#wilson
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
On the southern border
Of a dilapidated, porous house.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
I used leaves that have decayed
More than the usual
As manure.
I took handfuls of the sand,
That was measured out
For construction of the house,
And spread over its base,
Without any measure.
I diverted the rain,
That was flowing away lazily,
To its base.
******* trembled
As love swelled up within.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
I kissed every leaf,
Without anyone seeing it.
Its veins looked like yours,
When I read them gently.
And when the eyes welled up
I made a ridge under them
With my soiled hands.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
I will nurture it with love.
I will fight with ants and beetles
And even butterflies.
If it ever droops,
I will pamper it with sweet talks
And pet names uttered in its ear.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
I will stand guard to it
In rain and shine.
I will tattoo on my palm
Its green, branches and leaves.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
Tears
Spittle
*****
I will pour out the soul of life
Just for it.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
In nights, when I really lose it,
I will hug it and cry my heart out.
I will shower it with kisses,
Drenched with tears and spittle.
I will lie down on its lap,
When the eleven bells crumble.
And when I feel naughtier
I will close my eyes
Get inside it
And hide in there.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
One day,
It will flower.
And sing aloud, yellow yellow yellow.
The wind, birds and all creepers around
Will take up that song.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
One day.
***
One day
I will open my day
With its sight
And fade away to next life.
It will wait for me
Till the next life.
***
‘ When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.’
A requiem sung at funeral of Christians.
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 10:31 AM UTC
Wrote
Seed
Ten times.
Dug in
Nine of them.
(One
Fell on
The rock.
I saw
You count
Even
Before
The poem
Started.)
I wrote
Water
And poured
On its foot.
I wrote
Organic Manure
And put it
there,
But it
smelt
Furadan.
Leaves
Leaves
Leaves
Leaves
Leaves
Leaves
Leaves
Leaves
Before I
Wrote
Leaves,
I placed
A board
Saying
Don’t Touch Leaves.
Butterflies
Who cannot read
Fluttered
Around
everywhere.
I was
About to write
Flowerflies
Flowerflies
Next.
Butterflies
Got in
Between.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 1:39 AM UTC
At midnight,
After the rains,
I spread my wings
And flew across
The wide road
Without any company
And there,
Was this board.
Sparrow trading
That’s good.
Trading sparrows.
Trading birds.
Birds to be sold.
I decided
To troll
Ravishankar aka Ra Sh
As a translator
And Babu Ramachandran
Aka Alberto Caeiro.
I entered
The Sparrow Factory.
The Bird Market.
Wholesale trading centre of birds
Without ringing the bell.
I did not want to
Wake up
Even a single little sparrow,
So,
I stepped in
Without a sound
Or even a thought.
There was no bird
At the gate
The watchman
A retired soldier
Snored.
I moved on.
There was no one.
Where did those two cat eyes go?
I pushed
The window
Open
Gently
And looked in.
A lad
Fast asleep
Breaking all grammar
In some unknown language.
Brother, brother
I called
Without the birds hearing it.
That
Unknown language
Blinked awake
And walked up to me.
I felt so sad for him.
I asked,
Softly,
Weighed down by guilt.
Birds?
He said.
Birds gone loose.
Birds gone loose?
Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose. Birds gone loose.
Every human being
On this universe
Sang
In many languages.
That
Birds gone loose.
Nothing more to say.
*You too can try these three things. Except going in search of those birds that have gone loose.
Kuzhur Wilson
Translated by Anand Haridas
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 1:04 AM UTC
Sports fans love dichotomies
Brady or Montana?
James or Jordan?
