Four Decades And A Poem

by Lencio Rodrigues

  Denying the sound of a single drop.

  The sound of the splashes,

  Like voices ranting,

  Deafening the sound of my soul.

  And I learn to restore my peace,

  my calm, the silence within me.

  I learn from resentment,

  I learn

  I learn from tasteless food

  the zest of mother’s cooking

  for I have tasted something insipid

  as life without any joy,

  more than once in my life

  I learn from aversion,

  from things that pass through my life

  and I am grateful,

  for every bad experience being the teacher,

  One day at a time.

  ~*~

  trees, the robins sing

  must shed leaves to welcome spring

  begin life anew

  ~*~

  Open Wounds

  Healing never needs human eyes

  like those who saw my misery

  and pitied me,

  sympathized while my heart

  beat like bare feet pounding the earthen floor.

  More than anyone’s actions,

  I have felt imprisoned

  by my very own,

  with noise of hundred children

  yelling by my ears,

  Contemplation – breathless breathing…

  In such time,

  I heard trees creaking without

  getting closer to them,

  seen blood without any injury or fight,

  sensed the song spin to silence,

  my eyes hidden inside the caves

  on my face,

  and cheekbones rose like mountains

  out of the desert sand,

  In such time

  I kept thinking what you would think of me,

  burrowing my fingernails through

  my palms feeling I would lose you forever…

  But your voice always felt the same

  like an orchestra to my soul,

  like a hug in a trembling moment

  like air in a stuffy room

  putting off the fire inside me like dawn’s dew,

  For your soul touched mine

  and soothed my every anguish,

  Just as the eyes would see and know

  what and how to heal open wounds.

  Unknown

  the |t|i|c|k|i|n|g| of the clock

  in the gradual song of dawn

  lulling me to sleep…

  Birds chirping a m o u r n f u l song

  yet happy in their world

  to have survived the cruel calamity,

  lives falling, like particles of dust

  in a mudslide,

  souls, sailing like paper boats in a storm,

  leaving wounds

  as

  d

  e

  e

  p

  as

  the graves dug for them.

  Like us, they struggled for “life”

  and God knows how hard they tried to survive,

  those, not destined for the graves

  and buried deep beneath the foot of mountains,

  breathed their last

  with a hope that someday,

  someone would find them…

  It seems the dawn was singing a requiem

  to these…

  unknown.

  Unseen, Uninterrupted

  If my life should end

  and I should be created again,

  I wish for nothing more

  than to be by your side

  or be a part of you,

  Invisible and silent.

  Silent, like we’ve always been

  feeling the love in all its fullness.

  I wouldn’t want to be anything

  like an angel or a spirit

  that can be seen through your mind,

  But rather be mingled

  with the air you breathe,

  the water you drink,

  (whisper)

  even a cell in your blood,

  Or anything that you wouldn’t be able

  to do without,

  I would want to be unseen,

  and love you like I always do,

  and leave your earthly love uninterrupted.

  Forgotten Endings

  Again

  the morning seems fresh

  and new

  as a new feat of a baby

  hopeful and enchanting.

  What happened to our yesterday

  is a story of yore

  almost forgotten

  without any beginning

  or an ending,

  with a sort of gist

  hanging like a flicker,

  to disappear like a shooting star.

  All we retain is what we are

  ~ you and me

  right now, right here

  as we always are,

  in our never-ending world.

  Stillborn Joy

  nine nervous months

  doubled with bliss

  tripled with confusion

  and troubled with betrayal,

  shame, deceit and gossip.

  dreams, dampened like a ceiling

  covered in moss

  strength screaming

  like dynamite,

  proud not to sell her soul to the devil

  a second time

  even though it came to this:

  labouring single-handedly, six to six

  to nurture the fruit of their love.

  she didn’t pray for luck

  or for endurance

  as her little angel would obliterate all pain…

  but his eternal silence

  only made her darkness continue

  despite her inconceivable soreness

  and sacrifice.

  Silent Auction

  Dreams washed,

  furniture taken

  jewels pawned

  antiques auctioned,

  all left, is myself…

  Car stops

  “500 Rupiah” beckons a man,

  then a Mercedes rolls down the screen,

  a man shows his index finger

  v

  e

  r

  t

  i

  c

  a

  l

  l

  y

  “5000 Rupiah, okay?”

  I knew a virgin’s worth

  Bare necks cry for gold

  Bare necks cry to dazzle in gold

  focused on prices as tall as The Burj.

  Anxious, this doom will end as told,

  chances taken by the worrying bold,

  Bare necks cry for gold.

  Bare hands cry to jingle in gold

  fingers pointed t’wards ad boards,

  waiting for rings to slide upon and hold

  watching prices rise higher twofold,

  Bare hands cry for gold.

  Bare ears cry to dangle in gold

  listening to rumors of prices fall

  rushing hysterically and uncontrolled

  returning sad, empty handed, cold,

  Bare ears cry for gold, cry for gold…

  as London plays its music!

  Breaking News

  We are a sonic world
, we make sound travel faster than light

  and lives of significant others,

  a smirky headline: wearing similar shoes.

  We prefer, choose, rather,

  to dwell in this asylum and feed on regress and downfall

  of even best friends, or so what we term them,

  busy like a Monday,

  catching up on what we could’ve missed over the weekend.

  We are a sonic world, we love noise rather than a sweet song,

  a break up, rather than make-up

  knowing better of others than ourselves,

  pressed for time, always out of time

  and plenty of it for rattle and needless rhyme,

  drooling for first hand information

  thrilled to share secrets without comprehension,

  for we are the privileged ones, confidants.

