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So many years since the mirror showed the fairest of them all.
Long since the face, a friend once was, I do by memory now recall.
Who was this face, this man... this once was just a mere boy?
I knew him well so long ago in a world once knowing tastes of joy.

We walked in light and sun and no shadow harboured fears.
But that face no longer greeted me as the shadows grew by years.
I shared his hopes, his dreams and passions on so many sunlit day.
So long since did things yet fade and so too his image went its way.

So long since and yet I still recall him as if from some other life.
Slaughtered dream and hope and passion long dead upon fates knife.
How long since he and I were one, I cannot quite recall.
But perhaps that face I saw reflected was never there at all?

So many years ago... a lifetime so it seems...
When once my own reflection and I...
Shared a world inspired by hope and the same dreams.

A face, a man, a boy I thought I would always know,
So long since and too many years ago
Was I ever really how I saw myself?
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­This poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled " अपराधबोध" published in pratilipi (Feb. 2019)
Can be read through the link ==>> https://bit.ly/2l4MIXz
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Today all of Sudden, I do remember again
The time that has elapsed since long
The bygone lovely childhood
The yesterday that has passed
The good old childhood friends.
I do remember some blurred faces
whose names, I couldn't recall

I do remember my teachers
Still in the same look and form
I remember their scolding
I remember happiness on their faces
I even remember their angry faces
Their orders to stand up on the bench
Their punishment to pose as a rooster

I do remember now
The essence of their teachings
I followed all their teachings
But I had to suffer a lot
So, I packed them all tied them in a knot
And thrown them all into the trash can.

This is not an allegation against my teachers
That their teachings are not valuable
But, I discovered, I was not capable
To follow their valuable teachings.
In this modern era of practicality
There is no respect for human values
Human values have been deteriorated
Due to changing definitions of the words
The whole dictionary has changed.

I admit I have committed crime against my teachers
Since I left the righteous path shown by them
And followed another easy path on my own
But what else could I have done?
I had no power to change the present era -
I alone do not have the courage to be an era-rebel
So, I gave up the right path and followed another one

But may be, inspite of this  
my teacher may forgive me
But can I forgive myself?
No! Not at alI, I don't have this right
After getting pardon from my teacher
The gravity of my crime doesn't decreases

So by the way if my teachers pardon me
Even then, I can't be free
From the guilt
I must have to live
Bit by bit, Suffocatingly
This will be my punishment
Yes, this will be my punishment.


Sometime or the other, Everybody feels guilty. Do You????
Perdue Poems Sep 6
Wallowing Wisdom stood widowed
with none to carry her bags across the busied road
heavy were Wisdom's bags, and wide was the street
who would want to carry widowed Wisdom's load
For Wisdom was old and Wisdom was slow
who would help the widow
Many ran by Wisdom not noticing her bags
their eyes were sharply focused on the sidewalk ahead
some passed Wisdom by without a second glance
others stared in pity but left for better circumstance
a few did stop to heave Wisdom's bags
only to feel their suffering arms dropped them in the road

In certain happenstance, there appeared another woman divine
who's eyes shined, her beautiful smile wide
many clamored to her side
pondering the name of radiant light
"Happiness" said she, many approved
a fitting name for a fitted love
the throng extended down the road
helping with her bags
how light were they!
Hearts yearned for Happiness
adored around the world
for she was ever-lovely
emptied pockets paid
what a wonderful commodity
The Happiness Company
Inc.

Widowed Wisdom stood alone with heavy bags in hands of old
on she walked on her own and dragged her bags of gold
Wallowing widowed Wisdom wept and cried in anguish
her screams ripping through the streets
in the middle of the road, she fell to her knees
wishing she may have her company
but too many forget
too many ignore
wailing Wisdom
on the road's floor
Paul Butters Aug 2
Running the gauntlet down Midchester Road,
A veritable suburb of Gleethorpes City,
You pass a line of house-castles
Of the well to do.

But don’t be fooled
By what you see,
For I know someone
Who lives there.

And he will tell you,
Of bountiful gardens
Stripped bare
And concreted over
So that families can park their fleets
Of expensive cars.