The NHL is aware of this
And possesses two generational players
Alexander Ovechkin and Sydney Crosby
Ovechkin plays for the Washington Capitals
And Crosby plays for the Pittsburgh Penguins
One of the most notable team rivalries in sports
So the NHL asks fans to pick a side for marketing purposes
Ovechkin is sold as strength while Crosby is sold as finesse
Which would be a reasonable way to advertise their league
But like every sports league they are dealing with safety concerns
And the NHL is trying to escape the ignorant assumption
That hockey revolves around brutality and is of a primitive nature
So they don’t want to highlight the sports’ physicality
During this delicate and uncertain time
So more often than not Crosby is favored over Ovechkin
Through officiating, commentating, administrating and marketing
Which implicitly sells Crosby over Ovechkin
To the lowest common denominator
Who are interested in those kind of dichotomies
Since the Capitals are the highest profile team
That plays especially physical
The NHL feels the need to treat them with particular austerity
To show they are serious about safety
But this results in massively inconsistent actions by the league
Tom Wilson is one of the Capitals’ best players and their best checker
He was suspended for 20 games for a slightly late hit
He was in proper checking form
Shoulder down and leading, feet planted on the ice
But made incidental contact with Oskar Sundqvist’s head
Giving Sundqvist a concussion so the NHL suspended Wilson
Meanwhile...
Tom Wilson is attacked from behind by Ryan Reaves
On a very ***** hit that had no athletic function or basis in hockey
Launching himself at the back of Wilson’s head on a cheap shot
Giving Wilson a concussion
Reaves was very proud of himself
Selling autographed pictures of an injured Tom Wilson
And the NHL had nothing to say
Tom Wilson received a 20 game suspension
Losing hundreds of thousands of dollars
For an overzealous check
But when he is maliciously attacked with the intent to injure
There is no suspension handed down
A wise man once said
“An injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere”
And I agree
So I can’t stand seeing someone treated with a blatant bias
If it’s on Capitol Hill or in the Capitals’ stadium
And don’t want to live in a world where that’s acceptable
If I could say something to Tom Wilson
I’d say thank you for handling the situation with grace
And not to pay too much attention
To the biased elite or the mindless masses
Because all they try to do is dip you in molasses
They’re not going to protect you on the ice
That’s something you must do on your own
And there’s a lot of people who’ll try to give themselves importance
By eliminating those of higher value
You just have to be able to take their hits
And hit back harder than they ever could
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
This poem
Allows no entry
For other poets.
Whatever you pontificated
About a jungle with no trespassers
Applies to this poem too.
We were hobnobbing about
A poetry factory that produces
Value added poetry products.
It was then that you started blabbering
“Neruda … Neruda.”
There’s only one way to
Chop Neruda.
Write “Neruda.”
Raise a hack knife and
One chop
Two Cantos.*
Now,
I watch you getting shocked
At the sight of two Nerudas
In two Cantos
And laughter erupts in me.
(Note* With the permission of the author, the translator has tweaked the poem at this point.)
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
We have a family tomb. Elder brother bought it for dad. I renovated it when mom slept for the last time. It is pleasant to go there and stay for a while.
I have never seen dad and mom in bed together. Now, it’s nice to watch them do so. A tranquil feeling.
If I do not die in a distant land I too will sleep in this tomb. Gives me a nice kick to think so. Also a sick feeling that I cannot be there to watch myself.
I picked up a candle and lit it on my tomb. Gathered some flowers from the ground and strew them on it. Stuck incense sticks all around, Knelt down before the dead me.
Then, The familiar ones in the cemetery rose up To ask me when I had come over. Someone from among us got up and left without answering.
Behold, a girl runs along the alley in front of the cemetery.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
Everyone has a story to tell; An-
Xiety is a *"fickle ***** but one that --
Possibly- tell you when something bad might happen.
Each day that goes by
Never stop dreaming, never
Stop saying "you can't,"
Instead say "you can" and make your dreams come true.
Victory can be your's and
Everyone's, you just gotta believe!
Mmhmmm...
"I* became such a strange shape,
Such a strange shape From
Trying to fit it."*
And
Kindness will win all!
Everyone has a story to tell,
So please listen to them. (Just listen.)
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 10:43 AM UTC
I was born with fists clenched
And full of contradiction.
I was born teeth first
And mouth last, which is to say
I knew how to bite back
Long before I knew how to open.
