Where Have You Gone, My Kin?
Where have gone these Asian tigers and Anopheles?
As the westerly winds blocked the breeze from the sea,
Chennai is sweltering at 43 degree celcius.
A thousand have fallen to sunstroke in the nearby State.
But where they are now, is a mystery?
They must have air-dashed to Swiss bank
to deposit their hard earned money; you may call it “ bribe”.
They could have visited China and Pakistan in stealth
to query why don’t they support India, an Asian Nation,
for annihilating the terrorists in Kashmir,
as they lent support to Sri Lanka to wipe out
Tamil Freedom Tigers who were fighting for freedom?
They throve well in Chennai as a community
with more than 3000 species loving each other
and casting bogus votes during the polls.
Distilling and selling arrack was their wonted trade.
They identify their kin by the length of proboscis
as people do by a beard or sword,
a cross-belt or a cross round the neck,
a big moustache or a tuft of hair,
a ring around the wrist or by a dialect spoken.
They have built castles as Dengue, Flariasis and Malaria
and sworn to mosquitovise the whole earth.
Some enter the jungles and hills
for suckling the tribes with the love of their faith.
Some of them are taught Kungfoo and Karate,
the martial arts to smash the opponents with guts.
As you, the biting heroes are away,
the flies here paly by picking pockets, snatching chains,
breaking into houses at night, carrying hawala money
or smuggling drugs by superfast trains.
You have a chip of your own with secret codes
and so your whereabouts are not known.
At times, you export female children to gulf for pelf
and kidnap small boys, to tie them around the shank of camels,
running wild in deserts. Without you I feel foreign here,
as you would hit at my face when I ride a bike
and keep me awake through 300 nights in a year
by hovering over me and trespassing into my nostrils.
--------------
Note: Asian Tigers l; and Anopheles are kinds of mosquitoes.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Dark Forests
Dark forests...Northern...Sourthern Mountains,
Fierce tigers circle around the villages in broad daylight.
...To The red dawn of twilight
The skies shine bright
Protecting what is theirs
In the magic of the night
The tigers roam everywhere taking lives for food.
The Majesty of the tigers power,
The prey dare not make a sound.
The new kin tiger sprout every year
In the valleys low.
Male and female tigers come up and down the mountains in large groups.
There is a village near the tigers’ dens in the valley,
Where tigers often come and eat the villagers’ brown calves.
Rich young men dare not shoot the arrows at the tigers.
The Majesty of the Tiger lives forever
The Majesty of the Tiger
They only pretend to check for the tigers’ tracks in the forests.
poem by Peter LeBuhn
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The Merciful Hand of America
Sad are the hearts which watched in calm
when the surrendered and the bravely stood tigers,
the civilian Tamils of Eelam of SriLanka
were maimed, butchered and raped
by a lawless army, with the cannons
of some cannibalistic Asian nations.
Silent are the tears that fall
from the blind eyes of the UNO,
which had been in deep slumber for a year,
when the Tamils were treated inhumanly in fenced camps.
It is now waking up to browse the dusty CDs back.
Remorseful is the mind of British,
a sinner who gave the uncut fruit of freedom,
to the majority, Buddhist Sinhalese to rule,
but in the case of India, the land was rent into two.
Shocked is the cosmopolitan brain of America,
whose hand crushed terror and cremated the dictators,
for democracies to bloom, but remained dumb to surprise all,
when the wombs which gave birth to tigers were bombed
and the hands -tied naked rebels were shot and killed
and the war-field was scattered with molested corpses.
Grief-stricken are the Great, great grand dads and mums
of Tamil Nadu, who were unable to stop the supply of Indian arms.
The Indian government took revenge upon the entire Tamils,
for the alleged killing of her leader by the tigers.
Mournful are the souls of the beloved parents and uncles,
In Canada, Malasyia, Aussie and African lands.
Solemn are the faces of Pakistan and China
for their weapons used for the ethnic cleansing.
They would reap what they sowed in history.
The occupiers of the lands of other nations
don't feel the pulse of the freedom fighters.
The funeral mass for the late Tamils will be held
in the cosmological chapel in Lemuria
and the ashes will be committed to the Indian ocean.
Your battle for freedom is over; we're missing you greatly.
Your thirst for liberty still remains in our hearts.
Rest in peace in the ocean where our forefathers were deluged.
We fondly remember and adore your courage.
The merciful hand of America will render justice.
Till then your memories will not leave us to sleep.
---
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Asian
Asian this.
Asian that.
Being Asian taking the front seat.
After being in the back!
And I am glad!
