"kazakhstan" poems
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Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
It's not even romantic
But I'm going to write a poem of every boy I met.Not romantic,
It's not that I had met a lot of men.
On that morning
you played ukulele,
I sang along with the lyrics
Creep, Blur,anything
The morning light shined through your squinted eyes
I can still see the dust swirling, dancing in front of the sun-bathed face of yours.
Naive,friendly,happily
We were singing to each other
The other two are non-existence.
You are so warm, comfortable to be around with
A Belarusian boy ,aspiring to speak good Chinese.
You paint, you cooked and made desserts
Always at ease at hitchhiking
through Kazakhstan and China
I felt that you secretly want to try to escape from what you had
from Belarus to Czech, then to this mysterious Eastern world, a bit communist.
And then to Taiwan.
This is for you Ilya, a friend for only a day and night.
You're too delicate for me to handle as you have
skin like milk and heart of seven seas
Smile like a 5 year old in a swing.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
Corina Junghiatu is a bilingual poet/writer hailing from Romania. She holds a Master Degree in Philology and Phychopedagogy and likewise she graduated from The Faculty of Letters and Philosophy in Bucharest. She speaks five foreign languages.
Corina has written and publishing two books of poetry: „Exile in the light” and „The ritual of a Sunrise”. She is Administrator and Publication Coordinator of Motivational Strips, editor of "Bharath Vision" website, and Chief Advisor of World Nations Writers' Union Kazakhstan. Corina has won many awards from international institutions of repute, for poetry.
Recently, Corina Junghiatu, together with 350 poets and writers from 80 countries, received a certificate of appreciation for her entire literary activity, on the occasion of the 74th anniversary of the Independence Day of the Republic of India. This certificate was was handed by the famous writer Shiju H. Pallithazheth the Founder of Motivational Strips, World's Most Active Writers Forum and Padma Shree Dr. Vishnu Pandya, President of Gujarat Sahitya Akademy, a government institution of the state of Gujarat (India).
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 10:45 AM UTC
*one reason why you're not read with a volume you
expected, jedi-know-how, you'll be easily plagiarised.*
**when i first came to england i fell in love
with manchester united...
the 4 - 4 - 2 line-up**
peter schmeichel (dane goalkeeper),
then ooh aah cantona (eric cantona baseball cap),
original wembley white towers...
(white towers, charity shield
newcastle united)
so meh for the arch....
irwin... steve bruce... lee sharpe...
gary pallister... (7) eric cantona.... george best....
mcclair, ryan giggs,
cotton tomilisom, then roy keane...
then davies cole ****
the neville brothers...
scholes and david beckham...
**** stuck to azkazam fudge, it's still perfectly refrigerated
in kazakhstan:
steve mcmanaman will tell you;
it's a random barricade question worth a shot
in the rubric of a sudden challenge.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
A is for atom
Rotten to the core
Melting down
below the ground
just outside the door
Where presidents and statesman
continue to play
with hot core rods
in a box of sand
forgetting where they've buried them
From Kazakhstan to New York
they walk away and wipe their hands
Now all young boys like hot apple pie
but uranium cake is hotter
and those who've tasted such elation
will tell you that it's nearly sinful
the way the warmth slowly infil-
-trates you to the bone
Hear! Hear! A noble cheer
for the best warm dish
served in years...
Soviet meltdown in hot sause
There's a piece for brother and sister and you
There's a piece for mom and dad
who chatter in the parlour
like a geiger counter going mad
Now the nuclear family
eats plutonium pie
and triple scoop reactor splits
melt and drip
from every bodies spoon
Cheer noble! Good men! Cheer noble!
Please stand tall solicit applause
Cheer noble!!
You'll get your rewards
and your just deserts
with a noble cheer
CANDU!!!
Roosty
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
Around a big glass table reflecting chandeliers
suits, oxford knotted ties, long tongues gathered
to move an anti-aircraft division across the western border
straddling two different opinions.
at dusk under the silk of darkness
the satellites zoomed in on the convoy
of green dressed camouflaged trucks,
Slinking down the back roads
under infra-red eyes six hundred kms
across the mountains
to take up new positions.
At dawn the satellites spoke to each other
and defied opinions made at the round table.
The longest tongue now hanging out
in sheer delight at operation well done, like steak!
Without discussion the satellites ordered the trucks
back to where they came from!
When the war began the anti-aircraft guns
were ready and waiting for the enemy
in the wrong location.
A flock of geese migrating from Canada to Kazakhstan
were met with missiles attracted by the metal tags
researchers had strapped around their ankles.
As the feathers settled into the waiting valley
two satellites in outer space
laughed at each others games
And switched off.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
In a place created
By the hands of the minoritized regiment
"Immigrant"
has somehow become a bad word
an insult
a curse
Immigrant, arrogant, delicate
Dedicated to the saving of our lives
The protection of our wives
and children, the fear in their eyes
It's evident your estimate's incorrect
A guestimate on its hind legs
You scared?
Hesitant, eloquent, sentiment
The settlement you created and forced us in
Reminiscent of that place where we've been
Pushing against discrimination because of the color of our skin
And you teach your kin
Such words of sin
Look down your noses at us, you and your tie pin
Tryna get signed in
Bring mine in
Eyes cryin.
Blue skies and
Bold lyin.
