Withered grass on the playground
In the morning I dropped my grandson
to the Kindergarten
And I watched a Father plays football
with his daughter.
My inquisitive mind traveled
to the bygone years,
How my poor Mom was sitting in the tuck-shop
and watched my acrobats in the playground?
I like to go to school again
But my loving Mom I don't know your whereabouts
with my old books?
I am old now and see the nearby burial grounds
Some stray dogs play with their puppies?
'No man is poor who has had a godly mother.'
-Abraham Lincoln
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I walk slowly to my old thatched school
Birch trees have taken off their winter clothes
And exposed to the smiling Sun.
I see no raindrops and birds flew in the sky
Some robins chat with the worms on the playground
Where my grandson merry with the other children in the school.
And the bell rang all lined up like a fancy train to go to their classes.
I was so sad where's my school and the golden class.
The parapet wall divided the Girl school next door
Remember we peeped through the broken spaces
When the flowery girls come out to the grounds!
I was like a punished student at the belfry hall
In the bygone schooldays?
If there's a school for elderly/handicapped
I'll get a photocopy of my tattered certificate of birth
And I really dream to enroll as soon as possible?
[A new broom sweeps clean, but the old brush knows the corners.]
-Irish Proverb
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I seek my little Hometown
*['Sleep, little darlings, I watch while you slumber.Oh sun! Divine sun! Ripening the pumpkins everyone.']-'P'ere Goriot', Honor'e de Balzac
I peeped into the vast World map
and found my pearl like tiny island Sri Lanka
in the Indian Ocean!
And I marked my Hometown
'Katubedda', actually we had a house of our own there
Poor Mom built that from our loving Father's
Working compensation, who died
under an Aircraft hanger at the age of 32.
There's a famous University in Katubedda
and luckily I got an opportunity to jump there
for a brief course 'Radar Observation & Plotting'
It's a part of my seafarer career.
Now I observe my poor companions there
and plot their whereabouts in my inquisitive mind?
Their day to day greetings, smiles and cries
I see and hear on my heart screen
Black & White!
to the blind Violinist Mr. Gilbert who fiddles at the fish market on sundays!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My Mother And I
You dropped me off for the first day of school,
You cried a little and I looked like a fool,
You watched me play, play all day,
As you sat there, you would say,
Don't go too far, stay where I can see you,
I never listened, I’d stray away,
As I grew older I still would play,
But play with girls I’d say, no way
School became harder, you'd stay up and say,
You should have done your homework before you went to play,
I laughed, who would want to do homework instead of play?
I never listened, I’d stray away,
As times changed you grew sick,
I tried to make you feel better any way I could,
But the sickness there, could not be overlooked,
You said you'd be fine, it'll all be ok,
I couldn't look I strayed away,
You're gone now, and yes I’m sad,
But it was for the better and for that I’m glad,
It hurts to never see you, but are you gone?
I’m sitting here smiling, thinking of times past,
I wish we had longer to talk and sit around,
But I feel you're still here and I hear you shout,
Don't go too far, stay where I can see you
I finally listen, and will never stray away
I love you mommy and miss you dearly,
I can see you very clearly,
You're sitting up high and watching me play,
In this great big world, I promise I will not stray
A Homeless writes on the Ballot?
O the rich Winter comes
Poor Man's eternal enemy?
I have to move from my cardboard house
Nearby the Railway Station.
A hole in my old boot
and a penny stuck in the wallet?
I have to skip fish oil
the doctor prescribed for cholesterol
But I have to fill my miniature empty bottle
with that weather-beaten Elixir?
For decades I just dropped my poor vote
to every Tom, Dick and Harry
But still it's a dream
The handsome politician's usurp Utopia!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Mommy And Me
You dropped me off for the first day of school,
You cried a little and I looked like a fool,
You watched me play, play all day,
As you sat there, you would say,
Don't go too far, stay where I can see you,
I never listened, I’d stray away,
As I grew older I still would play,
But play with girls! I’d say, no way!
School became harder, you'd stay up and say,
You should have done your homework before you went to play,
I laughed, who would want to do homework instead of play?
