Memories of False Bay!
On a more remote hour_
Far away from my native home,
The moon and the stars for me do shine;
In the blackberry brambles, crickets chant
Just as they did in the village.
The seagulls l hear in the back of my mind;
The lovely sandy beach of False Bay l envision;
The sound of mbira still chime in my head
And so does the mourning wild wind!
And the angry waves would come crushing against the shores!
O, Zame! Let these for me abide
Till l go back to my native roots...!
poem by Tafadzwa Matamba
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Travails Of Survival
his skin exudes
the native perfumes
his heart is filled with
native tunes
from village to
town to metro
did he migrate
always drawing the
scents and tunes
for his sustenance
stranger he is in the metro
breathes his lungful once
amidst the familiar environs
moving under the known skyscape
a nowhere man in the metro
he is himself back at the village
survival calls him
survival displaces him
this nowhere man is
found everywhere
he goes about spraying
the native perfumes
he moves about
his heart humming the tunes...
15jun2010
14.47hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Blackberry Way
Blackberry way absolutely pouring down with rain,
Its a terrible day.
Up with the lark, silly girl I dont know what to say,
She was running away.
But now Im standing on the corner,
Lost in the things that I said.
What am I supposed to do now?
Goodbye blackberry way
I cant see you, I dont need you.
Goodbye blackberry way
Sure to want me back another day.
Flowers in the park overgrowing but the trees are bare
Theres a memory there.
Boats on the lake, unattended now for all to drown
Im incredibly down.
Just like myself they are neglected,
Turn with my eyes to the wall
What am I supposed to do now?
Goodbye blackberry way
I cant see you, I dont need you.
Goodbye blackberry way
Sure to want me back another day.
Run for the train, look behind you for she may be there
Said a thing in the air
Blackberry way, see the battlefield of careless sins
Cast to the winds
So full of emptiness without her,
Lost in the words that I said.
What am I supposed to do now?
Goodbye blackberry way
I cant see you, I dont need you.
Goodbye blackberry way
Sure to want me back another day.
Goodbye blackberry way
I cant see you, I dont need you.
Goodbye blackberry way
Sure to want me back another day.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red With Native Blood
Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
We have soiled it so, with our hands,
red with native blood.
The earth was stained, when we first came,
red with native blood.
We stole their domain, with a barbaric claim:
that we were civilised and they were not,
that they were the savages and we were not,
when we ravaged the land that began to clot,
red with native blood.
Not content with genocide
we interned them in reserves.
To break their culture
and tribal ways;
in stealing children
the state was brave,
to turn their women
into household slaves,
and hope their men would die,
unmourned, in lonely graves;
a problem to us no more.
Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
Acknowledge their just demands,
wash the stains from our hands,
give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Blackberry Wine
Theres a south wind risin and the moon shines on my window sill
Ive got a feeling I might walk on over the hill
Im bent but not broken, all I need is some rest
And a bottle of your very best
Blackberry wine
Theres a new moon risin and the wind sings its old song
Pass it on over its a sin to be sober too long
Im bent but not broken, all I need is my share
Of a bottle of that very rare
Blackberry wine
My old gals got a new dress on five and dime
Try as she will she cant get me to come home on time
But Id never cheat her or mistreat her you know
As over the mountain I go
Blackberry wine
Ill be soft spoken
All I need is my rest
And a bottle of your very best
Blackberry wine
Now my days are numbered and one more heels been killed
Blackberry john left me his old recipe in his will
Im bent but not broken, all I need is some time
And a bottle of your very fine
Blackberry wine
Blackberry wine,
You know that Im quite dry without you
Blackberry wine
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Moonlit Walk
I walk along the wet beach,
watching the waves twist and die
the moon shines brightly in the star- studded sky
I walk upon the wet sand, my footprints trail behind
I make a mark wherever I step while the moon shines
I walk upon the silver sand, I stride through the diamond waves,
I get hold of the twinkling stars,
but forget to look back on my way
suddenly a cloud hides the moon
and I loose all my stars.