  We are a sonic world and we are quicker than light.

  Our Freedom

  21st century slavery: captivity of the soul and mind,

  like grain trapped in a winnowing basket

  the body longing to be alone, naked,

  from the hustle of crowding acquaintances, favours and ravers

  and a day without question,

  longing to be untied of gossip, curiosity and whining.

  Freedom is the brain before the sun is born,

  before the day paralyzes and turns it into a whore to all it’s chores,

  Captivity is being tied with envy and jealousy,

  being bound with petty things than larger.

  Today, freedom is about equality,

  ~ being slaves to those who’re our equals, or less than,

  and not descending independence.

  Denunciation ~ Lento

  Despise me; I am your wretched slave,

  Revise not your ways how you treat me.

  Chastise me with your insensate words,

  Disguise the goodness, so none can see.

  Inflict accusations, for I may give in,

  Predict deadly disaster, my fortune-teller,

  Verdict of your frustration I await to hear,

  Evict me from your fruitless life forever.

  THE POEM

  God, if I could breathe ‘til eighty, I’ve crossed half the time

  But I wish not to live by years if there’s no rhythm or rhyme

  If this life has no purpose and I’m empty of love and care

  How good would I be with wasteful eyes that’d simply stare?

  I wish not to live by years, but the measure of love I can give

  Saving our planet with those who are busy yet so very passive

  giving back to the earth twice of what I am receiving,

  going green, sparing species that run in the wild from hunting.

  I need no wealth, but wisdom to tackle pain of the suffering

  give food for all, water for soil and shelter for the wandering

  I beg for peace that has been hiding for a very long time

  I pray for tolerance that cleans the grime of war and crime.

  If thou kept me even for a day and filled this heart of mine,

  empowering me with grace to affect change, it’d be fine,

  For all what we need is a change in each and every land

  A change of heart, a change of mind and a freely giving hand.

  Today, I look into myself, still very young with much to give

  give to the dying world and complete your motive,

  I know not if I would live this day to love someone next year

  and so, I pray that my prayer becomes every human prayer.

  Glossary of terms

  Abra – (Arabic) a traditional wooden boat carrying approximately 20 passengers across the Dubai Creek in the United Arab Emirates

  Ahlan – (Arabic) meaning “hello” here refers to an Arabic newspaper.

  Baga – Beach located in central coastline of Goa, India.

  Bom Jesus Basilica - located in Goa, India and houses the body of Saint Francis Xavier.

  Café con Miel – (Spanish) coffee with Honey

  Casbah – (Arabic) Citadel, a fictional Arabic nightclub in the poem

  Cosmos – herbaceous plants with slender stems, growing between 0.4 to 1.5 m tall. Flower colors are variable with eight petals or more.

  Goan – term used to describe the people from the Indian State of Goa

  Gulmohar – Flame Tree

  Hadeharia – the habit or the constant use of the word “hell”

  Hatta – a small town in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, famous for its heritage village, mountains, springs and desert safari and is a popular location for residents of Dubai and nearing Emirates.

  Kannel – a local lake where the book’s author often frequented.

  Lucknow – capital city of Uttar Pradesh in India.

  Mussaenda – a small, tropical tree with pink, red or white flowers growing in bunches.

  Maghrib – the fourth prayer of the practicing Muslims prayed just after sunset.

  Mapusa – one of the main towns in Goa in India, famous for the Friday market.

  Souq – (Arabic) or souk is a market in any Arabic city or town.

  Suleimani – referred here to black lemon tea with sugar, consumed popularly by Arabs.

  Peepal – sacred fig tree with heart shaped leaves. The skeleton of which is often used for painting beautiful designs.

  Pooja – a religious ritual performed by Hindus as an offering to various Gods and goddesses or distinguished persons.

  Rajasthani – people of the State of Rajasthan in India, known for their hand crafted jewelry and embroidered clothing.

  Rupiah – Rupees, unit of currency of India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka and Nepal.

  Sadako Sasaki – the two-year old Japanese girl who was about one mile from Ground Zero when the atom bomb was dropped in Hiroshima on August 6, 1945.

  Sangolda – a village in the central part of Goa in India.

  Shawarma – Arabic sandwich stuffed with grilled meat or chicken and vegetables, served with pickled vegetable.

  Urak (also Arrack) – a distilled alcoholic drink made from either fermented sap of coconut flowers or cashew fruit produced in Goa in India.

  HOW TO WRITE A LENTO

  A poetic form created by Lencio Dominic Rodrigues, the Lento is named after its creator, taken from his first name Lencio.

  A Lento consists of two quatrains with a fixed rhyme scheme of abcb, defe as the second and fourth lines of each stanza must rhyme. To take it a step further, but not required, try rhyming the first and third lines as well as the second and forth lines of each stanza in this rhyming pattern: abab, cdcd. The fun part of this form is thrown in here as all the first words of each verse should rhyme. There is no fixed syllable structure to the Lento, but keeping a good, flowing rhythm is recommended.

  For an added challenge, one may write a four-verse Lento and call it a Double Lento, or a six-versed Lento to become a Triple Lento. A poem with more than seven verses is called a Lento Chain.

  Below is an example of a Lento:

  Composed in winter of Two Thousand Five, (a)

  Proposed by my dreams, this entire theme, (b)

  Exposed now for the world, so it can thrive, (a)

  Supposed to be easy though it may not seem. (b)

  Two quatrains with good rhythm and flow, (c)

  Do rhyme the beginning word in every line, (d)

  Pursue to keep last rhymes in line 2 and 4, (c)

  Chew your brain a little, you’ll do just fine! (d)

  bsp;