Quotes about pirate, page 18
To the infant who was found dead covered in plastic
You had no business to enter
This unloving world too soon
And uninvited dear child
You unloved and unplanned and
Unfortunate and unappreciated
Burden of our uncaring society
Too soon like the free looting
Pirate you of all people went
And blindly smuggled yourself into
Our great over burdened lives
Your mother was too busy
Enjoying herself in the bright lights
And you sneaked yourself in
To temporarily bring to the halt
Her merriment in the lime light
And that was unfair of you to spring
The surprise of your shocking
Arrival while she was so busy and
In retaliation she responded to teach
You manners and feed you to the dogs
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poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Pasa Thalassa Thalassa
“The sea is everywhere the sea.”
I
Gone—faded out of the story, the sea-faring friend I remember?
Gone for a decade, they say: never a word or a sign.
Gone with his hard red face that only his laughter could wrinkle,
Down where men go to be still, by the old way of the sea.
Never again will he come, with rings in his ears like a pirate,
Back to be living and seen, here with his roses and vines;
Here where the tenants are shadows and echoes of years uneventful,
Memory meets the event, told from afar by the sea.
Smoke that floated and rolled in the twilight away from the chimney
Floats and rolls no more. Wheeling and falling, instead,
Down with a twittering flash go the smooth and inscrutable swallows,
Down to the place made theirs by the cold work of the sea.
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poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Where else - India
The Guju, The Bihari, The Rajasthani
The Dubai just returned Malayalee
The Madrasi, The Bengalee, The Punjabi.
For instant beauty - a pack of ‘fair & lovely’
Where else does the sun rise on so many different faces?
Where is there unity in so many races?
The banker, the potter, the astrologer, the techie
The teacher, the baker, the beggar, a doctor in Reiki.
The Colonel, the smuggler the executive in the mall
Pay hike, CTC, 'Increment' the biggest problem of them all
The extravagantly rich, the not so, to the penniless poor.
Live together in diversity, beauty and want of more
Samosa, Avial, Bhel Phuri, Chutney
Chicken Biriyani, Kabab, Limited Meals Ready
Payasam, Jamun, Jangiree, hot hot Jalebbi,
Diabetic ice cream 100 % sugar free
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poem by Dann Thomas
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To the Old Gods
O YE, who rode the gales of Sicily,
Sandalled with flame,
Spread on the pirate winds; o ye who broke
No wind-flower as ye came--
Though Pelion shivered when the thunder spoke
The gods' decree!--
Into the twilight of the ancient days
Have not ye flown!--
Ye, whom the happy Greeks inspired hand
Struck from the frenzied stone:
That, ye withdrawn, your images should stand
To take their praise.
Smeared into clay, and frozen into stone!
Ye, that do now
Face eyes unworshipful in plunder's halls,
Mutilate, with marred brow:
Broken and maimed: couched along alien walls
In lands unknown.
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poem by Muriel Stuart
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Boy-Dreams
I was a Pirate once,
A blustering fellow with scarlet sash,
A ready cutlass and language rash;
From a ship with a rum-filled water-tank
I made the enemy walk the plank;
I marooned a man on an island bare,
And seized his wife by her long, dark hair;
Took treasure, such heaps of it!—wealth untold—
Bright bars of silver and chunks of gold!
Till my ship was choked to the decks with pelf,
And no one dare touch it except myself
And my black flag waved to the tearing breeze,
And I was the terror of all the seas!
I was a Fairy once.
I swung in the bows of the silky oak,
And the harebells rang to the words I spoke,
And my wings were fashioned of silver gauze,
And I knew no grief and no human laws.
And I lived where the laces of green leaves sway.
And my life was one long, long holiday.
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poem by Mabel Forrest
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Something Holy
Butterflies sail over entropy
Color moves in spheres of light
Transcendent circles spiral
Ancient warriors on quiet hillsides
They rest with morning
Feathers for war
There are armies coming to Jerusalem
Sleep you children of slaughter
Crushed in the onslaught of manifest destiny
Ghosts look upon the mountains
Weary history swirls in blood
Visions where sands of the sea rise
All these chains
Can you hear the thunder?
Invent another world where insanity is silent
There is something so wrong here
Hide in forests
Run for the shelter of pleasure
The rain of karma has found us
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Junk and the Dhow
"An Unqualified Pilot"
Once a pair of savages found a stranded tree.
(One-piecee stick -pidgin -- two piecee man.
Straddle-um-paddle-um-push -um off to sea.
That way Foleign Debbil-boat began.)
But before, and before, and ever so long before
Any shape of sailing-craft was known,
The Junk and Dhow had a stern and a bow,
And a mast and a sail of their own--ahoy! alone!
As they crashed across the Oceans on their own!
Once there was a pirate-ship, being blown ashore--
(Plitty soon pilum up, s'posee no can tack..
Seven-piecee stlong man pullum sta'boa'd oar.
That way bling her head alound and sail-o back.)
But before, and before, an ever so long before
Grand Commander Noah took the wheel,
The Junk and the Dhow, though they look like anyhow,
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poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Moral Bully
YON whey-faced brother, who delights to wear
A weedy flux of ill-conditioned hair,
Seems of the sort that in a crowded place
One elbows freely into smallest space;
A timid creature, lax of knee and hip,
Whom small disturbance whitens round the lip;
One of those harmless spectacled machines,
The Holy-Week of Protestants convenes;
Whom school-boys question if their walk transcends
The last advices of maternal friends;
Whom John, obedient to his master's sign,
Conducts, laborious, up to ninety-nine,
While Peter, glistening with luxurious scorn,
Husks his white ivories like an ear of corn;
Dark in the brow and bilious in the cheek,
Whose yellowish linen flowers but once a week,
Conspicuous, annual, in their threadbare suits,
And the laced high-lows which they call their boots,
Well mayst thou shun that dingy front severe,
But him, O stranger, him thou canst not _fear_.
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poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Wilted Rose As A Bookmark
Desideratum*—plucked young as an oblation
of the love sick hermit, ,
Billet-doux *forgotten, why resurrect me in a book raving wolf &false prophet,
to venerate at leisure? , a life in bracket, the reluctant goddess
Then cast away to shadow knife in the cellar?
Or a worse fate of utter neglect in Hades.?
Feeding her cold, satisfied distrust,
Condemning a future bound to its secrets,
When in denial, looked me over,
just a banal confirmation or an error fixed in doubt.?
Surrendering each page to the bookmark,
given an adrenalin wash for the trouble,
Like a prop used to measure the mistakes of the past
Or a fruitful future to girdle.
The Gods are hard to please, give him the benefit of doubt,
No one’s innocent all have blighted the rose!
Petals compete to be wisps,
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poem by Seema joglekar
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A bullock cart from Malacca
Long and winding road
with patches and holes
The holes which sometimes
turned into small ponds,
every time
after a heavy downpour
You can no longer smell the tar
on a hot burning day
The road was too old
even the town council named it
the road to cemetery
A rural town
occupied by
Malay farmers,
rubber tapers
and pensioners
living in kampong
An enormous green paddy field
spreaded in the middle,
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poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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