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Was searching somehow for a good Mother's Day poem
On the eve of Mummy's event day this year,
To copy & send one very special poem
Within a circle of bouquet of th' lyrical sentiment which
I'd collect overnight and
Hold fresh, for the blooms to be shared
Right at following early dawn on Mom's day of the year,
As messages sent out as gifts for a few friends,
Poetry lovers and
Keen readers, alike, of Lyrical Digests of mine.
Hunting for that special one I looked for,
As it is my way, I
More like left it to all
Our divine matchmakers' tri-pronged
Proddings at the door of the
Fate of dating the chances out in the open,
Thus to accrue for turn-outs best possible to the pack of cards of
events
Lingering in the lurk,
Full well shuffled, maybe
Jackpot juxtapositions in word & rhyme this time,
Realized, if thus done, beyond the ordinary human powers -
And lo! what I found, then decided to opt for
In the end, was
As a frontrunner piece
In the new string of poems to be woven,
Second in my choice turn after
A short set of inspirational
Verses from the Vedas,
Lores and teachings abiding in the gods,
Out of God's mouth of
Ancient India's wisdom Seers, - a
Best thing to start with -
'A Contemplation Upon Flowers' by
Mediaeval times'
Henry King Bishop of Chichester.
He sees therein the basic earthly patience that the earth's flowers
exude,
As a practical lesson for us beautiful humans,
Bound alike to the soil at the last,
As are the beautiful flowers.
Different punks of mighty words,
Poetesses and poets coming up -
Uruguay's turn-of-the-19th-century 'Joujou'
Flurried herself into this noble round of lyricists,
With herself envisioned
On the rocks in graced labor in
'Your Mouth',
'Adam's' endless 'Complaint' by Denise Levertov,
Joy Vanderhelm's 'Human', who
Feels herself gladly more like an aminol,
Then 'A Poem A Day - Sweet Sunday'
by Rita El Khoury from
Beirut, as they're shooting again in the streets of Beirut
For the fifth day,
On this year's Mother's Day,
After all of which, finally, I had
Stumbled onto the theme poem wanted,
Christian-borne Indian
Dr. John Celes' tribute to his Mother
Alive at above 90 years of age, as
'Happy Mother's Day 2008.'
To conclude the entire mix of
Poetically contrasted multi-message
I yet chanced to include a few love poems, as well as a
Few naughty ones, too,
Like such as one about an ever obtrusive 'Landlady'
Or an Afro-American 'Saturn's Child's' account of
Probing her dead-drunk father's sleep
First, by sticking her finger, then
Her whole hand into his mouth,
To the effect of 'the ogre's sleep making shake the house in tremors.'
And I sent all the poems via the air,
As planned, at early dawn on
This year's Mother's Day,
A last tributary message with
'Joujou' in black & white put into the picture
Rounding it all up:
And then, after all my messages containing the poems were out,
Received by a thankful good handful of readers,
I stopped to read it all through again myself,
And reflected on all of it once more
Through the lens of my private life.
A Contemplation upon Flowers!
This was the first in line
I had stringed up in the bouquet of the day -
Mother Day's lyrics.
The poem - just newly discovered by me that very eve:
'How often have I seen you at a bier,
And there look fresh and spruce!
You fragrant flowers! then teach me, that my breath
Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death, ' ends
Said poem.
Hadn't I, an Oriental oriented German of a cosmopolitan village
From this eastmost homestead of mine
Left, first time in my life's latest series of intensive journeying
For the graceful shores of ever so youthfully inspiring Mother India
On a flight through Far Eastern City of the Lions',
In the energies spurting middle of last millennium's last decade of
utmost hopes,
Embarked on a ship of the same aerodynamically flown plane,
That below its passengers deck
Had carried the body of a certain young foreign
Housemaid girl, slain in a private household tragedy, who
Originated from the same place as I was coming from, -
The island country the Spaniard Conquistadores,
On their maps, had called
'Islas de los Ladrones' (Islands of Thieves) , -
The returned-dead poor maid's name having been »»»
'Flor Contemplacion'?
At a time when I was to make use of the same plane
Bound for India via the dead one's fateful port of departure,
For me eventually
To return from my noble destination with
New knowledge and
Books on all aspects of the divine wisdom, including
Ritualistic aspects to the cosmic natures of the Heavenly Being,
For the Divine Royals to be invited to be hosting them,
The gods to be entertained
For lofty friendship's sake in my own home
With all due regal gifts and respects tolled, with
The worships, as in my case, eventually
To evolve over one full stint of almost four thousand
Splendid royal home receptions,
Offered in all pomp to great Shiva & His Beloved Mountain Princess,
As well as to a
Whole array of the manifold nature Goddesses of left and right,
Worshipped with flowers
In between their endless love and their endless terror
Ever witnessed by all of us as exerted onto
Our world of joys & pains,
With all this for one grand »»»
'Contemplation with Flowers'?
And yes, yes!
It is true that
My further life did follow selfsame
Pattern of that one-time plane
Flying me away so high,
On the exchange return after
A personal entity's cast away,
While
Contemplating
The flourishing of new.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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