"harmonium" poems
Yours is not a caged minor bird
That has forgotten how to fly
Who has not wings to unfurl
Or a voice to sing harks of warm air
Even on winter mornings
Glide the up-draft and all it’s edges
Where you said you’d fallen from
And where I could see my footprints
Lost in the distance
Far below
I have no fear of falling.
Dive bomb the rocks below
or take faith in the air beneath -
Flap and talk of leaving someday
Ready a perch in wanton relief
and take what you’re given
I am not a bird
I have forgotten how to sing sweetly
Others make noise
Blissfully unawares
of the harmonium which awaits
As a sound or a note overheard,
captured on the ear.
Without knowing the scale
Or the instrument
But the sounds or an urban minor bird
You are in essence
as effortless
as air Itself
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:15 AM UTC
Exuberant he is!
That’s a Yogi with character!
Smiling, treat wallah.
Pyramid quartz.
Dangling sparkles.
Sunlight reflects
His teeth softly open to the world.
Taste buds willing
Simple yet refined
Yogi Yum Yums
Spreading the thunderous joy
Of pure delight!
He gives permission to say “GOD”
He sits.
When no one is around
In the hall where Shiva dances to his music.
Pulsing the instrument
Harmonium glimmering with song.
Goggles on, ready and shimmering
He booms a great confidence,
The resounding sound:
SHRI RAM
JAYA RAM
JAYA JAYA RAM
SHRI RAM
JAYA RAM
JAYA JAYA RAM!
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
What on Earth
took you? Do we dare land?
A lark of descension. An aborted beginning.
Moon trills.
Captain is dead
at the controls.
Mother gives birth in the airlock.
Trouble in the passageways.
A struggle to name it.
A drink before eclipse.
All that's wrong with the world
sounds like harmonium in the (wishing) well.
First flight over Hölderlin's Archipelago,
creating new and stranger versions
in the sandclouds.
So this is
Tharsis Rise?
Life without a trace.
Non-terrestrial Martian field.
Halcyon flowering seas. A rock with no trees,
no urban hopes.
Yet, the whole universe inside
wants to be touched.
I love you in zero gravity,
pushing tender buttons.
*** as solution.
Moon trills.
A kiss of atmosphere.
This alien womb.
Those android embargoes.
Our children are born echoes of astronauts.
Lunar schedules
their first words.
There's a lightspeed sensibility
to this type of marriage and parenting:
no leaving the hub,
no exit procedure.
The Sol they sing
is a harm hymn,
moon trills,
subject to the ladder and the weight of breath
this outside Earth.
But I love you in the veil of a twilight moon.
We're monuments
burned into moments.
Moments without a beyond.
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 6:36 PM UTC
The rain falls softly on the sleeping city…. Cloaked in the blanket of a monsoon lull…. A few stray dogs scamper for shelter as the first storm of the season colours the dawn a deeper crimson…..
The thunder rumbles from the north east…a deep slow sonorous sound coming from the underbellies of the moisture laden atmosphere…..
The soft drizzle forms a hazy blanket of morning mist around the city…..already stirring with the first signs of life…. The resurrection of the everyday work-a-day world…….
The musical tinkling of a bell echoes around as a pushcart brimming with flowers rushes down the street, hurrying to the market…fresh, preened and ready…to be sold to the highest bidder…
The soft music of the approaching storm inspires a boatman, out on the holy river, to sing…… his voice echoes over the bass of the thunder……a plaintive pleasant humming……the nuances of the bhatiali fill up the empty cracks in the morning……
The rain deepens…………the drizzle expands into the monsoons first downpour… pitter-patter sings the rain, reverberating off a thousand tin roofs……the sky darkens……enveloping the dawn in its grey being…..
Somewhere, someone tunes a harmonium…..clears a throat…a hand draws a curtain aside…..
The peaceful reassurance of the daily azaan spreads out from the mosque…..calling the faithful to prayer…..
The flower vendor…now setting up shop, attaching an extra strip of plastic sheet to fend off the rain…. Stops a moment and bows his head as the nearby tolling of a bell and the sound of a conch shell being blown announces the beginning of a new day in god’s abode….
A woman kneels down in a pew…..praying…..the calm of the church mirrored in her peaceful face…..
The rain looks down at the city……..now, half awake…slowly stretching its limbs……..stirring from the depths of a restless rest…………awakening to the jangling of a bread earner’s faith……
The shower relents……..probably giving in to all the Monday morning groans and grumbles emanating from a city forced back into consciousness…..
Finally, all that remains is the moisture on the flower vendor’s tarpaulin and the shadow of the boatman’s song on the rippled river…….
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 11:23 AM UTC
the krishnachura and the champa
both of them
have the only-one unsheathed afternoon
both of them
have the same-one broken harmonium
how long more the eyes of terracotta
would roam in the sun
the uneven fate-line
is written on the green slate
the sound of the vocal chord is also eloquent
as if it were some bare trees of wood-apple
around the swimming
there are some scattered scrapes of slippers
the colour of whose straps
is blue
and some tales of the faded sky
i return home with the night of
phosphorus
i return with those waves of the
mid-night that have no translation
i lay them in order
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:03 PM UTC
See what we have become,
love has propelled us
to greater heights.
Greatness has visited us.
Mercy has shown up
and smiled at us.
Grace is at work.
His banner over us is love,
for the beauty of the spirit
shines forth.
Fortune is here to be taken
by all who are worthy of it.
Your faith is all you've got
to win in the down world.
Faith drives the body to conquer
the insurmountable.
Unshakable to withstand the storm,
for the mountain you carry,
you were supposed to climb.
The sword of the spirit drawn
against all craftiness and
manipulations of the evil intruders
who messes with you and those you love.
For the greater one lives and dwells in you.
To be in harmonium with ourselves is a
prerequisites for harmony to reign.
Immense help is available for the
ones who dares to seek for divine support.
To knock on the door unanswered
shows that you just need to push harder
for it to be opened.
For the one who asked is helped.
Remember that anyone who cannot be
counselled cannot be helped.
This is the new dawn.
Arise now and reset your life.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:55 AM UTC
No hoot, mute the flute.
No sweet music oozing out of the muse.
Orchestra is playing another tune.
Desperate sounds are coming out the pipes.
Chasing a different melody we can't sing.
Vocal chords are broken.
The voice of angels unrecognizable.
The ***** is missing keys.
Instruments are rusty and old.
We can't hear but whimpering is in the air.
For their struggling to push their share.
Been broken for far too long.
Don't know when the chaos of sound will come undone.
Disappeared harmonium is merely impossible to rescue.
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 9:38 AM UTC
You found me
simplicity,
harmonium,
quiet ***** humming
slow,
softness,
starts,
and the violin follows along
And you grow
oh so quickly
and my smile joins you
my body
my toes are tapping
and a man walks sturdy
stepping on your beat
with a smooth nonchalance
And I am lifted
my arms raising,
reaching,
and my legs
weightless
Enveloped in song
warmth,
lilting,
socks slipping on a wooden floor
clapping along
as your voice grows
Strings thrum
and my bones with them
and as you fade I slow
my twirling gentles
but my smile remains,
breathless
cheeks red and eyes
glowing.
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 5:32 PM UTC
The Cosmic,
the cosmos,
the universe,
the galaxy,
the whole earth,
the world,
within and without,
even beneath,
all of them bear witness
of your coming,
of your existence,
of your purpose,
your destiny is shaped,
your path ordered,
predestinated to rule,
configured to win.
You are not of the earth,
for you are born of God,
alien in the world,
resident in the earth,
the spirit man,
with heaven within.
The firmament,
and all that composes planet earth, water,air,flora,fauna, soil, people,
human creations,
is needed to be in harmonium,
live in harmony, respect, love,
and oneness.
We must connect lovingly to mother earth,
all living creatures,
human and nonhuman,
physical and nonphysical,
intelligent or without intelligence,
containing a soul or not housing a soul.
We must respect the planet earth,
the water, the trees, the air, the animals,
and other humans.
We are all of,
and from,
the same source.
Just for today,
Be at peace.
©20189 Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 1:03 PM UTC
Summer:
He kissed me
Flashes of my past favorite things charmed those blue eyes
God
I still remember everything about us
Fresh fish on the grill
The first time you held my hand
We curled around each other's bodies like tentacles
We wanted every inch
Sweat
Harmonium on inside humor
You found me and I followed
The ring bells
Terms of endearment changed so drastically
He held her so gently that I melted like butter
Like what you would cook and we sweated until we kissed
An entire day downstairs and an entire night upstairs
No wonder I got so dizzy.
Finding ourselves becoming one.
Sharing clothes and teeth marks and hearts.
We were happy.
Once.
Fall:
The leaves changed.
So did we.
I over stayed my welcome.
Being swept out like the garbage below you.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
The inches between us in your bed
Complete with "Nightmare Before Christmas" print
Grew larger and larger
The unfamiliar faces began becoming your new candy
Apparently I wasn't dark, or sweet enough for anymore.
Winter:
On my knees
I never knew how terrible tears tasted
Begging you please
Slap Slap
I fell down a flight of stairs
You came with me, but only to use it for malice
Why?
How?
I never should've cared.
True love doesn't exist here.
Only long walks through the jungle
Giraffes walking around.
Long limbs. Long eyelashes. Long tongues.
That's the only freedom that exists.
Spring:
Where did these feet come from?
Suddenly I can walk by myself again.
Shaky.
My hands and back tremble from the weight of the world.
Atlas has not helped.
