Very Soon, And in Pleasant Company
Soon is a complicated word,
Does soon mean tomorrow or in two years?
Does it depend on what I’m focusing on?
When I crack open a cookie,
My fortune will spill out like a yolk,
I’ll scramble it together,
Figure it out,
Piece
By
Peace.
The Rain and Nature
The summer is the hottest season.
The sun becomes angry.
But sometimes it goes under the clouds.
It can’t show its hotness.
The rain starts.
The nature gets drenched.
Sometimes it rains slowly,
But sometimes it starts to rain cats and dogs.
The entire nature becomes cold.
Everything goes to under water.
The trees start to take bath,
The leaves become clean.
Sometimes it rains over a day!
The people can’t go to their work.
It sounds awesome.
That’s true.
But for the general people it’s like the curse.
Because they can’t earn their foods.
Don Bormon is a student of grade ten in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
The Ancient One
Before the stars began to shine,
Or the moon was a pale light in the night ,
Eons came and went,
In this age we live in,
Stories were told and retold,
Until lost in the in the mists of time.
Many wise men shared their wisdom,
And their truths were made known
To the world..
But the people walked on in darkness,
Trampling their truths as they went.
Their weapons became more and more fearsome,
And they had help with the evil they chose.
The Ancient One is watching,
He knows this too shall pass,
He seen it come,
And He watched it go,
He is the first and the last.
Water
Once a man went near a sea and said to the water, “Tell me something about you.” The water said to the man, “I can bring flood and can destroy a country, People drink me when they feel thirst, People use me to wash their bodies.” After hearing this the man again said to the water, “You have so much power that you can destroy a country but you always take the shape of the thing where you’re kept.” Saying this, the man took water in a pot and went from there.
Monsoon in Bangladesh
Clouds roll in over fields so wide,
Raindrops fall and rivers glide.
Bamboo bends as winds rush through,
Leaves dance in a world turned new.
Children splash in muddy streams,
Village ponds reflect gray dreams.
Monsoon sings on tin roof tops,
Till the final raindrop stops.
Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade ten in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
HANDS – THEY SHOOK AND THEN…
They futured like gods.
This hand (call it woman),
that hand (call it man)
togethered an applause.
Their fists of spider,
their architect fingers,
built patterns of gauze.
One blob (called embryo)
soon became elbows
attached to hands and jaws
that grew into prayers
to clapclapclap their heirs.
BELLUM PARTUM
And the whole earth with death and death-cries filled, My Lai,
Might long remember the face of suffering Dresden!
This is a battle hard to endure, and grim. Gaza Gaza Gaza
— Dorothy L Sayers tr The Song of Roland
Like zealots
coked on bullets,
the soldiers spread
metal sperm
into harems,
their birth of death.
The bomber
was in labor,
sucked a deep breath,
dropped her load,
her egg of blood,
her birth of death.
GRACELESSLY WAITING
Now, hum, chant, dust off the altar.
Calf’s already gutted for slaughter.
All I need now is the priestess.
“Just hold me in honor, hold me in awe,
my fine and gaudy mistress.
I pray you, Make me your god.”
But you released me, to wander
beyond the range of my hymns.
And left me here to conjure
you, incarnate, back from a dream.
So, carefully, I detail your temple
with incense to be purified.
But I’m running low on these candles
while watching the calfling putrefy.
DIRTY BLUES
Log on the fire burning into white ash.
Stick in fireplace turning into white ash.
When the fire’s cold, thrown out with the trash.
Used up, ejected, treated just like dirt.
Disposed, rejected, tossed out same as dirt.
One unravelling thread dooms the entire shirt.
Condom in the corner when the passion’s spent,
Tossed into the corner after love is spent.
One more unmourned dead soldier in the tent.
Expired, discarded, discharged just like dirt.
Damned and abandoned, swept out just like dirt.
Maybe not dead yet, maybe just hurt.
Mission finished, an empty toothpaste tube.
Purpose over, a used-up toothpaste tube.
Just gum on the fanblade after it’s chewed.
Tossed out, discarded, forgotten — just dirt!
Thrown out at the wedding, now I am dirt:
Left-over confetti lying in the church.
Log in the fire burning into white ash.
Wood on the fire turning into fine ash.
My steady warmth for you spurned in a flash!
Disposed, dejected, treated just like dirt.
Thrown out, ejected, treated worse than dirt.
One unravelling thread dooms the whole damn shirt.
BREEZES — GALES
My lifetrain went to pieces
when it jackknifed off the rails.
Buddha showed the eightfold path.
I lost it on the freeway.
I had memorized the prayers
but I couldn’t do the math.
Some others got the Jesus
but I got stuck with the nails.