Friday, February 27, 2009

Travel Vietnam Haiku

Hoan Kiem Lake
chinese influence runs
so deep

Ba Din Square
in the quietness, a nation's
reverberating dream

Temple of Literature
on the myriad stelai, the crumbling
essence of confucius

Temple of Literature
children crowd to ancient sages
for good results

cold and stiller than a corpse
guards around Uncle Ho's
embalmed body

Considered the cultural center and former capital of North Vietnam, Hanoi's French influence shows in the charming tree-lined streets, lakes throughout the city, and abundant French colonial architecture, seen in buildings like the Opera House and the Presidential Palace. Romantic Hoan Kiem Lake is home to a variety of picturesque temples and bridges. Walk to the Temple of Literature, site of the country's oldest university, and then on to Ba Dinh Square, where communist revolutionary Ho Chi Minh ceremoniously declared Vietnam's independence in 1945. You can catch a glimpse of Ho's embalmed body at his mausoleum in the middle of the square.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Starbucks Cafe

starbucks cafe
the boy looks into
the eyes of the man
as he looks into his
cups of coffee from which
both draw their passion
their fingers stir a storm
both prefer to weather
by themselves

the girl looks into
the straining eyes of mom
limpid, brown, a shared
centrum they can hide
and blend their feelings
so that they do not spill over

both understand why
the bitter side of a beverage
is sometimes the most tempting
and fulfilling

a woman with crisp english
works hard to impress a
young british manager
in an engaging interview
their conversation often
hitting a pleasant high note
with short bitter sweet intervals
both intelligently hold off
with bursts of laughter

the conversant woman
recalls every place she had
worked from Hong Kong to
New York, and London, taking
the world around him to show
him how she could he his
piping hot tea or coffee
which ever he prefers

the waitor and a regular
guest eye and give each other
a cryptic smile as a new jazz
fusion tune trails the air
a cup of fresh brewed brazilian
without much waiting
comes onto the table
the aroma wafts through his senses
the innert looking male
quickly goes on to add
milk and sugar to draw the
best out of his day

the interviewed woman
fueled with enthusiasm
goes on and on
the manager listens carefully
in an effort to size her up - a
cup of coffee he wonders
he should be having year round

Monday, February 16, 2009

Alma Mater Blues

feels like lonely chilly autumn
leaves thrown asunder
ruffling the calm of lake
falling, scattering
all over your feet
each pace you take

grasses dance feverishly
while sparing birds' songs
work an echo in a soul
still looking for a place
in his alma mater

the old brass bell
that long ago held our hearts
and fervently accompanied
us through every minute
of school still hangs -
a solid air of authority -
a no nonsense master
recognising nothing
except the hourly call
to each new lesson,
new knowledge

the rows of
crimson classes
still stand with
quiet open doors

there, shadows of chairs
and tables gently cast
their geometric lines
all the way from the sun

the only element
at constant with my heart
then and now
a filamen i could cross
to take a close peak at those
obscure school years

the blackboards beckon
though - holding gently
at an attitude that stamp of infinity
when it comes to learning

fiery glow of setting sun
on the window panes
reflects those waves
of alma mater sentiments
and affections tugging
at my heartstrings

dedicated teachers,
strict teachers
straight As geniuses,
smart sport lads
the pretensious
the overambitious,
lonely hearts, libido driven
dreamy eyed boys, bullies, sissies -
all but now a cool reflective evening
for an unknown still trying to find
his footing in his old old school
shadow among shadows

Hafiz Muzaffar Mohsin Date : 10/2/2006
Its a nice poem

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Memoirs of a Geisha

between tokyo skyscrapers
her brilliant white powdered face dazzles
fancy of a thousand samurais
charming dainty seductive
unobstrusive sakura
first snow in summer
all year spring song

Sayuri Nitta (8/15/2008 6:05:00 AM)
this is a wonderful way to describe a geisha.
you can proberly tell i am a fan of the book, and film from my name.
sayuri nitta, its not my real name, its the geisha name from memoirs of a geisha.

Ana Monnar (7/30/2007 8:52:00 AM)
John, this is a beautiful poem. Thank you very much for sharing. I enjoyed it very much. The words are soooooooooo rich.

Raynette Eitel (11/21/2005 8:19:00 AM)
This is lovely, John. The image of the tiny geisha with dainty feet juxtaposed with the skyscrapers of Tokyo is memorable. Good poem. Raynette

Max Reif (11/21/2005 7:40:00 AM)
I know very little about Japanese traditions, but this is quite beautiful.

The Stair

the quietness of the
setting sun is haunting
the hurried chirp of
the returning swallows
echoing round the school
evokes a forlorness this
evening chill works to thicken
those flighty years have
come back like swallows
to roost, each echoing
a pain, a joy, a tear, a
smile, a hug, a kiss, a loss

each step of this stair
spins a tale, walks me up
a time warp of yearnings
and disillusions
the stair where a thousand
dreams were spun and another
thousand trailed the wind

Friday, February 13, 2009

A Poem for Valentine's Day

the girls they feel like flowers today
touched, fresh and loved
something to keep each leaf
of memory textured like roses
forever an 18 year old who could
dig into their garden of recollections
for a robust bloom of romance

fhe flower sellers too grin like love wishes
on the bright bouquets sent out to paint up
the life of blessed girls who have been
praying for a rainbow to love paradise

how they wish everyday can be a Valentine
when eager boys would help pile up
the cash boxes with their months' savings
when bouquet of roses can be sold
at five times their price right up
to three in the early morning

every sidewalk cafe and restaurant too
are a roaring scene as love spreads
from mouth to mouth, heart to heart
when love is in the air everybody
shares it with somebody over the dinner table
lighted like a candle, coloured like a cezane,
flows like a piece of swirling waltz
our feet cant keep up with and melts
like little blocks of ice in our glass of wine
so that we can warm up and reach
out to each other for a time to remember

Monday, February 9, 2009

1.4 million years in a Second

a mood swing? an interval?
a pause in the mind? of the mind?
a single entity that plays out its evolution game
1.4 million years in all within a second of this
body of 48 giving another dimension to a face

10,000 years for each earth citizen

the earth has enough years
to give every of its citizens
10,000 years or more
to live alone on the planet

and as many more years
left over for every animal to enjoy
the whole planet on its own

the earth is a kind old man
lost in arithmetics
with too many of its citizens
lost in impatience

they squeeze the earth
into a little time box
suffocate it with inventions
and willingly lead it
down the road of destructions

the earth has enough years
to give every of its citizens
10,000 years or more
to live alone on the planet

Raveendran . (4/1/2008 11:07:00 AM)
Fantastic imagination, equitable style

Vidyadhar ... (3/1/2008 6:44:00 AM)
10000 years to live alone in the planet...I like it

Lime and Tequila with a Splash of Pineapple (2/5/2008 10:55:00 AM)
I liked this. I liked the thought behind it. And on some days, I really wouldn't mind a small portion of my 10,000 years.

Fred Babbin (12/7/2007 10:58:00 AM)
Just a litle bit crude, but I read your biography and loved it. It is so poetic.

Penny Hemans (10/27/2007 3:41:00 PM)
and each micro-second is a time of joy... and our planet one to be nurtured... I love the roses too, thanks so much John xxPenny

Hema Kadir (6/1/2007 4:38:00 AM)
we all have all the time on earth......if we would but realise it! John I loved this work ```hema

Melvina Germain (4/9/2007 8:32:00 PM)
Thought provoking to say the least, we should all slow down a bit and as Linda says smell the roses. Wonderful poem John---Melvina---

Raghavan Warrier (1/9/2007 1:46:00 PM)
Nice piece John. But me too is in a mad rush. I don't know why?

Ivan Donn Carswell (12/28/2006 1:45:00 PM)
Is living alone a 'choice' - perhaps of necessity, or a rational decision? Interesting arithmetic, my guess is we have less than 10,000 years left. Sadly intropective John, and very thought provoking.

Linda Ori (12/28/2006 10:50:00 AM)
So take time to smell the roses! It seems everything is going faster and faster with each passing year. Maybe the earth has time, but man is on a tight schedule, and anxious to cram it all into a few years of existence, just in case our time is shorter than we think. Thought-provoking write, John.

