Tortoise's feathers
Among the ruins I sat on a stone bench facing an isolated pond.
All of a sudden a tortoise came up from the muddy water.
And she's older than my Great Grandma it seems,
But she called me uncle.
Oh! How I am wearied along this useless journey?
'Hey! Uncle this isn't an ideal place to roam around,
I'll give you my feathers better you fly and try another place.'
I borrowed her feathers and said; 'Thank you.'
I flew the whole day but still I see the pond below
And I realized that I cannot fly anymore leaving the ruins.
* To the deceased Sri Lankan Veteran Dramatist Actor and Author Henry. Jayasena in gratitude.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Like Horny Men
Don’t let the chickens out
Uncle said
close the gate
we don’t want
the foxes getting in
and tearing them
to pieces
because they will you know
they’ll go in for the kill
but maybe only go off
with one
and you stared
at the chickens
running around
as Uncle went
into the henhouse
to collect eggs
amongst the straw
and hay and feathers
you want to come in
and find the eggs with me?
Uncle called
and you followed him
into the henhouse
and smelt the henny stink
and shit and closeness
of hay and straw
getting up your nose
and Uncle held up an egg
and said
be careful how you hold them
don’t want any broken ones
and you searched
amongst hay and straw
and feathers and picked out
a warm egg between
your little boy finger and thumb
as if it were some gem
pulled from a pile of dung
and you held it up
to the light coming through
the henhouse window
like some offering
to the gods
a fertility symbol
you knew nothing
about then
the ways
of wild women
and horny men.
poem by Terry Collett
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Will One Day Go.
Sorry about
your granddad's death
Judith said
as you stood
beside her
by the pond
at the back
of the house
in the woods
the autumn sun
lighting up patches
of the water's skin
it was sudden
you said
my uncle told me
she took
your hand
in hers
and squeezed
her soft skin
on yours
her thumb
rubbing
the back
of your hand
best remember him
as he was
she said
living and smiling
not some place
lying dead
you nodded
trying
to conjure up
when you'd
seen him last
sitting in
the back garden
of his house
months earlier
talking
of his flowers
he'd grown
from seed
his white hair
moved slightly
by the breeze
he liked my new suit
you said
thought it looked smart
she kissed your cheek
and said
hold on
to things
like that
your memories
place them
in a drawer
inside your head
a jackdaw flew
across the skin
of the pond
the black and white
of wings and tail
reflected
in the water
below
what comes
from God
she whispered
whether
nature's beauty
or ones
we love
will one day
sadly go.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Bulbul
The bulbul creates its own small rainbows
where happily it splashes in the pond
washing out good its own feathered suit,
while looking great eyed at the small pool
before it goes deeper into the water,
it rolls letting water-drops splash,
pressing down, its feathers, is dripping wet,
when happily it walks up and down, slapping wings
and then sedately starts to drink,
calling dozens of birds nearer;
twittering arrogantly, scuttling past the porch
and its raiment of feathers is shining from the water.
The bulbul creates its own small rainbows,
while looking great eyed at the small pond.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Bond Made In Heaven
we have a unique bond,
strengthened over a period of time,
over four years to be exact.
a gentleman,
an uncle in a million.
a great poet,
a friend,
and an advisor,
I am truly blessed
with the best uncle anyone could wish for
a man of compassion
for whom I have great respect
my uncle dearest
and I his niece
never a word out of place
thank you Uncle dearest
for keeping me in prayers
and always wishing for me the best
poem by Persian Khushi
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Water so Deep and Profound
Water so sinuous and devious,
And as mystifying as you.
Water is always hiding its true self,
Never in one form.
Water can be the shimmer,
Reflecting off the light of the pond,
Making the pond seem magnificent.
Water can be the rushing sound,
As it escapes the secretive pond,
And runes down into the vast ocean,
Seeking adventure and unfound dreams.
Water can be the feeling of calmness,
As it sits there, overlooking the pond,
With wonder and seeing how it made it what it is.
Water so supple and wondrous,
The pond is born from the water.
Water so deep and profound,
Just like you,
The pond so incomplete without water,
Just like your family.
poem by Music Galore
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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
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Uncle Albert/admiral Halsey
Were so sorry uncle albert
Were so sorry if we caused you any pain
Were so sorry uncle albert
But theres no one left at home
And I believe Im gonna rain
Were so sorry but we havent heard a thing all day
Were so sorry uncle albert
But if anything should happen well be sure to give a ring
Were so sorry uncle albert
But we havent done a bloody thing all day
Were so sorry uncle albert
But the kettles on the boil and were so easily called away
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Admiral halsey notified me
He had to have a berth or he couldnt get to sea
I had another look and I had a cup of tea and butter pie
(the butter wouldnt melt so I put it in the pie)
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Live a little be a gypsy, get around(get around)
Get your feet up off the ground
Live a little, get around
Live a little be a gypsy, get around(get around)
Get your feet up off the ground
Live a little, get around
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Ooo------------ooo-------------
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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September Chill.
Uncle brings in the dead chicken by
The neck and begins plucking out the
Feathers with a skill that fascinates
Your 10 year old eyes and as you stand
And watch the chicken gradually becomes
Nude and some how not so grand not so
Chicken-like and then Uncle cuts off the
Head and throws it a side and then guts
It and washes it through with water and
Then puts it down on a large plate where
It lays in a solemn silence without fanfare
Or hymns or prayers just Uncle lighting up
A cigarette and you staring at the chicken
Clean and pure and still and from the open
Window a cool evening late September chill.
poem by Terry Collett
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This Is Just One Of Those Places
the pond is gone
what took place was a change
that replaced it with
concrete pavements
the lanzones trees totally
vanished
i can still hear the cutting
machines
shouting victory for change
what the sowed instead
are low cost houses
thriving like mushrooms
this is just one of those places
that the heart wants to remember
but who cares?
many may not have known that from
the heart of this ruined place
once bore the great writer and poetess
when once a child
she bathed in that pond
gathered ripe guavas from those trees
rested under the shade of
the mabolo tree
composed the great lines
that we still love to read till these days
of our great depression
many will not remember anymore
but once there were dwellers here
in peace and harmony with
nature and themselves
oh, all of them have gone to other places
and we who have turned to stone
have no way of finding once again their traces.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At the Pond
As I looked around the pond
I see people playing in the snow
Laughing and throwing snowballs at each other
Making snow angles with great pride
Children sledding down the hill as if flying
As I look on the pond
I see people skating
Skating like soaring eagles
Twirling like tornadoes
But graceful as a ballerina dance
As I look around the pond
I see a people having fun
Enjoying themselves
Helping each other as if they were their little sister
I see a peaceful and fun world
But I
I am having no fun
No fun at all
For I am sitting on the bench
Sitting on the bench like a lost dog
For I am cripple
poem by Cassy Taberna
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The Village Pond
Here, there, women, children and men
Talk animatedly, little water waves disrupted by scooping
Water vessels, the faded green water lilies, shoved aside.
Cows moo, the goats bleat,
School children scramble for a spill,
The edges, slippery and muddy, non of a bother.
The gold, liquid of life, simmers under the hot sun,
Though, shrinking in size, by every draw,
The earth is bare, the pond tags their hope.
Here in the pond, they see, sigh and fall
The feminine and masculine bodies attract
The gossip, filters, confirmed, a new life sees dawn.
Wild tree fruits, like monsters surround the village pond
I'm told the fruits, purify the village pond
Lives ruled, made to see day, Honor to the village pond.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Living Waters
All drink from the same pond,
Pride is out of place
(there is no owner)
Humility is out of place
(it is inverted Pride)
Enough that drinkers drink freely
and do not erect fences facing.
Set out to fence in a small pond,
you end up in a small cage
(which has no owner)
Wet
poem by Brian Taylor
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Maya
little brown birds with grey beaks and a patch of black
on their heads
three of them
drinking water on a pond of water created
by the little rain this morning
as i go near them
they all look at me and then in a sudden
they all fly away leaving some ripples in the
muddled pond
i never think of them as my enemies
they all leave at once
i do not have a gun
or a club or a slingshot
what i have in my hands are rice grains, nothing but rice grains
yes, rice grains for all of them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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December Night
The cold slope is standing in darkness
But the south of the trees is dry to the touch
The heavy limbs climb into the moonlight bearing feathers
I came to watch these
White plants older at night
The oldest
Come first to the ruins
And I hear magpies kept awake by the moon
The water flows through its
Own fingers without end
Tonight once more
I find a single prayer and it is not for men
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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Omnibus and the Excursion
They are singing and dancing
in this luxurious vehicle
going on a picnic to a historical place
where the ruins are still remained.
They count the pillars of the decayed castle
while the heroes slept quietly.
King's old pond almost dry and no water
only they hear the frogs chatter.
Queen's shattered mirror reflects
the kaleidoscopic picture of life.
Horses skeletons and all the remnants are standstill.
All are quiet on their way back journey,
snoring, some awake but drowsy
the bending mountain road is very risky.
The chauffeur too sleepy
and the bus descending steeply?
To my dearest father who met an accident and left all of us when I was only eight years old.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Feathers!
feathers on me
again and again
first to fly and now to earth rest
enable me to get ready
and carried me through you
anywhere there are feathers
like you said!
in me in you!
a very strange and intoxicating feeling
afterwards, that you traced my body
maybe i have gasp, of some lack of air!
in high feather, full feathers
you will be writhing with ecstacy
Very pleasurable for me
I feel extremely good
you make me a path a invisible way
eagle feathers very powerful
sound bird feathers very delicate
for tight places or open places
make his sound so soft
Ah! My God! ! !
give me the name of that medicine!
Feathers on me!
Feathers on you!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Letters Or Feathers?
A letter has run into feathers,
The old image of letters are words;
Keep the frock of letters a secret,
How delightful a clean person this is!
Letters are dear to the touch,
Few will discover a grassy bank,
In wrapped water, water all white,
Leaving fishes to the taste,
Feathers are scales this time.
My head chattered from time to time,
Leaving the dear person in a landing.
Let the river seek a blunt instrument
Called rocks, a fully able object,
Worrying is all it contains.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Place Of Solitude
Everyone has a place of solitude
where the world cannot invade.
Where we can sit in silence
and enjoy our own thoughts
away from everyone.
A park bench by a pond
dedicated to someone
who liked the view.
A church pew
where people sit
and ask god to see them through.
Everyone has their own place
that gives them peace of mind.
A place to rest their weary body
and leave
the rest of the world behind.
Their own space
a place of solitude.
4 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Teardrop
Liz fraser
(love)love is a verb
Love is a doing word
Feathers on my breath
Gentle impulsion
Shakes me makes me lighter
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
In the night of matter
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Water is my eye
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire of a confession
Feathers on my breath
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Stumbling a little (x2)
song performed by by Massive Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My White Uncle
Thanks to my white uncle in the U.S.A,
For today i am now living together with him.
After the hard journey of my life in Africa,
Today i am enjoying my days with my uncle.
My white uncle did his best to get me into the U.S.A.,
And out of Africa with love we do share our ideas together;
All the same, it is very nice to have a great person like him.
I am dark in comlexion and he is fair in complexion,
But the ture love of life is about colours;
And together we are very glad today.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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