.'
-Friedrich Nietzsche
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
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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