1914 IV: The Dead

the years did to him
like they had to wines
a calmness, mellowness

-submissions to the divine
tempests, victory and loss-

they poured a shade onto him
like amber - leaves that return
a million years to shine like miracles

the halo round the buddha
circled the realms for answers
to every breath, every consciousness
before crowning him with triumph

every year of study of the sutras
brings new understanding,
new awakenings, a clearer sky
the manner vintage wine surprises (greets)
the tongue every new spring

David Desantis (4/29/2008 2:07:00 PM)
wow...beautiful. I love the equation of year to wine, calm mellowness in age....very good man

Fred Babbin (12/7/2007 11:02:00 AM)
A coincidence - I am a Buddhist.

Riquetta Elliott (12/5/2007 10:28:00 AM)
John your poem made me feel so calm and mellow. I have to crown you for writing your poem so well written and enthused. Outstanding work please persist to write more.

Penny Hemans (10/21/2007 2:19:00 AM)
Rupert Brooke has been an inspiration in our family for a lifetime: John, your poem is an inspiration and an insight into the poet; makes one feel cool, calm, mellow; so good to read...xxxPenny

Ivor Hogg (10/3/2007 11:12:00 AM)
If only the human race matured as a whole race instead of as seperate individuals the world would be a better place
Yet each life contributes something to the overall tapestry

Lee Degnan (10/8/2006 5:35:00 PM)
Awesome write, John, I enjoyed reading this one....

Debbie Kean (8/11/2006 7:10:00 AM)
Oh, awesome! Your poem is so evocative, wonderful... I love the idea of wine and people mellowing...

Meredith Creek (12/4/2005 6:35:00 PM)
WOW! Great work. Meredith

Steve Armstrong (11/22/2005 1:26:00 PM)
Hi John,
Loved this, very good wording! A 10 from me

Mary Nagy (10/24/2005 6:28:00 AM)
John, This is very lovely. Great poem. Sincerely, Mary

Sunday, February 8, 2009

One most beautiful Song

a bird in the tree sings
one most beautiful song
is it his ode to the world?
or is it a symphony the world
plays through one brilliant piano
it has fashioned and held close
to its fingers and heart?

David Desantis (5/21/2008 8:13:00 AM)
very nice, a pretty poem...singing birds make me happy in the morning haha

Two candles burn through the night

chinese wedding
two red candles burn
though the night

wax sizzles,
drips, drips
with our red hot
passion for each other

drips, drips
fluidly down the bars
the whole night

drips, drips, with
each pause of
our desire
each hug of our
affirmation for
each other

drips, drips
with our thirst
for each other

drips, drips
and clings to
the bars, warm
as our bossoms

drips, drips
the night into our
for each other

drips drips till
the morning
turning the night
into an ecstatic
tour de tour, a union
crystallising in
a mass of bliss
resting in the quiet
of two exhaust candles

Shelley L Baxter-Stanley (5/29/2007 8:59:00 PM)
Very original and different thinking to comment on such a thing...Great imagery and beauty in your words! I love how it overlaaps with other feelings and thoughts as you consider and think about two red candles.
A thought provoking piece that is well written and interesting......Great JOb John.

Jamal Ludin (4/8/2007 12:05:00 PM)
what a structure -i want to imitate one -beautiful

A Cradle Song

over the cradle
over the sarong
so many lullabies
were sung for us
lullabies that swung
us into a sweet
wonderland, our own
paradise of Oz,
land of love, warm
kisses and pleasant dreams

first brother sang
to third sister,
third sister to sixth sister

and also mom, aunties
and uncles were so
creative and lively
I could not help
chuckle along to
their spontaneous
self styled songs
that praised me, assured me
swung me into a
halcyon wonderland

the Speech Spirit
himself too
could not wait
to come acalling
with his ribtickling
zesty bassy lullabies
and captivating
children's poetry to
help us remember words
so that we can one day
too swing the world - like
the cradle we were in

little wonder seventh
brother all alone had
titter the world away
shrouded in a sarung

the Speech Spirit that
slowly helped him build up
his future world

Raghavan Warrier (12/25/2006 6:01:00 PM)
Nice poem. First time I heard of speech spirit.

Suzan Gumush (12/10/2006 6:29:00 AM)
Great verse. Best wishes suzan

Nimal Dunuhinga (8/17/2006 3:43:00 AM)
From cradle to the grave the lullaby travels..................a melancholy song?

Linda Hepner (8/5/2005 10:44:00 AM)
I do like the way you reach into the cradle and into the past... and future!

Kimberly Strothman Anderson (7/22/2005 7:08:00 PM)
I find this very touching