Surrounded by the ghosts of my past, and present.
Keep this for the motto girls:
"No one can have me like I got me."
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
Eating Cadbury's chocolate handed
to you by sultry Amazons as you
float gently down the river Seine
in Paris while accompanying Frenchmen
in berets gently play their harmonium
thingy as the younger Brigitte Bardot
lets her blond hair tumble gently over
your face as she softly hums in your
ear songs by Smokey Robinson,
& meanwhile Hendrix's long sweet jam
Voodoo Chile blasts from enormous
banks of speakers being towed alongside
by Viking longboats crewed by Republican
politicians & overseen by the ladies of
***** riot now free from the prison cells
of Siberia,
as Tommy Cooper performs magic tricks
& near extinct animals, birds & insects
mate freely among floating clouds of
vapoury spring dew,
while deliciously gorgeous Thai ladyboys
slowly peel grapes for me before setting
off in a fluttering cloud to use their wiles
& charms on Republican conventioneers,
as you relax & smoke ***** & share a
hot-tub with God.
Joy.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 8:05 PM UTC
Le dernier coup de vêpres a sonné : l'on tinte.
Entrons donc dans l'Église et couvrons-nous d'eau sainte.
Il y a peu de monde encore. Qu'il fait frais !
C'est bon par ces temps lourds, ça semble fait exprès.
On allume les six grands cierges, l'on apporte
Le ciboire pour le salut. Voici la porte
De la sacristie entr'ouverte, et l'on voit bien
S'habiller les enfants de chœur et le doyen.
Voici venir le court cortège, et les deux chantres
Tiennent de gros antiphonaires sur leurs ventres.
Une clochette retentit et le clergé
S'agenouille devant l'autel, dûment rangé.
Une prière est murmurée à voix si basse
Qu'on entend comme un vol de bons anges qui passe.
Le prêtre, se signant, adjure le Seigneur,
Et les clers, se signant, appellent le Seigneur.
Et chacun exaltant la Trinité, commence,
Prophète-roi, David, ta psalmodie immense :
Le Seigneur dit... » « Je vous louerai... » « Qu'heureux les saints.
« Fils, louez le Seigneur... » et, vibrant par essaims,
Les versets de ce chant militaire et mystique :
« Quand Israël sortit d'Égypte... » Et la musique
Du grêle harmonium et du vaste plain-chant !
L'Église s'est remplie. Il fait tiède. L'argent
Pour le culte et celui du denier de Saint-Pierre
Et des pauvres tombe à bruit doux dans l'aumônière.
L'hymme propre et Magnificat aux flots d'encens !
Une langueur céleste envahit tous les sens.
Au court sermon qui suit sur un thème un peu rance,
On somnole sans trop pourtant d'irrévérence.
Le soleil lui faisant un nimbe mordoré,
Le vieux saint du village est tout transfiguré.
Ça sent bon. On dirait des fleurs très anciennes.
S'exhalant, lentes, dans le latin des antiennes.
Et le Salut ayant béni l'humble troupeau
Des fidèles, on rejoint meilleurs le hameau.
Le soir on soupe mieux, et quand la nuit invite
Au sommeil, on s'endort bien à l'aise et plus vite.
361
I am an
odd fellow,
don't expect me
to be like you.
I follow the
path of my
destiny.
The sun doesn't
shine for you
alone.
Neither the moon
at night time
belongs to you.
The wind cannot
cease because
of you,
everything benefits.
Breathe in the
air of life,
and exhale love.
Cold and it's
chilling snow flecks
is felt by all.
The odd things
happened for a
reason.
For you to
know and live
life and love,
you must first
desire it with
your heart.
The good life
awaits you.
This abysmal
cannot elude,
exclude and eliminate
the very ones
it came to pick.
The innocent ones
are protected by
the greater light.
I am a
protagonist,
the forerunner
of the inner quest.
Don't ever shrivel
by its presence.
Be bold and
unshakable.
It's not meant
to harm you
but to create
harmonium and
protect your interest.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
What is this man,
Can you tell me?
Man is a spirit.
The spirit is man.
Man, the spirit.
The Spirit man.
Both are blended into
one spiritual force.
The spirit man is from above
and is heavenly,
while the man is physical
and is earthly.
This man and that man
lives in a physical body,
possessing the power of both
the upper world and the lower world.
Two different kingdoms infused into one.
Converged in his being are
complex and multiple nature and
thought patterns interwoven within
his mind in resonance to the
influence of the spirit man.
Both are infused
and encapsulated together
into one whole essence.
The spirit man becomes more in tuned
to the octaves and radiations
within the balanced rhythmic
interchange of the cosmic forces
and intuitively linked to both internal
and external wavelength.
The consciousness of the mind of man
recognizes this fact,
and dynamically helps you within
to live in harmonium when you find
the rhythm that balances and centres you. ©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC