The Animal State (Imagery, Allegory And Satire)

No earthquake, no thunder, no volcanic eruption Or even there was not any of other natural calamities, A sudden loud sound broke out all through the bush With whizzing, shuddering, cracking, tearing, echoing, Fear, horror, dark, terror, misery and ill spirits spread Committing destruction, death in a horrible situation, Dust, dirt, smoke coiled over the whole atmosphere The harmless animals are quite perplexed, helpless They began crying, shouting, running, rushing, fainting Seeing reddish spots and innumerable torn bodies.

A Child's Christmas In Wales

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six. All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen.

Desert Places

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast In a field I looked into going past, And the ground almost covered smooth in snow, But a few weeds and stubble showing last. The woods around it have it - it is theirs. All animals are smothered in their lairs. I am too absent-spirited to count; The loneliness includes me unawares.

Out Of Feelings

desert sucks upper water to store in the deep trees, plants, herbs and grasses are about to die sunshine reflects on mirages there mirages elude and mislead the travelers, travelers fall in danger laughters and howlings heard of monsters; trees distribute all the productions, yet stand still to shadow the tired travelers in mid summer and for creepers or parasites do not fall

Looking For A Mother

If it is difficult to feel your mother Hard to bear and uneasy to share See only the animals around you Relation between mother and cub How they behave for care and love That can make you believe the truth, Just same way your mother loved At early that little you were aged Neither you did nor knew anyhow

Choices

If i can't do what i want to do then my job is to not do what i don't want to do It's not the same thing but it's the best i can do If i can't have

The First Dream

The Wind is ghosting around the house tonight and as I lean against the door of sleep I begin to think about the first person to dream, how quiet he must have seemed the next morning as the others stood around the fire draped in the skins of animals talking to each other only in vowels, for this was long before the invention of consonants.

Poem In Praise Of Menstruation

if there is a river more beautiful than this bright as the blood red edge of the moon if there is a river more faithful than this returning each month to the same delta if there is a river

And Softly Silence Speaks.....

When love flows between two yearning hearts, Even Gods and angels listen, As softly silence speaks, And softly silence speaks..... When the loving couple walk hand in hand, Along the banks of a flowing river, Even the lapping sound slowly ceases, As softly silence speaks.....

Moon Fishing

When the moon was full they came to the water. some with pitchforks, some with rakes, some with sieves and ladles, and one with a silver cup. And they fished til a traveler passed them and said, "Fools, to catch the moon you must let your women spread their hair on the water -- even the wily moon will leap to that bobbing

Rhythm Of Africa!

Dance, dance! With the muse of Africa; Tap, tap! With the rhythm of Africa; Moving your body and, Moving your steps; To the sounds and cultures of the various tribes in Africa. Dance, dance! To the rhythm of Africa; Tap, tap!

Meditation

Coming out of home I see some land and much water all around Full with wonderful animals, plants, myriad of natural objects Some I can name and some I can't, some near and some are so far Some open, some covered, some sweet again some are so bitter, First day, I see and think of the beauty remembering my sweet heart I become romantic one reciting some romantic poems, singing a song Run through the countryside playing hide and seek, hunting wildlife Earn a speed leaving all behind, treading all innocent to go fast,

You, Darkness

You, darkness, that I come from I love you more than all the fires that fence in the world, for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone and then no one outside learns of you. But the darkness pulls in everything- shapes and fires, animals and myself, how easily it gathers them! - powers and people-

Autobiographia Literaria

When I was a child I played by myself in a corner of the schoolyard all alone. I hated dolls and I hated games, animals were not friendly and birds flew away.

Rice Pudding

What is the matter with Mary Jane? She's crying with all her might and main, And she won't eat her dinner - rice pudding again - What is the matter with Mary Jane? What is the matter with Mary Jane? I've promised her dolls and a daisy-chain, And a book about animals - all in vain - What is the matter with Mary Jane?

Fury

for mama remember this. she is standing by the furnace. the coals glisten like rubies. her hand is crying. her hand is clutching a sheaf of papers.

Exposed On The Cliffs Of The Heart

Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down there, look: the last village of words and, higher, (but how tiny) still one last farmhouse of feeling. Can you see it? Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Stoneground under your hands. Even here, though, something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edge an unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air. But the one who knows? Ah, he began to know and is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.

Surpassing Atrocity

Once human could do what the angel fully failed Now human can commit what Satan itself cannot What we are in modern civilization experiencing here In early 21st century, in an atrocious house, Myanmar; Covered in colored fells they sit in meditative mood They know about what they have thought in mind But coming out of the spots with poisonous nails Humans they tweeze to kill making artificial hells,

At A Certain Age

We wanted to confess our sins but there were no takers. White clouds refused to accept them, and the wind Was too busy visiting sea after sea. We did not succeed in interesting the animals. Dogs, disappointed, expected an order, A cat, as always immoral, was falling asleep. A person seemingly very close Did not care to hear of things long past. Conversations with friends over vodka or coffee Ought not be prolonged beyond the first sign of boredom.

The World We Created

Broken bottles everywhere with plastic bags Charred pieces of glass with boxes and fags Ripping out plants and tearing down trees. Is this the beautiful environment surrounding me? Plastic in the sea choking biodiversity with terror Oil suffocating organisms due to human error Waste disposed in the once beautiful ocean. Are these all acts of our human notion?