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MY POEM PART FOUR
Poem Title: Paris (0)
Poem:
Coffee in British Doulton
Along mersmerising
Autumn romantic Paris'
Leave-bathed orange
Neon-lit boulevard
The cool air from north
Relaxing my stressed heart
Designer coffee from Kilimanjaro
Bitterly nice to the
Tastebuds with Dutch milk
My favourite mind
Refreshing adventure
Especially wonderful
With the colourful
Array of fashionable
Outfits parading the streets,
An eyeopening outrageous catwalk
In the open, each well-executed
Physical movement striking
Retinal nerves, so exact as
To accentuate the style of
Each attire and bag carried
And of course the
World renowned French perfumes,
Swirling in the maze of activities
That are undeniably Paris,
The place that carves out
Art for all our senses.
Poem Title: New School Year (0)
Poem:
You stood by the school gate
Tall, handsome and atheltic,
Surrounded by vermillion red
Dainty hibiscus and helping
New eager students with their
Loaded bags, all ready for
The new school year.
You too had put on a new
Demeanor, more mature
And refreshed after the
Long term holidays.
Me emotionally drained
And feeling gratified
To be able to see you
At the gate itself
On this first day of school
After so many sleepless
Nights;
A return to a paradise
Of Knowledge, caring
Friends and a secret love;
My senior school years
When the days were anxiously marked
By your presence and absence.
The holidays, a torture.
Poem Title: Irish brothers (0)
Poem:
My secondary school years
Marked by a few Irish brothers
Who flew half the world
To Borneo to bring a new
Flock to modern knowledge
And Roman Catholicism.
My only knowledge about
Ireland then limited to
The potato famine, IRA,
President Kennedy and
Only until recently invaded
By the Craneberries and
A realisation of the
Significant role the Irish
Brothers have played in
My life.
The Irish brothers, an
Enterprising lot imbued
With a sincere enthusiasm
To bring goodness to the
New World;
The British, the colonisers
The Irish, the mind builders.
Home they had gone but
In our hearts they live on;
their canes, nags, prayers, inspiration and all....
Your gentle demeanor,
Caring and soft
Spoken, exudes a warmth
So irresistible -
A full moon
That always pull
On the tide;
A surge in yearnings
That rises in the
Dark nights when
Sensuous images of
You run sharpest;
Your youthful
Musculine frame
And striking smile
Fanning the embers
In a young thing, stoking
A wild flame that
Blazes through
Many sleepless nights.
Poem Title: Mist (0)
Poem:
Surrealism
At work,
Inspiring myriad
Artists with their shades;
Misty morn,
Vapours descending
Everywhere,
Punctuated by
Droplets on
Leaves,
Satiny collections
Of a divine provision
From above for
Those lost souls
Who yearn for
Things simple
Such as this
To crown
Their poetic heart
With a song
Poem Title: SHOE AT ROADSIDE (0)
Poem:
A miscarriage; a little red shoe at roadside;
Keen for action, bidding for attention.
A little shoe that sure has lots of adventures
To tell of its young master;
Of visitations to the supermarket
With daddy when I got lost among
The toys department Tarzan collections,
Of refreshing exercises
In the school grass field
In the first light of morn,
Of trips to the movie when I had
Hugged daddy tight when a horror
Face had appeared,
Of the chase in the park for
The fun of scarrying away the birds.
Tears trickle down my cheeks brought
On by a lost child; the same shoe size!
Tom Cruise for Dorian Gray (0)
Poem:
Dorian Gray...if someone would
Just attempt that movie on
Oscar Wilde's dreamed man
Dorian Gray, the imaginary
Dashing art-inclined lad
With the robust and
Pristine look that
Rocked the art circle
In lovable carefree London
A flamboyant passionate lad
That reminds me of the
Ever youthful Tom Cruise
Who got the world dazed
With his toothy grin
Handsome frame and
A springy bodice
That inspire the wildest
Dream of every lass
Poem Title: Predictions (0)
Poem:
I am Caesar's soothsayer reborn
To tell of fortunes and calamities
Of the famous and powerful
Of countries big and small
Of royalties, of moguls and dynasties
O Lord, what a sensitive woman I am
I am still reeling from Caesar's
Assassination after so many reincarnations
My handsome well built Caesar
If only he had heeded my
Beware the Ides of March warning
He would be Emperor of the Roman Empire
O Lord, how unkind Brutus' cut was
The dagger nearly cracked as it hit your bone
All those scoundrels and their hidden greed
They were your most dishonourable friends
O, I really wish to forget about this sad episode
If only you had taken my Beware-of-the-Ides-of-March warning
Now let me shower the world with more of my predictions
First of course of Poetry-today.com itself
It will grow by leaps and bounds
The next few years having caught the eyes of
Some famous personalities
The world of poetry will flourish
In every land
Then of the reign of terror
That grips the world today
They will lie low these two years
But will wreak havoc in 2005
On the world so that
Millions will suffer
The Yankees are not going
To war with Iraq
It is just a play of rhetorics
By the time they really take up arms
Saddam would have gone over
To the other side
A country in Africa would emerge
To become a model for the developing world
With plenty of God's blessings
For the first time to boost
The pride of the blacks
The British Royalty would become
Such a bore to the British public
That by 2009, they would be
As quiet as a graveyard
China seems to be on the road
To the top of the world
But if only it can see the
Briars and thorns that
It has to traverse the
Next 30 years
Aliens have discovered us
But have left us all alone
Because we are so much less interesting
Than their other space findings
O Lord, I am revealing too much
Please forgive me I must really get going
And say bye bye to you all
Just remember that my magic
Potion in the cauldron
Boiling with snake's fangs, fish scales
Scorpion's stings, spider's legs,
Owl's eyes, lizard's skins,
Legs of toads and newts
Should be ready for all my worthy clients
Oh I must also buy milk
for my cat, dog and parrot
And little fishes for my tortoise
And a new cloth to wipe my
Giant crystal ball
And Christmas presents for my little
Boys and girls
Guys and gals predictions as they are
Some will come true, others not
Because Our Lord sometimes
Changes his plans like when
He decided long after his
Six professed days of creation
To form Eve, One of the most unwise moves I think,
Otherwise, Adam can still be seen in Eden
Please do come back for more predictions
The next Christmas season
God willing I'll still be around
To entertain you, Merry Christmas
Poem Title: Christmas cheers (0)
Poem:
The bright red gleaming mistletoes
They bring out a warm passion
From my heart to spruce up the Christmas tree
With angel's hair, glittering balls,
Mini-red bearded santa clauses,
Reindeer, sledges, little boys, girls
Snowdust, twinkling lights and
A big glittering star
Right on its top and colourful boxes
With mysterious gifts for
Dear brothers and sisters right at its foot
They brought back memories of late
Father when we had fun shopping for these
Items and shared the joy of making
The best looking Christmas tree in his nightclub
Where the white men frequented
During the Beatle years
The ladened Christmas tree is a symbol of our Lord
Festooned with graces for men and women
Who would open their hearts to him and his words
Which glitter like the Christmas tree
Brightening up the lives of lost souls
Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
A thousand sweet memories installed
For the joy of our Lord
For the joy of families throughout the world
Now and forever
Whether it's white or not
In our heart it always will be
A little child in a manger
Accompanied by a bright star in the North
And three wise men from the East
Poem Title: Song of the Waves (2)
Poem:
the wind beats against me,
the wave garners a strength
lifts itself, roars, rolls over
crushing over the beach.
we too did the same;
so much joy then.
the sea reminds
me of a time
when our hearts beat as one,
when our dream was the same.
but like the waves
they break as soon
as they hit land
and subside
to a sigh of despair
bubbles, suds that
soon burst into nothingness.
The only substance that reminds
me of my existence now are my tears
the relentless wind fails to dry.
Poem Title: song for daddy (6)
Poem:
those little needles on cheeks;
your kisses, daddy, are a fond memory
i always turn to for solace.
i love your moustache; they make you
so distinctive.
and your pipe, it makes you so much
like my intellectual hero, Albert Einstein.
i am always fasincated
by the smoke swirling into the air as you
write through the night.
always fascinated why they always disappeared
into nothingness when I was a child.
As i grew older, it has jolted me to realise
that one day we too will
follow the transient smoke;
disappear into the silence
of the night, into another realm.
I am grateful that with each
growing year, my love for you have
grown deeper, thickened like smoke
Poem Title: Song of the River (2)
Poem:
after the rain,
the swollen river
so much to pamper
the ears and sights.
the fishes splash,
the river gushes,
the cold breeze
blowing against
the willows
bringing
an endearing
rustling sound.
a breakaway waterlily
sits on a slide
to a new habitat,
an empty corked
plastic bottle floats down hastily
an effortless ballet dancer,
and then a patch of watercresses
all swarming along like treasures
some splitting away
stucked amid branches, mud and sand.
nearby, a group of boys
in jovial mood
try their luck
with their hooks
sharing jokes about
which will be the lucky hook
to get the first fish
and who will eat the unlucky fish;
the wind ruffles
their lovely hair
Poem Title: Left Handed (4)
Poem:
Left Handed, it is never fun, sister laments, her handwriting slanting left;
she scrawls rather than writes.
and mom always appears worried
when she opens a can,
she seems to be going the wrong way
which could result in a slip
cutting herself.
now that sister has a daughter
like herself, she is grateful that she has
a companion in life and
feels glad she could help daugther along with her own left hand.
for aunty, it was constant beating
from grandad who thought it "no manners"
to employ the left hand on tables;
the hand clashed with the right hand of elders.
the rule only aggravated auntie's tears
as her right hand never cooperated
with her spoon.
the other day, mom started counting
the number of her left-handed grandchildren
and they number a handful.
it runs in the family, she laughed.