I've been 'aging' for years...
And finally...
We are getting some attention!
'I believe the topic is the economy! '
Exactly!
That's my point.
I'm on a fixed budget!
Dedicated To:
All my Asian brothers and sisters.
I respect your gifts, brilliance...
and devotion to humanity.
One Love! '
~LSP~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cheek To Cheek
Two tigers wandered to and fro,
Like restless tigers do,
Until they chose to take things slow
Just like the chosen few...
Let others pounce and leap for joy,
Explore for all they're worth,
But these two tigers played it coy
And settled on the earth...
Thus side-by-side and cheek-to-cheek
They nestled 'neath the sun,
Content merely to pause and peek
At others having fun...
As if to say, 'You go for it!
We'll stay here keeping guard...
Conserve your strength, keep fighting fit,
Just don't you play too hard! '
While others every joy embrace
As if Hell-bent on thrills,
Some tigers simply spend their days,
Like statues watching hills...
They look like bookends on the shelves,
Now rooted to the spot!
Wise tigers learn to pace themselves!
That sun is too darned hot!
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cheek To Cheek'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sethu Ocean Project(TamilNadu, India)
To shorten the sea-trade route
and export goods and expand trade,
the stone-bridge across the Palk Straits
off the town of Rameswaram
needs to be cleared away.
But some superstitious men
trade tirade against the Project
and stop carrying on the work.
The stones might have been laid
in ancient days by the Tamil Kings.
But these religious bigots
argue with fictional stories
that it was built by Rama
with the help of Hanuman's forces.
Whoever could have built it
but what use the people have
within the sea the bridge to save?
When Katchativu Islands
where the Tamils catch fish,
were gifted to Lanka,
these leaders slept in Parliament.
When the lakhs of Tamils were killed
enmass by hurling bombs on them
in the war-torn Lanka,
these Indians were on a honeymoon!
But the Sethu Sea Project work
which would bring jobs and livelihood
to lakhs of workers and farmers
is blocked by a writ in court, citing
legends, myths and fancy tales.
The Chinese are fast in trading.
Their astute men and material,
their indigenous and electronic goods
have filled and spilled Australia.
See, our flustered ambassadars
prostrate before the Lankan leaders
to plead them not to be a host
to the agile Buddhist Chinese.
As the Pakistan demands Kashmir,
Lanka will stretch its hand
to Rameswaram, the temple town.
The Chinese would succour them
as they have formed a triangle
to feel the pulse of the brave Indians.
------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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While I Was Walking My Way Back Home
a fat woman
sits by the alley
with a blond hair
dyed
not natural for her
race
her eyes are
chinks
and her built as small
she is the usual Asian
woman
mindful of
who passes by
cannot resist talking
and putting
in contempt
a fellow Asian
like her.
i wave a hand at her
and call her
sister.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Asian Rut
Day oh so late
Strangely the sun still shone
Ooh asian boy
What are you on ?
Day oh so late
Strangely the sun still shone
Oh asian boy
What are drugs are you on ?
Oh... strange
Tooled-up asian boy
Has come to take revenge
For the cruel, cold killing
Of his very best friend
Tooled-up asian boy
Has come to avenge
The cruel, cold killing
Of his only friend
Ha! la, la, la, oh ...
Theres peace through our school
Its so quiet in the hall
Its a strange sign for one
Of whats to come
Tough and cold and pale
Oh, they may just impale you on railings
Oh, english boys
It must be wrong
Three against one ?
Oh ...
Brakes slammed, and
His gun jammed, and
As far as I could tell
Brave asian boy
Was dealt a blow and fell
Im just passing through here
On my way to somewhere civilised
And maybe Ill even arrive
Maybe Ill even arrive
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mosquito's Feast
A humming mosquito said: gun, gun, gun,
For greatest ever feast come, come, come.
Party area is a house of SHETH,
And venue is his lush dark pate.
Angelic Anopheles and Cute Culex* are special guests,
And black trouser is place for rest.
Special item is blood of HITESH,
Our greatest enemy, whom I detest.
Coil, Net and Mat may prove hitch,
But, 'Arise, awake and stop not till goal is reached.'**
Please keep your children at bay,
From a newest mosquito killer spray.
With God’s grace destroy devilish plan,
And with malaria wipe out evil human clan.