I was born with an umbillical noose
And blue skin.
Sometimes I forget that
There was, in fact, a revival.
I was born into a family
Of magicians.
Maybe thats why
I find comfort in the empty rooms.
I was born there.
Sometimes I think about
The sins I have not yet commited
And can't remember
Anything about Eve in a wedding dress.
Sometimes I think about the sins
I am actively committing
And relive the Leviticus stoning of
my own Mother
when I was seven
And she made my father disappear.
I was born hearing folklore
Of a hare that was too tired
to finish the race.
I was born being the tree that it napped against,
And also the hare
And also the finish line
And also the unfinished line
And never the tortoise.
I was born on Noahs Ark.
I have always been
The 39th night.
Always close to the sun returning in the morning
But never and closer,
Though I have been a rainbow
And I have held concrete.
I have gone swimming in the mud.
I **** the panic with smoke.
I know all three states of god
Because I was born the
god of something.
I was born the God of my body
And that's something
That's never going to change.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
**"MISTAKE
There's nothing wrong in making a mistake.
As long as you don't follow it up with encores.
Keith Wilson. Windermere. UK 2016.;"**
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1559961/mistake
Except - this has been published, already. In 2005 - not 2016. And not by Keith Wilson. See for yourself:
How to Develop a Positive Life
By Bob Mangroo, 2005
Links provided in group: http://hellopoetry.com/collection/19619/plagiarist-problems/
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 1:15 PM UTC
makes it hard for me to breathe,
difficult to see and
impossible to understand this complex mechanism of inside-out
feelings.
I should’ve known by now
that one foot cannot do well without
the other,
that I am merely a one way ticket to
one of Jupiter’s moons,
that one without two
is a stranger to three
and that this will all end one day
in a big blast!
Stranded between Tom Hanks' Wilson
and Aylan’s sandprint,
I won’t be of much use to you;
just like a viral video that you share with your friends,
on a Monday morning and,
then, again, after a couple of months. Funny gas inside
some old abandoned car’s tank.
makes it hard to be serious
about life,
difficult to die and
impossible to commit suicide.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
Nearly half the country
Receives most of its subsistence
From the other half
The public treasury
Has become a public trough
This began under Roosevelt and Wilson
Neither of them experienced participation
In the risk of their own personal wealth
In order to get a return on their investment
One was coddled by academia
The other by his own family
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
I Like Jazz (d)
by Tony J.R. Wilson
Maybe it's been lost
In the hearts and souls
Of the youth,
But jazz has
Lived and will be alive!
Live life, jazz and all!
Live jazz; jazz us all!
I like jazz. Jazz is all!
Lick the spoon of jazz
After scooping jazz
In the hearts and the souls
Of the youthful soul!
Love that jazz as your own!
Like that jazz and just get grown!
Listen to the jazz that's played!
Listen to the notes not played!
Listen to and understand that jazz!
+++++++++++
Yeah, it's not the thing
You hear
When
Looking for an easy swing,
But
Look into your heart and find that jazz!
Lead into your soul and
See that jazz alive
With burning fire!
Jazz is sweet and burns
With flames of fire from the soul!
Let it go and let jazz in
From head to toe!
Let life jazz and let go!
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
Let Them Know You Love Them (d)
by Tony J.R. Wilson
Love can bring these:
A lasting joy,
And last of all,
The light of life.
One can sigh and wait
For just one lasting face
That looks into their eyes and says
The things that make them know
Who they are and what they need.
This is what one needs:
A lasting face,
And most of all,
The love of life.
It's not enough of
What is love that's
Put in one's mind:
The thing that takes
Away from what is true love
Is the sacrifice.
A sacrifice is what makes love:
When one may leave the other
In the ground, but takes the time
To dig the other out,
Love is made.
I can't live without
The knowledge that
I've said something
That you've heard:
Take some time
To think about
The things I've said.
I want for there
To be an everlasting
Lesson here that makes
The ones you know and love
Let you know they love you.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC