Teen Poems

FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.
...

born from a spring
from mother earth's womb

an adventurous child hood and teen
...

When the morning star,
Sees first sun ray,
And disappears,
In grief and distress,
...

First world war
Resulted 40 million causalities
1914 to 1918
Died men women children teen.
...

Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;
Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes!
No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,
Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats,
...

It seems someone has cast a dark net
And the town has become a trout caught in that net;
It seems no morning has ever approached here, -
The town has sub-merged in an over-flowing darkness.
...

You came in my life,
When I was a teen,
A girl with a dream,
A girlwitha heart,
...

He didn't want to do it with skill,
He'd had enough of skill. If he never saw
Another villanelle, it would be too soon;
And the same went for sonnets. If it had been
...

I lived not up to expectations
Thus raised distrust and many questions,
Had promised to keep words,
In the name of God and also Lords,
...

When I was little,
My mother charmed me with delightful stories.
She knew I was enchanted by fairy tales.
And I would sit up with rapt attention
...

A.

Almighty and all-merciable Queen,
To whom all this world fleeth for succour,
...

Mobile phone has
enslaved us almost
all times of the day.
Our one hand remains curled
...

I wonder what compelled you to take the Dutch act?
An O.D. on number three, thirteen or eight?
A suicidal soul gets no access to heaven, yet it's intact.
How come you really blew it by the kiss of death?
...

Asleep or waking is it? for her neck,
Kissed over close, wears yet a purple speck
Wherein the pained blood falters and goes out;
...

Tell me now in what hidden way is
Lady Flora the lovely Roman?
Where's Hipparchia, and where is Thais,
Neither of them the fairer woman?
...

Portrait of my teen days,
Reminiscences of youth,
Image of holiness in her
Youth of my longing heart,
...

From the first breath
as a little child,
all i have ever known
has been you
...

"You must choose between me and your cigar."
-- BREACH OF PROMISE CASE, CIRCA 1885.


...

I watched a movie of Suraiya when I was a child,
Suraiya was an Indian popular star,
She exposed her tunes like a guitar,
An appealing beauty making every one wild.
...

I

The God of Love-'ah, benedicite!'
How mighty and how great a Lord is he!
...

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...

A synopsis of the epic of Gilgamesh


'It came to pass, when man began to multiply on the face of the earth
...

A car was coming and going
In the middle of a teen city

The teen step smelling his wandering soul
...

The Teen Flower Arranger

Decades ago I arranged flowers
not as my profession,
...

The sound of teen
Is the sound of the begining of a new season
Where commands need not obeyed
When peers begins to control the organs.
...

A dark figure appears and attacks
shoulders feel a heavy load
teen aged girls feel pains and start screaming.
Take It Easy Siti,
...

Ma olen nii mööduv
kurtis tüdruk merele
oi mis ma teen
sa oled igavene

ma paistan läbi kui sina
kurtis tüdruk aknale
oi mis ma teen
kõik näevad mu südant

ma avanen kui sina
kurtis tüdruk uksele
oi mis ma teen
päike astub sisse

ma olen nii väike
kurtis tüdruk päiksele
oi mis ma teen
sa oled nii suur

ma olen nii rumal
kurtis tüdruk targale
oi mis ma teen
kõik on nii targad.
...

Belated birthday wishes, Evelyn
You reach your milestone of your first teen
We hope you have lots of smiles
Happiness shines in your eyes
...

Is dit waar ons nou is? Hiér,
reg langs mekaar, en tog so ver uiteen;
twee liefdesvoëltjies wat na mekaar toe vlieg
in 'n transmissie waarvan die sein verbrokkel
tot vier liefdesvoëltjies - en verder opbreek - 'n hele sardientjieloop
wat nimmer die ander se strand sal haal nie.

Ek is teen die liefde, die hele storie van vermenigvuldiging:
Die Vatikaan se mooibroodjiesbakkery,
sowel as die viswinkel langsaan.

