The handsome death roams around bards' billets these days!
My beloved questioned me;
'I noticed that you won't drink
and it's a dilemma in your words.'
'Not exactly I quit drinks honey
The celebrated Malayalam poet
A.Ayyappan passed away last week
and the Bengali prominent poet
Sunil.Ganguly too.
I checked my piggy till and the pennies won't come up
In the checking account few colourd notes smile
that won't reach at least a tall Johnny Walker?
and you know my darling I am a poor scribbler
Casket is very expensive than the nagging life here? '
['The goal of meditation is the beautiful silence, stillness and clarity of mind.']- Buddhist scripture
niumal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
When I broke for a smoke
After keeping my burdensome head on the pillow of dreams
I think of my right side, that's Atlantic Ocean
And the other side Pacific.
But I am not a diver.
I touch the soil of old Red Indians the native,
Geranimo comes to my mind one of the tribal leaders, my great grandfather's friend.
And my brother always say this is the land of opportunity
A beggar turns a millionaire in a second.
Dear brother, I just want to die peacefully and nothing else
But it seems a Casket is more expensive than the life here.
I collect coins in my piggy till
But I take them back when I broke for a smoke.
*
' I called out only two words I could think of English, Go away!
I mean for the children to come, I was longing to touch them.'
[Poet unidentified]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
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A Penny for a Tick
If the dreams come true how beautiful the ugliest life!
The slippery Zig Zag road ends at the village Manor
And we got down, myself & wife from our tumbledown car!
It's a small drizzle and a Twilight
The Sun offs for the day it seems.
The Baron and the Baroness happy with us
For their advertisement in the Pennysaver
And he says; ' You are the ideal couple we expected
And really satisfied by seeing you! '
Wife makes different names of spicy meals
And cleans the household things.
The two Doberman familiar with me
And I pluck their ticks a penny for each.
Cut their high grass in the lawn
And night I read my poems.
The kind Baron offers me a Cuban cigar and a nightcap
And now I don't steal pennies from my beloved's piggy till.
In the night she wears her old nightgowns
And she looks like the Baroness!
I do marketing; Rides the Harley Davidson
That belongs to the Baron's one & only son
Who lives in a different state.
At the backyard there're scattered old tombs
And I guess their ancestors.
Secretly I tell my beloved; 'Darling this is the final roost of our Gypsy journey
And one day they bury us here, We must send the address to our loved ones
Perhaps their offspring win the Green Card Lottery and visit our graves some day! '
To my dearest poet friend Paddy Martin who undergoes a surgery and my blessings for his immediate recovery.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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In ever loving memory of so & so?
'What's life? It's the flash of a firefly in the night.It's the breath of a buffalo in the winter time.It's the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.'-Unknown, Coffee News Metrowest.
These days I quit reading
all the long articles in the papers
Except obituaries and horoscopes?
I told my beloved
When she inquired;
'Darling! We must take some
close-up sepia colour photos,
perhaps one day they publish
in this column,
At least that we have survived here
as a spicy-Cookery teacher
and an old mad-scribbler? '
'Then you said once
Bards never die? '
And she cried.
'No darling! We never die
Only passing away
from this cruel World.'
I pacified her.
to that mystic woman Laila or Edeath who roams around in my faded dreams and undress in front of my beloved? I am scared not the death but women in nude?
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Before a Poetry Reading
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Silence Vavroovahana Patra
Silence provides peace;
Poet desires Divine Bliss.
In deep silence prays mother;
Surrenders in the lap of Nature.
Mother attracts, adorned with flowers;
In the lap of Nature provides pleasure.
Blesses poet affectionatinely;
Derives peace divinely.
Profound silence takes mind to Divinity;
At night through silence mind enchants with gaiety.
Poet beholds mother reverentially;
Mind remains in the world of peace delightfully.
Mother Vinapanee blesses poet with affection;
He enjoys the beauty of creation.
Her blessings tranquilises mind daily;
Singing her songs mind derives peace gaily.
The shrine in the dense forest allures the poet;
Mind enchants with delight.
The serene shrine is a Brook of Delight;
Poet drinks the nectar from the Brook of Gaiety.
Silence of the shrine provides profound peace;
Poet surrender on the rosy cosy feet for Divine Bliss.
Hymns breaks the silence of environment;
Poet chants hymns with merriment.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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A Bride from an Orphanage
An innocent virgin from a hidden haunted house
Who comes out to the new civilized world?
The Bridegroom is unknown from the lower depths?
We all wish them a happy wedded life forever
And bring a dozen of polite offspring to this lopsided cruel world?
* I humbly dedicate this poem to the prominent Sri Lankan singer Maestro Pandith Amaradeva and the lyrics of this great song by the celebrated poet Mahagama Sekara............
' The river flows from the past
And the beauty of the dream world
I see in your eyes
my beloved.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not
The poet I am, and the poet I am not
‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poetothemics
No magician can make
Moon: A beautiful lass.
A poet can............
No device can grasp
The language of celestial
A poet can.....
You know! He dug out the beauty
From sorrow and melancholy
Mixed it with wine and enjoyed.
And He, enjoyed the song of her,
language was not known to him.
And He, depicted spirit of revolution
As a spiritual bird.An Albatross.
Bursted he and questioned to me.
'What device a poet has?
How they operated the device? '
I replied..
When a vinsect bites to a poet
Poetothemics activated.
'Never heard such words before! '
Now you heard from me!
He said...A poet can...
............***...........
poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
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This Poet Is Always Beside You
You are reading my poem but,
This poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
I am on your lips and,
I am in your mouth;
I am in your heart and,
I am in your mind;
Because, this poet is always beisde you.
This poet writes and others read,
This poet speaks and others listen,
And this poet is always beside you;
But, this poet is never known.
The works of this poet are on the internet,
And, they are being read by many! !
But, this poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Poem To A Poets!
the poet see crooked
and talk weird too
like a drunk
perdition in his insane!
No one can understand a Poet
Just you and me, like poet we are
The poet say 'Dr. Jivago'?
It means like a movie? No
it means my love for you! ! !
Or he asks yourself, Am I Evil?
No, he does not evil
I am in silence, affirm the poet! ! !
In silence never he will be
BONG, kick the can! ! !
WAR
AAA
RAW
in silence he is!
Trapped in a tower
a terrible place
just for one second to rest
like almost all of us
He said' I gone'
but gone like no one
gone with strenght
strange and revolutionary Poet!
No one can understand a Poet
Just you and me, like poet we are! ! !
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Goods Train
I was so upset of firing from the job by my ruthless boss
And I missed the last bus.
I walked towards the dark Railway Station
And I heard a train hoots from a far away.
'Oh! What are you doing here in the late midnight? '
A woman stands with triplets and I am sure that she's pregnant too.
Because I noticed her belly has expanded a little.
'Where is your partner the father of these children? ' I questioned.
She didn't say anything and I found the answer from her gloomy talking eyes.
Oh! It's a dilemma and is there any place in this cruel World for them to rest unless my little hut?
But my beloved would grumbles though she loves children.
Definitely she would ask are you going to be the father of this unborn innocent?
My poor wallet not so sound as usual for the two full tickets and three halves.
Never mind and it's a Goods Train so we could hide somewhere like in a Cowboy movie.
When we go home I'll explain her: 'Hey! Darling do you remember, here is our far relative Maria Magdalena who lived in Good Shepherd's Era? '
But it's really a Tug of War and a challenge living with two women under the same roof.
*My Kingdom does not belong to this World.[ Biblical]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Some Silence, Some Words
Today somewhere a mirror broke
And a music of end splashed in the pages of time,
Someone lost his meanings in the broken mirror..
And an unending silence flowed
Many things happen silently, , ,
How the silent weeping of the lost meaning wander in the depth of the night, , ,
I unveil the sea of darkness...i find only silence
And the music of the end keeps on splashing around
Life is all about some silence and some words…
Far away a poet was looking for words, .
And a poem was seeking for its understanding, ,
for the heart where words dwell with meanings, ,
As long as they both were away everything was all right...
And when they met, , ,
the poet lamented on the end of words of the poem, , ,
and the poem on the unending silence of the poet, , , , ,
poems are not about understanding....
poet is not about words, , , ,
A punishment in the act of play
A Higher Authority has punished him for stealing the Rainbow
And pawned in a Harem.
After sometimes punished him again
Because he has redeemed and replaced it in a better sky.
He remained as a poet in the entire drama
Until the last scene.
* Darling! How do we grab the Life with three pennies?
A miniature gift for my beloved spouse on our 37th Wedding Anniversary falls today.Thank our Lord, We still breathe and struggle on the quicksand as usual.
We watch ourselves in the mirror and the gray hair tells; 'Still remember your juvenile faces.' And I found a teardropp gathers in her small eye.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Text message
'A fellow poet from Solomon Islands.