I look back on to the silver sand to find none of my marks
poem by Sadaf Khan
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Havana Moon
Chant...
Me all alone
Jug of rum
Me stand and wait for the boat to come
Is lonely night is quiet the dark
The boat she late its 12 o clock
Me watches the tide easin in
Is low the moon and high the wind
Havana moon
Havana moon
Me all alone
Me open the rum
Is long the wait for the boat to come
American girl come back to me
Sail way across the sea
We dock in new york the buildings high
We find a home up in the sky
Havana moon...
Havana moon...
Me still alone me drinkin the rum
Begin to think that the boat no come
American girl she tell a lie
She say till then, but she mean goodbye
Havana moon...
Havana moon...
Me lay down alone, no good the rum
Me fall asleep and the boat she come
The girl she look till come the dawn
She weep and she cry
Return for home
The whistle blow me open my eyes
Bright the sun blue the sky
Me grab me shoes, me jump and me run
Me see the boat head for horizon
Havana moon is gone da rum
The boat she sail me love she gone
Havana moon...
Havana moon...
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Town
Of all the stupid things I could have thought
This was the worst
I started to believe
That I was born at seventeen
And all the stupid things
The letters and the broken verse
Stayed hidden at the bottom of the drawer
Theyd always been
And now I plough through piles
Of bills, receipts and credit cards
And tickets and the daily news
And sometimes I just . . .
Wanna go back to my home town
Though I know itll never be the same
Back to my home town
cause its been so long
And Im wondering if its still there
We think were pretty smart
Us city slickers get around
And when the goings rough
We kill the pain and relocate
Were never married
Never faithful not to any town
But we never leave the past behind
We just accumulate
So sometimes when the music stops
I seem to hear a distant sound
Of waves and seagulls
Football crowds and church bells
And I . . .
Wanna go back to my home town
Though I know itll never be the same
Back to my home town
cause its been so long
And Im wondering if its still there
Back to my home town
Though I know itll never be the same
Back to my home town
cause its been so long
And Im wondering if its still there
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whatever Happens, Move On, Pursue That End
when we begin we already know what distance is
we see it in the stars we hear it from the Siberian winds
we were telling the trees that our beginning was the smile of the snails
that the moss have always been faithful to the stones
at the middle we learned the games of the waves and the seagulls
there is always the happy chase between respect and dignity
like the moon how it sits on the black horizon how it lightens the silence
you want to know the intimacy of the wind and the cliff
how they have become almost the same in sonorous sounds
sometimes you sense the semblance of surrender
not wanting to go on and be the roots of the trees and the grass
i have touched the tips of your hair, though short, but that is enough
my wings have fully grown and the winds are waiting
i am destined for something else beyond the touch of your hands
i do not know how my story shall end, but the voices are assuring
whatever happens, tell me, for once, that you too shall find yourself
do not turn back, pursue the end without the trembling, the remorse of pain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Louie Louie, Go Home
Well i, well I left my wife and child (louie, go back home)
Yeah, my conscience is about to drive me wild, yeah (louie, go back home)
A little voice inside of my head goes on and on (louie, go back home)
It says louie, louie, louie
You better come back home
Well i, well I thought I make it by myself, yeah (louie, go back home)
Oh, but my baby, shes got my heart a-upon the shelve (louie, go back home)
Oh well i, well I can still hear her moan (louie, go back home)
Theyre crying louie, louie, louie
You better go back home
You better go back home, yeah
You better go back home, yeah
You better go back home
Oh yeah, you better go back home
You better go back aho aho ahome, ahome yeah yeah
Home ahome ahome
Just to go back ahome ahome ahome
Driving home, yeah, home
Just a little bit louder now (just a little bit louder)
Just a little bit louder now (just a little bit louder)
Just a little bit louder (just a little bit louder)
Well, Im going home (just a little bit louder)
Well, Im going home, yeah
Ooh, Im going back, back, back, back, back, to my home
Yeah home
Home sweet home
Im going back home, ooh
Im going home, yeah
Im going home, yeah
Im going home, yeah
Im going home, yeah
Back to my baby
Back to where they need me
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Recollections of Our Native Valley
Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?
Whose gentle flood,
By cliff and wood,
With wildering sound goes winding ever.
Oh! often yet with feeling strong,
On that dear stream my mem'ry ponders,
And still I prize its murm'ring song,
For by my childhood's home it wanders.
Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?
Whose gentle flood,
By cliff and wood,
There's music in each wind that blows
Within our native valley breathing;
There's beauty in each flower that grows
Around our native woodlands wreathing.
The memory of our brightest joys
Is dearer than the richest toys,
The present vainly shed around us.
Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?
Whose gentle flood,
By cliff and wood,
Oh, sister! when 'mid doubts and fears,
That haunt life's onward journey ever,
I turn to those departed years,
And that beloved and lovely river;
With sinking mind and bosom riven,
And heart with lonely anguish aching,
It needs my long-taught hope in heaven,
To keep that weary heart from breaking.
Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?
Whose gentle flood,
By cliff and wood.
poem by Gerald Griffin
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Dancing on the sea
Exotic sounds
Staring as if hypnotized.
The moon savouring enchanted, those movements
almost stationary The sound of the sea,
His light footsteps, move across the floor
as his eyes distracted,
confident, almost cocky
as his drawn by an hand, on his hips and head,
A symmetrical dance, which mingled the waves sound
almost dancing with them.
The quiet beach, sandy was coloured gold,
under the moon watching.
She approached 'him with the harmony,
of the wave's movements
Reflecting him like almost dancing on the sea.
poem by Luca Menin
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From Worlds Within My Dreams
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
Land.
And brethren of spoken tongues.
Those of my ancestors,
Every one.
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
Home I've come to know.
I feel the wind coming to sweep,
And stir the prairies.
I see the tumbleweed roll.
And swirls of dust enfold it!
I feel the rhythm with each drum beat.
I paint those symbols I see,
From skies above.
And when they land,
We beings meet.
We greet as if lost souls.
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
From worlds within my dreams you've come.
To me and others who have not succumbed...
With misgivings of a tortured faith.
Never in doubt but sometimes clouded!
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
Land.
And brethren of spoken tongues.
Those of my ancestors,
Every one.
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
Home I've come to know,
From worlds within my dreams.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Certain Form Of Autism
rain man
sun woman goddess
moon
stars night skies
crickets and yellow rivers
stones and sand
clocks and pearls
wind sons and chime daughters
all fools
in harmony.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Midnight
From where I sit, I see the stars,
And down the chilly floor
The moon between the frozen bars
Is glimmering dim and hoar.
Without in many a peakèd mound
The glinting snowdrifts lie;
There is no voice or living sound;
The embers slowly die.
Yet some wild thing is in mine ear;
I hold my breath and hark;
Out of the depth I seem to hear
A crying in the dark;
No sound of man or wife or child,
No sound of beast that groans,
Or of the wind that whistles wild,
Or of the tree that moans:
I know not what it is I hear;
I bend my head and hark:
I cannot drive it from mine ear,
That crying in the dark.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Long to See Home
I sit here and listen
to each story told
and hear of tropical island breeze
that make the palm trees
sway in its wake
and white beachs glemming
Where the waves
lap against its shores
I long to see
were I can place my hand
and run sand in my hand
seeing the deep blue lagoons
that hide the oceans life
Taste the fruits
that are abundance galore
to see the colours of rainbows
of flowers that spread
across its shores
I sit and sigh
and think will I see
those wonderful sites
Will I see the beauty
of the home were
my parents use to roam
as children of old
and hear the legends
being told by the camp fire site
Will I ever get to see
the moon shine its light
by the beautiful shores
of my parents home
Will I ever see their home
I sigh with a dreamy eye
thinking one day I just might
poem by Kaila George
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A Secret Of Nature! (Truth Hurts)
here comes the moon,
cheating with the stars when the sun is not arround,
however, it is a marriage that was never atall meant to be,
because the sun comes back home everymorning,
only to find that the moon is nowhere to be found,
the sun being the victim of hurt pain and resentment,
because everytime it comes back from a late shift,
expecting the dearly wife (The Moon)
to welcome him home with warmth and love, because alone the sun cannot create warmth for itself,
but reality is
the sun loves the monn!