Jou opgeprikte borsies flous my nie,
jy't maar net jou pantser uitgeklop.
Die metafore is soldate, die gebare almal draagbare,
en jy's 'n baboesjka-poppie
gevul met napoleons wat net al hoe kleiner word.
Stroop die vredemakers kaalgat en gooi hulle by die vensters uit,
Paasbolletjie-kant eerste! Die middelgrond traak my nie meer nie.
Kom ons breek op, laat ons die atoom kloof;
dít sal ons minstens nie in die steek laat nie, tot in die oneindigheid.
Ons soet woordjies? Dié het suur geword -
die giftige kersiekoekies van 'n versaakte voodoo-ritueel.
Al goeie hiervan is om te sien hoe die beraders
en priesters op die vlug slaan,
daardie swart poue in hul nuttelose sandale.
Ek is teen die liefde. Laat die kontinente uitmekaar dryf.
'n Nuwe wêreld maak. Nuwe ontdekkers.
'n Ander godsdiens.

Ek is teen sin. Ek is teen onsin ook.
Nou die dag nog is 'n vark se vrug
met 'n menslike spermsel gekruis.
Ek's heeltemal daar voor.
Dankie meneer meisiedemone,
mevrou kolonel vlieënde vis,
vir paddas reën op die buikspreker,
dat jy die goëlaar só moes vasketting
aan die boord se hangende lemoene;

en die gilspoke wat die Trappis gery het,
jy kan nooit 'n nagmerrie vertrou nie.
Nou moet ek weer voor begin -
was dit nodig om my Drie Apies te steel?

Poplappie Zeus, Moedertjie Son,
jy was my Pantheon gefotostateer
en deur die wind tot lewe gewaai;
nou flapper die verinneweerde tempel
die ene vlêrmuise.

Wat het van ons geword? Waar is die herinneringe?
Ons is aan mekaar se kele soos arende,
verstar in 'n opgediepte familiewapen.

Dit word somer op die hoëveld, waar ons albei woon.
Hulle noem hierdie streek die Wieg van die Mensdom,
waar die eerste mens-ape rondgeloop het.
Die geraamtes van die oertiere lê weggepak
in die kalksteen soos virtuele vleuelklaviere.
Nog 'n jaar verstryk. Die naakte savanne sing. En die weerlig flits
soos my rekenaarskerm - wat dié dokument nou bêre.
Skarrelende makelaars van die jong republiek verbeel nuwe markte
en vergruis met hulle rondgetrap die oeroue skedels.
Maar terwyl alles weer begin lewe, het ons liefde gesterf.
Kyk, tarentale kom wikkel-wikkel uit die gras in hul tjalies van grafiet.
Hulle is die poue, die donsvuurwerke, van lank, lank gelede -
wat verdof het op die retinas van ons twee se lyke.

Liefde: die verborge kategorieë,
die beskilderde deure van die heuningkatakombes.
En nou dít. Verdomp. Fokkit. Vervolging.

Tyd: 'n klip versteende aarbeie,
die piekniekmandjie wat deur 'n bobbejaan gesteel is
naby Sterkfontein Grot,
en die vermiste paartjie.
Ja dít. Móér.

Ons slaap nou op die bodem van 'n see.
Ons gesigte kyk in teenoorgestelde rigtings,
twee profiele op afsonderlike munte.
Ons hare wat kon lig op die briesie van die oomblik,
lê nou geslaan in die wind van die ewigheid.
Ons is 'n verlore skat.
Die skip het in onweer gestrand.

Maar eendag, op 'n mooiweersdag in die verre toekoms
sal twee duikers, 'n ou en 'n meisie,
verliefde skattejagters in die vlak water,
my en jou opnuut daar vind,
met hul splinternuwe lywe
ons weer opdiep
uit hierdie vergete wrak.
...

District of Columbia has crowned Dominck Ms. Teen
Onward goes her smile
memories of a crowning moment in time as a teen.
In fact a Ms. Teen
...