*Anopheles and Culex are species of mosquito
**Arise, awake and stop not till goal is reached-Saying of Swami Vivekananda.
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
28/09/2008
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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The Light In The Tigers Eyes
Sometime I cannot imagine the difference
Between you and the blackest night
You know those nights when only tigers stalk
And lie waiting for the sound of your breath
The faintest reflecting backlight is in their eyes
So I can only say one thing in your defence
You have laid with tigers
You have their scent
You know how they stalk and what they sense
I do not
And so I am terrified to lay in the thicket
And wait
---------
Have you seen a tigers foot
Stare at it soft and silent
Able to tread with no sound
On the leaf strewn floor of its jungleI
It can kill quickly without fuss and song
Except of course for its victims
Noises of dying
On a dark night I am scared
Of you in the same way
You with that tigers breath
And stealth that terrifies me so
Please I will beg
Please don't
---------
Growls snarls and ferocity
Are just conversation
To you and the tiger
Your cigar at the end of dinner
Your confidence in terrifying
The bridle you have on me
My fear is the peg
Your look is the rope
Attached to my collar
Staking me out
To wait
In the silenced black night
To wait
For you and the tiger
To pounce
poem by Geoffrey Fafard
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Up Against It
Can you hear it?
Ear against the ground and youll hear it
I can tell a change when I hear it
We are tigers
Kings of jungles
Trapped in cages
We forget we once were free!
And the average swain
Would be contented in his chains
Were it not for complainers like me
Throw the book
Im up against it
Up against the rules
Bring the experts
Up against them
Up against the fools
Bring on city hall
Im against them all
Lamp of freedom
No, you cant change
Human nature
Wheels of power
Keep revolving endlessly
With a fanatical faction
A charismatic attraction
Theres a piece of that action for me
Call the press
Im up against it
Up against the flacks
Bring the shrink
Im up against it
Up against the quacks
Revenuers
Up against it
Up against the tax
Name some names
And Im up against them
Bullies, big and small
Im against them all
All we need is some vitality
Like an [...] individuality
But I guess they [...]
[...] make it all alone
Bring the girls
Im up against them
Im up against their lips
Bring the boys
Im up against them
Up against their hips
Bring the priest
Im up against him
Up against that cross
Bring the mob
Im up against it
Up against the boss
Bring the cops
Im up against it
Up against the jaw
Throw the book
Im up against it
Up against the law
Politicians, all - Im against them
Fascist lackies all against the wall
Fist of freedom
Guns of freedom
Bring the lackies
Up against it
Up against the wall
Bring the bishop
Up against it
Up against the wall
Bring the chairman
Up against it
Up against the wall
Put the general
Up against it
Up against the wall!
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's not like that often, I mean, I suppose out of a ratio of 10 fans maybe like 1 or 2 of 'em might be Asian, and maybe every second or third time they might bring up something that they're Asian and I'm Asian.
Nothing Remains to Lose for Freedom
Half of the Tamils of Eelam in Srilanka
had fled and migrated to countries
where the people humane and rulers divine live.
The poor, old and the disabled totter there
to receive the cudgels and bullets from the Sinhalese.
The tigers who fought for freedom are no more.
The parents of the tigers got their limbs broken
or shot in day light before the scared and starved.
The womenfolk lost their virtue and killed themselves.
The young boys and girls are ostracized and disabled.
The lands of the Tamils are colonised with gangs of goons.
The Tamils have linguistic, racial and religious differences
from the Sinhalese who grabbed the reins from the British.
The idols of their deities demolished in desecrated temples.
The honour of the Tamils was annihilated
before the very eyes of the UNO which holds now polls
to decide their fate and change the blood-stained soil
where the soldiers raped the corpses of the women-tigers.
They have lost their land, men, wealth and honour.
What is there to lose more for getting freedom?
The members of the UNO are religious bigots except a few.
Will they vote in favour of the beleaguered Tamils in fences?
May the Lord open their minds to see the plight of the Tamils.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Dictators ride to and fro upon tigers which they dare not dismount. And the tigers are getting hungry.
quote by Winston Churchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money
A rustle,
' You cannot live without me.'
Then the rustic man cried;
'I have never seen you.'
'Then you must be a house arrest.'
*In Sri Lanka,
Ex-General in Military court.Former Army chief Sarath.Fonseka stood before a Court Martial on March 16.2010.
War with Tamil Tigers ended and when this Vendetta ends?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Tryst with Destiny (in poem form for India’s 64th Independence Day)
And when the clock struck twelve midnight,
Fourteenth, august, forty-seven,
An Asian nation turned awake,
While world slept on in slumber deep!
A hundred years of freedom fight
Came to a grinding halt that night,
As Pandit Nehru gave his speech,
‘Tryst with destiny’ with reach!
India awoke to freedom life,
Despite a hundred years of strife,
And took a pledge anew to stay
A nation, free with peace each day!