the moon loves the stars,
and the stars are known to be the third party,
that which will always remain in the sun's heart (The Moon)
shall never be viewed by his eyes,
and for the love of the moon
it hurts!
the poor sun keeps coming back home,
hoping that the moon had come back,
but me, you, and i know exactly that reality is the truth that hurts,
because the sun will never see the moon again,
because he has never seen him before
he was never loved from the start
henceforth the resentment
poem by Anele ''The African Son'' kaPotelwa
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Let It Shine
Theres a light on over my head, my lord
Theres a light on over my head, my lord
Let it shine, let it shine
Although it may not be the only one
Let it shine, shine, shine
Although it may not be the only one.
Theres a moon roof over my head, my lord
And my lincoln is still the best thing built by ford
Let it roll, let it roll
Although it may not be the only one
Let me ride, ride, ride, ride,
Although I may not be the only one.
I got religion in the airport, my lord
They caught me waiting on my baggage when I was bored
Let them chant, let them chant
Although they may not be the only one
Let them dance, dance, dance
Although they may not be the only one.
Theres a light on over my head, my lord
Theres a light on over my head, let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine
Although it may not be the only one
Let me shine, shine, shine, shine
Although I may not be the only one.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Return to Monterey
Twenty-two ticks gone by
Wondering till this year why
I would come back to nothingness
A joy to visit none the less
The sandy beach where I once called
Home
Just a simple release
From the military madness
They tore down my base
Where I was training for a war
Walking for peace
Seemed such a waste
There's a college now there
What is to be learned?
Where will the next brain come from?
Should I care?
Just a beach I called
Home
Where I did run free
Just for a brief moment in time
In my boyish
History
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Evening In Paradise
Evening in the village it is about nine o'clock nothing on TV except
men in nice suits and cuff links talking about the economy, they all
are experts yet disagree about everything banging hands on table,
getting red faced and angry, so I switched off. A motorbike is making
its unsteady progress through the village, Joao home from the bar,
dogs don't bark, know the sound it is only when he is trying to get
off and fall they bark a little, angry voices, and then utter stillness.
I stroll through the village only street every window is shuttered not
letting out light it is like they think they have to pay extra if it does.
I walk down to the main road and hope anything would come to pass
enveloped as I'm by tediousness. A car drives past I spend minutes,
wondering where it is going. Back home I switch the TV back on,
a drone attack an important terrorist has been killed, as have eleven
other mostly children, collateral damage, but we fight a global war.
I wished for and found my Paradise on earth and it is bloody boring.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Down to the beach
Down to the beach
Down to the beach
On a sunny day we go
Beach bags packed with sun screen lotions
Hands rubbing people’s backs in slow motion
Glistening oily bodies radiating with sensation
Down to the beach
Down to the beach
Where a chilly sea breeze blows
Let’s have some fun
In the red-hot sun
Down to the beach
Only there the ladies reveal saucy behinds
Whenever the raging sun is still kind
Down to the beach
As never-ceasing waves play across the shores
People happily play dreading any rainy downpour
Down to the beach
Where young lovers closely nestle
As sand creatures cause the sand to bristle
Seagulls gliding in the air with screams and whistles
Kids picking up shells and building stormy sand castles
Down to the beach
Where mostly good vibes flow
Down to the beach
We go whilst there is still sun without snow
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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