Wojja Fink Poems

I forgot about Wyoming
Its name it sound so fine
I’d listen to the crickets and join in with a rhyme
The mountains and the rivers the names play rhythms in my ears
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Are they really worlds apart?
When both ring bells deep in the heart
Krishna sings in the Bagavad Gita
Christ’s words carry an inner metre
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After reading Hue Blues by Subroto Chaterjee


Colour me purple if not then in red
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I’d love to visit Montana and wander on the plains
And go camping in Yosemite and walk inside the rains
Catch a Greyhound bus, down the roads we’d dally
And make sure the driver stops in the middle of Monument Valley
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If I could write a poem
to light the mind of men
I’d sing it from the rooftops
In hills and vales and glen
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Should you die before your death
Peace is born on every breath
Beyond the tongue or hiss of lips
Beyond all thought that slowly drips
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Wojja sat alone one day with some rhyme
But felt ill at ease ‘because it wasn’t his time
He wrestled and tumbled and played dice with his words
But they just wouldn’t fly, like fledgling birds
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So you did, just like when your mam said
Don’t go near the fire you’ll get burnt
Said there’s a ghost in the cellar but wernt
Don’t speak with your mouthful but you often do
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Full of treasures from the East and the West
Pearls of wisdom by far they’re the best
Come all you poets sing all your songs
Sing it out loud where the glad heart belongs
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I have had enough of heart aches
And poets shouting pain
Words like empty sandcastles
Dissolve in tumbling rain
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