That moment was so rare indeed;
A nation’s soul was stirred to lead,
And show the world its powerful seed,
As nations totally paid heed.
India’s history thus saw a dawn:
A struggle great ended that morn,
As success finally newborn,
Did Motherland with pride adorn.
With freedom came newer duties;
The failures of the past did cease;
The country was given new lease –
A cure for this strange a disease!
The nation was a sovereign state,
On that magical hour and date;
As leaders vowed to change the fate
Of Indian people’s long a wait.
A star of freedom rose in east,
Heralding celebration, feast;
A hope anew was born that day,
To never cease, oh, come what may!
The star would never set at all –
The Nation’s Father’s clarion call,
The architect of freedom’s hall,
Was Gandhiji (Bapu) , man tall!
He held the torch of freedom high;
Many freedom fighters did die;
And many people heaved a sigh;
As democracy stood too nigh!
‘Jai Hind! Jai Bharat! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 8-06-2010
poem by John Celes
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On Authors, Critics and Readers
Some leave behind a hard-won name
Others only fame
A few the sweat and tears of their passage
Snatched from the rigours of their age
Yet none the folly of the game
Fiction is licensed perjury
The coward's excuse for character
Courage revelation originality veracity
All conspire to make for a writer
All mirrors distort
Reviewers like haïr-dressers retort
And mistake the fall of water for the harp
A mere critic can only carp
If what you see is repugnant
close your ever envious eyes
and you'll even see in darkness
and the reason for your blindness
(© T. Wignesan, Paris - 2006. Pub. in T. Wignesan. Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature and Tamil Culture. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies,2006 & Allahabad: Cyberwit.net,2008.)
poem by T. Wignesan
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Giants
be on your guard when you sit in the open places
because i'm blessed with all the wonders of the sun
when tigers, palmtrees, rattlesnakes unfold their graces
that kind of magic you may get a sunburn from
and there's no better way for us than our old sweet ways
and angels burn to dust before the human race
we're giants under a rainbow
we're stranded east of eden
sometimes we're crying in the afterglow
in a world of broken toys, how can we live without them
freedom that is what you are always screaming
it is a scream but more a nightmare than a laugh
those without faith are liars even when they're dreaming
i'd put my faith in god if he knew how to dance
but there's no devil in the darkness, no demon in the skies
nothing to be afraid of, cross my heart and hope to die
freedom...
freedom...
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Haven
Even white tigers have to bathe
Though they're as white as snow,
That's why an hour they will save
For streams that overflow...
On winsome days, when winds are calm
And sunlight shines above,
White tigers will not hunt or harm
While their hearts beat with love...
The waters let white tigers chill
Like little lambs at play..
A haven here that can instill
A reason to delay...
Life isn't always running round
So frantic in the sun,
Sometimes the simple things astound,
When nothing much gets done.
This was that time, when time relaxed,
When tiny sounds were heard...
When muscles were no longer taxed
And all white tigers purred...
Who knows how long these cats survive?
This century? No more?
Be glad today that they're alive...
For no-one can be sure...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Haven'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Tigernation
Within the land where tigers roam,
Some people spot their stripes
And on their PCs while at home
Perhaps they share their Skypes,
Perhaps they upload photographs,
Or videos they've made,
Beyond their times when they've had laughs
From some new escapade...
Some share their tiger images
Online for all to see!
For zoos and schools and colleges,
For fans like you and me...
And software then comes into play,
Identifying cats,
As they go prowling day-by-day...
Like they're aristocrats!
Thus tigernation's website grows
With images galore,
So many that one hardly knows
How many tigers roar!
The tigerfacts and articles
Are there, so please peruse,
Just pause a while as each enthralls
And share your points of views...
When you find each tiger's profile,
Will you check stripes and stare?
Will tigernation make you smile
At creatures oh so rare?
Will you support the work they do?
Will you support the team?
Will you help tigers, now so few,
Not simply think and dream?
If tigernation stirs your soul
And somehow warms your heart,
Perhaps it's time to take control
And try to do your part...
If tigernation helps you learn,
Please visit now and then...
Such is the tale of their concern,
They'll welcome you again!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
Website:
tigernation-dot-org for news and views,
what you do then, is yours to choose...
poem by Denis Martindale
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For Jane
225 days under grass
and you know more than I.
they have long taken your blood,
you are a dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?
in this room
the hours of love
still make shadows.
when you left
you took almost
everything.
I kneel in the nights
before tigers
that will not let me be.
what you were
will not happen again.
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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