Though I grabbed the nostalgic wind she slipped away
Farmers collect the harvest merrily
And the festive season in my hometown started already.
The peculiar smell of oil-cakes(native) touch my nostrils.
It's really amazing how far it travels?
Oh! My roots are there and I am here the barren Saturnine tree.
* To Alison, Sandra and Linda................................
Jerry, Max, Denis, Dave and George!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A strange gathering of the bards
There won't be any restrictions it seems
And poets from all over the world met here in the workshop.
I saw at a corner Sandra and Alison having a long chat
And behind them Jerry, Max, Denis, Dave, George, Duncan and some others
arguing of the current money crisis.
Amanda, Susie, Linda and Patricia just entered into the hall with a smile.
The reciting started in an auspicious time and my turn came after a while.
I was ashamed as I have nothing new to tell,
Then the conductor insisted; 'Tell whatever you like.'
I murmured; 'Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.'
'Hey! Darling you are sleepwalking nowadays and why did you carry this rusty bucket from the bathroom.' She squeezed my hand and grumbled.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Postboy's tie-break
While he rides on his bicycle with a whistle
He speaks to himself; 'One day I would like to be a postgraduate.'
And he writes on a postcard address to his fiancee.
Yet he couldn't post it due to the long-standing postal strike.
* [The Campus wall is too high to jump over for a handicap.]
To all my friends Sandra, Alison, Jerry, Denis, Max, George, Duncan, Dave and et cetera...................in gratitude.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A lost bird flies in an awful night
It's very strange when others rest in their peaceful roost
Why you struggle alone in the unlimited sky?
Take care my friend as the Air planes collide themselves
in the broad day light.
And if you find a better place, please do not forget to give me a shout.
*[ I am worried dear as there is no place in the serene sky to stop and relax when you are tired? ]
To my friend Max Reif.............I am very anxious to hear your precious song again, 'Stars in your eyes' and I imagine all the friends around us; Sandra, Alison&Jerry, Amanda, Suzie, Denis, Dave, George, Duncan, Nick, Linda, Patricia and rest of all.I hear they clap.................!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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An evening in a solitary Park
The rusty padlock cries at the gate.
'Oh! It's almost closed.'
'Fortunate lovers sat a long time here and they were gone somewhere hand-in-hand.'
Lopsided rickety bench grumbles.
The motionless swing whispers' The children were already grown ups in full swing.'
The withered fallen leaves were helpless in the violent storm and it reminds me the sojourn in the mysterious life.
* Dedication to......my poet friends Sandra, Alison, Jerry, Amanda, Angie, Delilah, Dave, Denis, Duncan, Emma, George, Linda, Max, Nick, Patricia, Raynette, Roy and rest of all in the site.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Merry Christmas
Thick snow covered the mountain tops and the dangerous calendar is going to be finished very soon,
But a new shinning one comes with the same old nagging worries.
I hear the hymns from a faraway church
And I think of my old thatched village church and the skinny bearded father who wanders in my blood-soaked native land.
Oh! My Lord Jesus of Nazareth,
If we could have the Christmas at all to our miserable lives?
* Dedication to Sandra, Jerry, Alison, Denis, Dave, Max, George and the rest of my fellow poet friends in the site.
Merry Christmas and a prosperous new year to all.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monkeys, Strawberries & Grapes
' I give them utmost sweet but they are not satisfied
And they go behind bitter fruits, it's very difficult to find their taste.'
A sour grape cried.
'Let them run faster and they get tired very soon.' A wild strawberry laughed.
'We were in the same bunch once, but they removed their tails
And left the jungle for civilization.' A monkey joined them.
* To Sandra, Alison & Jerry, George, Max, Denis, Duncan, Dave and rest of all.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eldorado Park
I sit on an isolated bench beside the pond
And I write these few lines in my pocketbook.
Oh! The black swan in the pond dragged me to my boisterous school days.
We called her 'Blackbeauty'; The dark girl with a huge back.
I remember once I passed her a vulgar joke and still I repent.
'Hey! My sweetheart could I borrow your buttocks as my pillow? '
She just smiled only and her pearly teeth that I never forget and who knows where she goes?
The faraway golf links like a paradise and someone strikes the ball with the club and it flies to the infinity.
Oh! If you could do the same for me then I could have landed on my native grounds peacefully.
In the pellucid water of the pond I see my wrinkled ugly face and I realize the gravity of wreckage in the uncertain life.
* To Alison, Jerry, Sandra, Denis, Max, George and the rest of all.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My PH Women Friends..A Tribute
You led my way into a brighter and less troubled day
Reading your lovely writes and comments each day
Giving me the courage to try and believe
To be strong and faith that will never wade
I am blessed to have found you not only in my dream
But in the real pages in my life, or so it seem
It was your kindness that made me a better person
Thank you for helping me to move on.
You will always have a special place here in my heart: ,
Karin Anderson, Sandra Fowler, Alison Cassidy, Ernestine Northover,
JoAnn McGrath, Maia Padua, Naidz Ladia, Sandra Martyres,
Tina Benedicto, Linda Farr, Linda Ori, Linda Winchell, Lynda Robson
Marilyn Lott, Theo Onken, Reshma Ramesh
Note: Don't worry, PH Boy friends, i will have another special tribute
for all of you.Luv ya (LOL)
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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An uncreative medicine
no hope
no friend
no family
no home
no nativity
no nationality
no fame
no name
no future
no points
no market
no identity
no possessions still a tree without roots
no relationship still a tree without roots
no anarchism still a tree without roots
no hiearchy still a tree without roots
no country still a tree without roots
no colours still a tree without roots
no degrees still a tree without roots
no certificates
no imaginations
no dream
no poetry
no fiction
no story
no news
no media
no happiness still a tree without roots
no genre still a tree without roots
no labels still a tree without roots
no names still a tree without roots
THE FOURTH EYE
of
A post-conceptual poet.
The blurred Mustang in my foggy dream
I do remember my art teacher a Belle
And really a Goddess; Her fallen hair reached the buttocks
Talking eyes and the pleasant smile that brings flux to a lonely heart.
Still it's a dilemma why she remained as a spinster?
My nostalgic thoughts ferried into the boisterous schooldays
And she drew a horse on the blackboard.
Later she explained; 'Mustang is a wild horse of Mexico and California.'
Right now I want to shout to my dear stunning teacher that I struggle to live in California and I dream sometimes my beautiful Mustang neighs;
' Unfaithful Master you have already jumped the hurdle leaving me alone at the border.'
* The butterfly counts not months, but moments, and yet has time enough.
-unknown
To Alison & Jerry, Sandra, Amanda, Delilah, Dave, Denis, Duncan, Max and et cetera...................
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Peasant and a pince-nez Noblewoman
Like a prima Donna in an opera she comes to the harvest festival
The farmers and their families were gathered.
He holds a festoon in fervour which will be offered her at the Commemoration and he thinks this opportunity as a heyday!
Will this willowy idol recognize him among the crowd?
And she will give a faint smile in the least on one's own.
Then the weary soul's tattered heart can rejuvenate.
Definitely he will explain to all his farmer friends eagerly
Once the most beautiful woman in the world who smiled with him merrily?
To the poetess Alison.Cassidy
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dagenham Dave
Head in the clouds, and a mouthful of pie
Head in a blouse, everybody loves him
I see why
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
I love karen, I love sharon on the windowscreen
With never the need to fight or to question a single thing
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave
Hed love to touch, hes afraid that he might self-combust
I could say more, but you get the general idea
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham, dagenham
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dave, oh, dagenham, dagenham
Dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dave, oh, dave, oh, dave
Oh, dave
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lines That Mama Recited To Our Housemaid
we just hired a new housemaid
and i like her
because she sings like a
mountain bird
her voice like the wind
passing
by the dainty leaves
of summer
she has the native color
of a fertile
brown soil
her skin glows
like a shiny buri
mat
but then mama
is so old and cranky
and her lines
are dirty:
linda! linda! where's my tea?
linda throw wipe my urine
linda wipe my anus
linda wash my v.gina
linda, i have vomits
all over my bed
linda, clean my room
linda, wash the plates
linda, swat the flies
linda, take my lice
linda, wash my spittle
linda! linda! linda!
stupida! stupida!
stupida! stupida!
since then i have
never heard her sing
since then i have
not seen her smile
but really, i like
her more.......
poem by Antonio Liao
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Satur9
To the ages I have seen
Creatures I have stopped
Bloody simple features
Everyone's choosing sides
We are inside
We are inside now
We are inside
We are inside
Saturnine
How I'd love to waste your time
Saturnine
Saturnine
Goodbye all you widows
Tear-stain on the name
Glass into the vein
While seeking some relief
Saturnine
How I'd love to waste your time
Saturnine
Saturnine
Saturnine
You are waiting on the side
Camera take this picture
[?]
We have all forgotten
[?]
We are inside
We are inside now
We are inside
We are inside
You've always cried
So that [?]
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Who Rejects Christ
There's farmers and there's farmers,
There's many a field and field,
But none of the farmers round about
Can haul such harvest-wagons out
As I from an acre's yield.
There's plenty and plenty of farmers
That leave the ground by the fence,
Thinking it's nice if a patch of roses
Should scratch out the hay and tickle their noses
With nice little wild-rose scents.
I'm not like other farmers,
I make my farming pay;
I never go in for sentiment,
And seeing that roses yield no rent
I cut the stuff away.
A very good thing for farmers
If they would learn my way;
For crops are all that a good field grows,
And nothing is worse than a sniff of rose
In the good strong smell of hay.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Upon The Barren Fig-Tree In God's Vineyard
What, barren here! in this so good a soil?
The sight of this doth make God's heart recoil
From giving thee his blessing; barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Art thou not planted by the water-side?
Know'st not thy Lord by fruit is glorified?
The sentence is, Cut down the barren tree:
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
Hast thou been digg'd about and dunged too,
Will neither patience nor yet dressing do?
The executioner is come, O tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
He that about thy roots takes pains to dig,
Would, if on thee were found but one good fig,
Preserve thee from the axe: but, barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thy end will cursed be!
The utmost end of patience is at hand,
'Tis much if thou much longer here doth stand.
O cumber-ground, thou art a barren tree.
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Thy standing nor they name will help at all;
When fruitful trees are spared, thou must fall.
The axe is laid unto thy roots, O tree!
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
poem by John Bunyan
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There is a peculiar burning odor in the room, like explosives. the kitchen fills with smoke and the hot, sweet, ashy smell of scorched cookies. The war has begun.
quote by Alison Lurie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nursery School
I was caught by the principal,
'Hey! What are you doing here?
Don't you know this is a center for children
Usually under five years of age
And you are a matured person? '
I replied humbly ' I am sorry Madam, still I am a little tea pot short & stout and pour me little wisdom to become a sprout.'
*Dedication to my fellow poet friends Sandra, Jerry & Alison
Also best wishes to the California Writing strikers!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Pluck A Plum Where There Is No Tree
PLUCK A PLUM WHERE THERE IS NO TREE
God who freed
from fruit the seed
can pick a pear
from a baby tree.
God who sired
the hallowed fig
does harvest fruit
from a barren sprig.
God made blooms pastel
and bright fruits
and can a kumquat take
from a tree of quince.
Who made Pluto and
the Pleiades
can pluck a plum
where there is no tree.
================================ =====
(to Senator George Mitchell
.. tireless worker for peace
in America and Europe)
The Sanskrit word for the Wish
Fulfilling Tree is Asritakalpalateeka.
It is spoken of in Revelation.. the
tree with 12 kinds of fruit.)
poem by Saiom Shriver
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I slept with a Virgin Beggar-Maid
It's a Starry night and I was bit drunk.
I saw the run away Rabbit from the Moon
And it's drowning in the milky way.
The poor queen; her ramshackle castle on the pavement,
She quietly sleeps and I count her ribs.
The broken-plastered Crown shines in the darkness.
Her flimsy nightdress transparent and it's very comfortable,
I rest on the soft pillow of her warm bosom.
Her skinny breast full of compassion and the prominent dark nipples
Like sharp blades tickle my haunted soul.
I touched her soft spoken heart with my wounded index finger
But she was fast asleep after her strenuous beggary.
I heard the ruling King's gossips who was disguised as a lunatic
And trespassed in our premises.
I woke up to a siren of a city Ambulance and realized it's a dream.
My beloved wife groans aside of me and I tried to imagine her smiley face,
But in reality, I would never get an opportunity to see her saintly face again.
To my friends Sandra, Dave, Max, Jerry & Alison, George and rest of all!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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