See those conservatory extensions
And widened pavements.
A lady poses,
Doing her best
To emulate the Kardashians.

Money attracts
No end of thugs
And dodgy dealers:
Swarming parasitic wasps
Around the honey ***.

Nights of drunken revellers
From the local pub:
Swaying from trees
And kicking cans about.
Boy racers tearing down the road,
Music systems booming
With a mindless
Moronic drumming.

“Where has reality gone?” asks
My despairing friend.
They have their money
Their riches,
Expensive toys
But few of them are Happy.

What happened to “Goodness” and virtue
And dreams of Utopia?
Where are the heroes
Inventors and creators?
Instead we have a world of celebrity,
In which true talent – even genius
Is ignored and undervalued.

“Where are we going?” my friend exclaims.
Things get worse and worse,
The world all in reverse.
For it’s “Unreal City”,
Far from pretty.

So have a think,
Don’t let yourself sink
Even further into the mire.
Just get real,
You know the deal,
It’s you I’m trying to inspire.

Paul Butters

© PB 2\8\2019

(with help from a bloke who lives in such a place. Same town as me).
Open, honest and raw methinks.
Caroline Jul 24
How many long years did I spend with you,
Lakota Oyate?
Though Wasicu skinned, wearing the paleness of imperial greed,
The reverberant beating of ceremonial drums
Caused my heart to bleed
Rivers of blood,
Tears that I shed,
Soaking the sagebrush and sorrow-laden plains
Inside the hollows of my bones.

Tiyospaye, you are always.

Pilamaya, always and forever.

Mitakuye Oyasin.

Lakota Oyate, you raised me,
A rootless, tender-hearted girl,
Kicking up the dust on some
Empty reservation road.

Lost, but found
In your kindness.

Tiwahe, when I had none.

I filled my plate at your tables, Wojapi and thickened breads,
The laughter of the wild-hearted children
Ringing through the stars like the songs of rainbow-chested prairie birds.

Little takojas, how you grasped my hands and claimed me.
How clearly I can hear them calling, “auntie, auntie, come play!”

And so, the people of the river, below the plains of Standing Rock,
I love you, thechihila,
Forever.

My little children will forever walk in kindness and humility
Because of the values you raised in them;
Because you drew them in as if they were your own blood,
Because you sewed vibrant ribbons on their shirts
As if they belonged in their humanness,
In their innocence,
To your great nation.

Lakota Oyate, I can never repay you for the way your heartbeat

Saved me.

Prayed for me.

Pilamaya Wopila,
Always and forever.
Fifteen years on a reservation in South Dakota. I will never forget. The people raised and healed me in so many ways. In so many ways, it is home.

Wasicu - White Man
Oyate - Nation
Tiyospaye - Family/Clan
Pilamaya - Thank you
Tiwahe - Family
Wojapi - Berry soup
Takoja - Grandchild
Thechihila - I love you.
Chicken Jul 14
I didn’t care who you were
The point was that you lied

Though I do now understand
The reason you had to hide

I might
have been
a bit
more polite

The point was that you lied
The one thing on my mind
When it comes to friends
Accomplices
Comrades

I’m sorry it didn’t work out.
James LR May 13
Brick upon uneven brick,
We built our standards high.
The stones we laid, morality,
Are slowly stripped away
By brick uneven brick.
Morality's demise.
it’s the unwillingness to      (stop)
start
imitations                           (one-way)
of genuine
conversations                  (relationships)
We talk about change,
    but expect others to do it.
We talk about fake news,
   but keep reading it.
We talk about democracy,
   but don't listen to the people.
We talk about lies,
   but keep believing them.
We talk about tolerance,
   but suppress opinions.
We talk about human rights,
   but torture and ****.
We talk about privacy,
   but eavesdrop on all communication.  
We talk about freedom,
   but fight endless wars.
We talk about hypocrisy,
   but are the biggest hypocrites.
We talk about so many things,
   but not what really matters.

Stop talking,
   start acting!

Maybe.
Next time you are upset about something, look into the mirror.
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