You didn't give us time
You didn't let us find
your way, tryna get in line
Tryna stay, I'm
just tryna
just tryna
From Mexico, China
to Puerto Rico, Brazil,
Drinkin my Jamaican ***
From Hindustan, Kazakhstan
to Bolivia, Thailand, rock the wrong drum.
Liberia, Ethiopia to London.
We all came or were tryna come.
You deported us, afforded, and so we sat
ignored, deplored.
Unsure of any light
so we fight for what's downright
ours and tonight, We bring our standards to new heights
It'll be tight, and we'll bite.
And we'll stand on our toes
So everybody knows
We stood for our rights.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
i believe that there lives a counterpart
of me in Spain and in France -
equally critical - not me per se,
but two individuals to compensate
my efforts in England,
Eastern European, hell-bent
to overtax the happy meal and frozen foods
for "the busy lives of 21st century love-e-dub-e's;
a seance of unification might be far away
mind you;
they say they cite the Bible as if it
were an Encyclopaedia -
you reared the African as subhuman,
you think, that other European nations
will succumb to the African systematisation
necessary for integration?
you actually think i'll abandon my
mother tongue to engross myself
in your filthy history and sing god save our queen
like a kindergarten sing-along readying
myself for Oompa-Loompas?
oh i'm sure that's just due to your genetic
makeshift tents on the steppes of Mongolia;
any news from Mongolia? none.
any news from Kazakhstan? none;
except irony... or the great Tao principle:
forget the world and let the world forget you;
i'm not too eager on the Heidegger octopus either
having to be in the world and care for it -
or at least tax my existence with a concern for it.
but of course it's like an inbreeding principle:
little Britain meets the Empire,
Darth Asthmatic... coo khhh... coo khhh...
H vocalised is the best painting
of ancient static in televisions,
motivational ashes lost with digitalisation,
the kaleidoscope of flies and 8-eye spiders
hacking the flight with spider-web geometrics...
prolong the first two letters of the word Khan...
and i'm sure you'll genealogically stress
the origin of Pakistan as being in Mongolia.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 7:40 PM UTC
obviously Gibraltar would vote to remain,
it would be one of the few remains of
the British Empire, the Spanish
version of Hong Kong,
4.1% leave, 95.9% remain,
no immigrants there, just expatriates
from Benidorm - if it voted to leave then Spain
would double the emphasis to eject
the British from the region;
but if you're going to fully pull the thing apart,
and go to a history of myth, Arthur
prior to Angevin Empire, i guess you have
to give that little scrapheap of pride back too -
this referendum is really like watching
Gorbachev pulling apart the Soviet Empire
in slow-motion, it's not chunky like
Kazakhstan, a banoffee pie, but more
like what remained of feeding the 5,000 thousand
at the last supper.
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
My favorite trips are the ones I never took
In Kazakhstan there are trees submerged in Lake Kaindy
who instead of rotting have remained frozen in time, heavy
with icy spruce--and I feel strangely in touch with them.
Sometimes I'm self-sustaining on a single kiss, like any insect
of the Coleoptera order, literally, sheathed wing, the ones that crack
into the summer soil and bury themselves between dry blades of grass
and decomposing springtime--
I am a lot more of myself inside my head, terribly forward and
magnanimous, always curious and split into hundreds of questions
firing like these silvery synapses or a school of minnows refracting in and out, i'm afraid of never letting her go, that my fear of falling through every open door will forever deter me from finding that she is the best and most beautiful part of me.
that I will never change seats and let her continue on in thrilling fantasies of how I almost was--what I almost said and what could have been, building ecosystems around laughs and
hands and that feeling when in the low tangerine glow
two people pull up their shirts and press their skin together
unfolding in soughs as if they are gales rushing through
each other's sails, fluttering between knees and
glowing in barns.
she is there and wants to try everything, the most careful exhibitionist in daisy leaves and doily patterns, barefoot in your room with dandelions between her toes, wisps of cotton quilted into her hair, unwavering in the light and ever more in the dark, and when I am silent she is in the background quoting John Keats and Dylan Thomas, taking your fingers to trace her own lips, effervescent and tireless in the ways that she loves you without regard--
I want to let her go
I want to let her go
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
I looked out east this morning
The early light of day was painting the landscape
Much to my surprise the foothills of my beloved Cascades
Glowed with a lovely purple hue
Instantly my eyes filled with tears
As freedom was dying all around me
And the victims themselves
Clamored for more police-state oversight –
Was faint at first, a distant ringing
Like church bells in the neighboring township
The sound bounced aimlessly off the valley walls
Yet each time it struck my ears
My eyes filled and I caught a sob
Deep in my throat
Dylan called them the “chimes of freedom”
But I think they are ghosts of a bygone era
Haunting those of us who remember the dream –
Fascism and dissent rule the evening news
And no one is listening to the wise old bluesmen
When grandmamma is 38 with a **** it” attitude
And the police shoot unarmed minorities in well-lit streets
Leading with bleeding is seeding discord only
public outcry is for Kayne instead of Kazakhstan
and the CIA led ***** trade
is giving narcotics anonymous new parade routes
truth hurts, like an arthritic hand
gnarled and twisted
in the freedom mist
….better get **** drunk
And reminisce about blissfulness –
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 5:38 PM UTC