I never listened, I’d stray away,
As times changed you grew sick,
I tried to make you feel better any way I could,
But the sickness there, could not be overlooked,
You said you'd be fine, it'll all be ok,
I couldn't look I strayed away,
You're gone now, and yes I’m sad,
But it was for the better and for that I’m glad,
It hurts to never see you, but are you gone?
I’m sitting here smiling, thinking of times past,
I wish we had longer to talk and sit around,
But I feel you're still here and I hear you shout,
Don't go too far, stay where I can see you
I finally listen, and will never stray away!
I love you mommy and miss you dearly,
I can see you very clearly,
You're sitting up high and watching me play,
In this great big world, I promise I will not stray
poem by Alex Ramos
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Real Life Tale Of An Ungrateful Daughter
an ungrateful poor daughter blames her father
her mother sad died thirty-two long years ago
her mother did not choose to suffer illness die
was not mother’s fault choice to daughter leave
daughter in bitterness hate life torments father
her father worked two three jobs her education to pay
her poor father said study succeed attend university
she wanted to spend money work in Texas chicken
she married a shiftless dreamer saying play party angles
her father helped raise their two children in his home
she appreciates nothing saved not never to buy her home
she appreciates not years her family lived with her father
she appreciates not her eldest daughter her father raised
this daughter her husband accept no responsibility blame
daughter says if mother were alive life would be different
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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Missing Cravat
When flurries in the gloomy sky
I am still awake and inquisitive?
Your pinkish-mauve silky scarf
Blown in the wind and safely landed
At my backyard.
But how do I know your whereabouts
To hand over if it's not a keepsake
Are you faraway or close by?
I have no proper sleep these days
Till I get your prompt response
And please do not cremate my innocent hopes
in your vast burial grounds *before the music ends?
*for Sandra Fowler!
[ I listen your precious poems in the CD where Ihab Badrun reads in his deep voice; 'A hymn to Frost' (for my grandfather who started work in the coal mines of West Virginia when he's twelve years old,) I feel a teardropp in my eye? ]
[I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases each time it was a different story.]
Quoted from Edith Wharton's lovely novel 'Ethan Frome'
Ethan Frome a heartfelt humanity that can still resonate across the years to the reader of today.
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Enemies were there in his dream too?
All his grey hair
Turned into a Golden spiral
At the barber shop in Heaven
And he watched in the mirror
Myriads of Barbers
Behind him
With sharp razors?
to all my friends!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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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When Sun peeps through the tattered sky I saw dew on the grass!
Our daughter in Australia sent us a digital camera.
Thank you very much!
I ran to the faraway burial grounds in my dreams
To take a photograph of my poor Mom & Dad!
Then the Cemetery Keeper who's smell of Liquor
Stopped me and said; ' Leave them alone as they're fast asleep.'
Still it's a dilemma the skinny drunkard whether he's dead or alive?
*I dedicate this poem to my shadowy friend Paddy Martin who's fast asleep!
Please have a rest as the War still goes on here and there?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Quiescence here like his deep poems!
'Here you come to New South Wales'
The board by the roadside glitters!
And I got down from the bus
A limousine for the first time in my life?
O it's an unusual quietness in this burial grounds
Situated in a small town perhaps his birth place?
At last after roaming around
I found his humble tomb!
I touched and it's cold
Like frozen death,
Suddenly I woke up!
But I was not certain
Whether it's morning
Or still it's night and where I have been
With my teary eyes?
*[He sent me his two poetry books 'Poems that bloom in my garden & The ancient poet', few weeks before he dies and this was written on the back with his mischievous hand writing and the friendly signature! .................To Nimal, my brother & friend thank you for being who you are.-Paddy Martin]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Was Comrade Jesus Christ a Palestinian and Mr.Judas Iscariot was a Jew?
Anyway Comrade Jesus fought against the unjust
And Judas betrayed him?
I write this New Nursery Rhyme to poor kindergarten
'Youend-O'
Please Re-name this cruel World
for the Human Welfare?
a humble dedication to United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Woman Five Doors Down
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted is the best player in the school football team
And that one day he will play in an A.F.L. Grand Final and that more than once of late she's had this dream
Of watching him receive the Coleman medal for best on ground on football's biggest day
Watched by well over ninety thousand people who cheer him on with a loud hip hooray.
But locals who know of football and watched Ted play say he will never play at the top grade
That he won't go down Swanston Street in the back of a lorry
to loud applause in the Grand Final Parade
They say his mother greatly over rates him and that in his team he's just an average player
And that not one in his club will play A.F.L. football with good under age players they do not compare
Ted's mother believes her son will be a football hero and she seemed so convinced that she convinced me
But others who have seen him play say different and with her opinions they do not agree
They say that she will end up disappointed that her dreams for her son will not come true
That he won't make a career out of football another line of work he must pursue.
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted will one day play in the famed M.C.G.
And be the hero of a great Grand Final in a game that will go down in history
And though others seem to think that she's only dreaming I hope her son will be a football great
And that she will applaud him in the Grand Final and the football fans his name will celebrate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Farmer's unlettered wife laments
She lives in a remote village with her one and only daughter.
Her epileptic husband died a long ago,
Then the child was just completed five years.
'Oh! The University, it seems close to universe.
I have never seen such a place even in my faded dreams.
So my darling daughter you have already packed everything and leaves soon.
I am not worried about me.
While you learn many things of the cruel World, I am sure there won't be a single blank page in your heavy books for the orphan shepherd boy to make a pastel drawing.
He too run away like your kind father.
Though I am a simpleton my dear, that I could predict well.'
* To my loving deceased mother, her unaccomplished dream is that one of her children would be enrolled to an university some day. Mom! I am sorry but I learned to draw a black face with white paint and vice versa in the life-school.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Olympic Games started with a bang!
I too watched the grand spectacle
in my old T.V.,
Really it's beautiful
and a superb pageant!
But I have a regret
and a sad poem gathers in my heart of the colonial
poor friends who left behind?
They could run faster than Jaguar when in hunger
But unfortunately their loose-leaf passports were not endorsed
for flying overseas because they're still rural village birds
bare-footed?
[It's good to have an end to journey towards;
but it's the journey that matters, in the end.]-Le Guin
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poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Soup Kitchen
When the Election draw nearer the handsome politicians are served free to the poor,
And the innocents believe the franchise is a golden opportunity to bring their fans to the mesmerizing stage.
Afterwards, the poor dance like puppies to the sopranos and the stronghold does the sordid Puppetry.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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In memoriam of their serenity
I like to sleep again in a cradle.
Where is my perambulator?
I lost my feeding bottle
and the bootees are not fit now.
My beautiful mom who was the protectress
of this fawn.
When I crawl you gave me your big hand
my handsome dad.
Where did you go with my poor mom?
It's unbelievable,
When I take my children to school in the morning
I see both of you through the mist at the handrail
with my old books.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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If I had a Son?
When he comes from school
Definitely he complains;
'Dear Papa! I had a problem
in my geography class,
Teacher indicates this is North
That's South and this side is East
And that side is West.
Then I said that I won't agree.'
Yes my little unborn Son
I too had the same problem in my night school.
They made the Compass, directions
For their own benefits
But nobody could show us where's the Happiness?
Then one night after a nightcap in my dream I heard;
'Why don't you try my place the old man? '
The faraway old isolated burial grounds muttered!
A humble dedication to the poetess Susan Jarvis!
*[Is nothing in life ever straight and clear, the way children see it? ]
-Rosie Thomas
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Father Daughter Moments
My daughter said something the other day
We were sitting on the front steps, talking
Someone wanted to enter the building, she stood up and said 'we're just having a father daughter moment'
My daughter is still young, only 27
And hearing her say that, my heart swelled with pride
She still wants to have moments with her father
My adult daughter still needed me
So much is said about the mother-daughter bond
But there's an even stronger bond between a father and a daughter
No matter how old she is, she's still daddy's little girl
And he always wants to be there for her
Father daughter moments last a lifetime
From playground accidents to a broken heart
You do your best to help her pain go away
Because when she's in pain, you are too
poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
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