Hey! My scribbler what's your Motto exactly? '
'To be a rotten hard boiled egg
And finish the journey in a Tycoon's Bog.
A poor Hen's soloist somber offspring.'
I responded.
*God does not create poverty, we do, because we do not share.
-Mother Teresa
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Just A Poet
I am just a poet
Poems are my life
Words are the soul
The pen is my might.
Versus are the cup
From which that I drink
And knowledge is the bread
From which my mind is fed.
I live if just to write
The words that I cant speak,
For locked away in my mind
Are the versus to be rhymed.
I am but a simple writer
With a pen and pad in hand
Gazing at the sky and trees
To write what man should read.
I have walked many trodden paths
And down many mournful road,
Now I write about their tears and fears
For now they have became my soul.
I cant cure a mans health
Nor can I stop a war
As I am not much as I see myself
A poor man who loves the Lord.
And when I walk my last mile
And then I'll write my last smile
And on my pad it will show it
That I was but, a simple poet.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Our 38th Wedding Anniversary!
Oh! My dearest Darling!
Here December 8th has come again,
Really it's a long journey for you
With a notorious Vagabond!
Isn't it and what we gained?
Nevertheless, I looked around patiently.
The old two suit cases on the cupboard
Very uneasy like a bankrupt Tycoon.
Do you remember that they were in good looking
On our wedding ceremony?
But now they are sadly wearied
Like us with great difficulties.
Few copper-bronze pennies
Still survive in my magical wallet by shining
And I hear their secret deep murmur
'We must fight each other and convert into golden nuggets
And give a full support to our beltless kind karate Master
Who fights with life forever.'
I was shocked and peeped to the shattered mirror
And saw my wrinkle face that reminds me a severe drought.
Beside she cried like an Antelope; 'I am always with you and never betray honey! '
Oh! My beloved in a sad Menopause mood
And I said; ' Don't worry my darling!
Still we can do miracles a lot and I'll give you a healthy Son
Certainly a rare gift.
Who knows whether he becomes a timid President
Or a prominent Gangster one day
And he makes this uppish World upside down? '
* To all my friends in gratitude with a smile!
I scribbled this on a throw away Cigarette packet found along the road of blunder!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Here goes the 116th Boston Marathon!
I am really fed up with the rat race
Almost tired & frustrated?
Darling! Please do not force this weakling
And I am so sorry as you spent a lot for me
In vain the multivitamin capsules
Five hour energy drinks & Viagra?
I'll be in the crowd if you like as a spectator!
You can take some close-up photographs
From the digital camera,
Our daughter sent from Australia.
At least we could pacify ourselves
That we have seen a true Marathon
For the first time in our life?
['We want people to know it's hard to go through something like this, but you can keep fighting and can continue to lead a positive life.'-Ed Feather]
*A humble dedication to the courageous 39 year-old Ed Feather Esq. of Framingham, Massachusetts who runs for the Marathon to honor his beloved wife, who died of ovarian cancer.My innocent prayers for the individual Poet-God with a heart to make him the winner Supremo!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Alison here Autumn's going to start and tell others
Thanks for your kind words
Also Jerry's warmest regards,
My wife too sends her hugs to you all,
Here Autumn is going to start soon and they call fall,
Yellow foliage in jaundiced color.
My wife grumbles that her piggy till's level goes down
As I steal pennies like a magician for my Cuban cigar.
When I was drunk I stammered, 'Darling if we have a Son,
We could have form a musical group named 'The three stooges meet Herculeas.'
I always see your precious garden through your poem paintings,
Does the bard Paddy Martin resides near by?
He too a very nice character found in poetfreak,
So life goes as usual Sun rises and Sets according to the Master's instructions,
Homeless they sleep on the roads here and dream heaven on and off it seems?
Wish that tricky life smile at all with yours,
I buy lotteries and if luck pinches by a mistake
Definitely We jump over the Great Barrier reef
And see you all without an invitation!
Take care and good luck!
Let's smile together until the hardest breath crawls,
with best regards,
fondly,
nimal
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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One Unto The Other
What can a poet do for you?
Open up your heart
to let the sunshine through.
What can a poet say to you?
Words so powerful
to put your past in review.
What can a poet give to you?
A moment of prayer
to make you feel brand new.
What can a poet make alive in you?
A picture of your soul
as it comes into view.
What can you give the poet you read?
The chance to reach you
with something you need.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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