I’m So Proud Of My Murali Boy
I’m so proud of my son Murali
cos he’s always thinking smart
and efficient
I asked him the other day:
“Sonny boy
dear Murali
What’d you like to be
when you grow up? ”
And he says to me:
“I’ll be a garbage collector, Daddy”
And I say to him:
“O my dear boy -
why a garbage collector
of all the jobs? ”
And my little boy Murali
says, smart as he always is:
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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In Praise Of The Moon
I will not sing you a song of praise
O gentle moon
there are too many modern people around
too many enlightened minds tonight
they reckon they don't need your light;
there are too many elect
and too many going to Heaven
and if I sang in praise of you
they will throw their Blessed Books at me
and they will say
'You moon-worshiper, you go to hell! '
(they fancy words like idolator)
O so most divine moon
O godly moon
O most sacred moon
I shall not sing in praise of you;
there are too many bloodthirsty wolves around
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Goya's Dog
1
in the
two-story
Quinta del Sordo
Goya deaf man himself
(like unlikable Beethoven)
73 now
lives
painting, painting on the walls
2
there is a
dog
just the head looking up
half-submerged
what is it?
is it earth, a hill?
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Vow Of Silence
Kron joins the monastery;
he must stay in isolation
and is allowed to say 2 words
every three years
3 years pass
and Kron is brought before
the Elders
and he is allowed his 2 words
“Cold room, ” he says
3 years later
again Kron is brought before
the Elders
and he is allowed his 2 words
“Bad food, ” he says
3 years later
again Kron is brought before
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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The Best Book In The World
the best book
in the world
the only true book
is the world itself
the Book of Nature
the best book is the silence
the wordless-ness in
the clouds and the sky
and the rivers and the oceans
and the lands
and the grass that breaks through the concrete;
and in the deserts and the volcanoes
and the stars
and the moon
and the creatures of the earth
and in all fellow beings
and the vastness beyond
and the vastness within
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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The bird sleeps in the bamboo grove
It is night.
The moon glows above the grove. There is another moon too in the pond.
The stars too glow, scattered all over the expansive sky.
It is a cool night.
The bird is asleep.
The bird rests on a bamboo branch with thick leaves.
And the night whispers to the bird:
'sleep gentle soul
that sings for delight;
sleep kind heart
that nature fashioned;
sleep while sister moon watches over you
sleep while the stars bless you
with starlight, starlight;
O sleep gentle soul
that sings for delight
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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The Butterfly Hunter
O hunter
butterfly collector
let us be
We got a life
we love to fly
and we got family
O don’t catch us
don’t bottle us
don’t gas us
let us be
we love to fly
and we love to bring joy
to poets in gardens;
we love to bring laughter
to children in the fields
O please, Collector
do not bring death to us
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Rembrandt laughing (based on the painting 'Rembrandt Laughing' by Rembrandt)
somebody asks:
how do you get to smile
and how do you get to laugh so often?
how do you get humor?
uhmmm…
you get that
if you
don’t take
yourself too seriously;
but if you think
you’re so important
(and you’ve got doctrines that give you importance;
and you’ve systems that make you important;
and you are a religious leader, perhaps?
or a serious follower who's hell-bent on going to heaven?)
then the goddess of humor and laughter
leaves you
and you’re left with greedy gremlins
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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What Did You Learn At School Today?
1
What do kids learn
say on the first day at school?
...just some light-hearted verse follows...
2
See it's Tim’s first day
at high school;
see dad’s come to pick up Tim
See all the kids are coming out of school
And you can see Tim too
Do you see Tim?
He is walking
and Dad waves to him
and Tim gets in the car
and Dad says:
“Hi Tim…Did you enjoy school? ”
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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The perfection of anonymity
Even in the place where some knew my name
I walked unknown though, occasionally, some would mutter,
some would mouth a whisper:
That's him
and point in the direction.
Here, however, is the perfection of anonymity
for I
not only go without an identity,
I go too without a name.
Here, however, as
I slip through department stores and streets
and get off trains and walk into stations
like a shadow
as one more in the crowd
is the perfection of my anonymity for I not only
go without an identity, I go too without a name.
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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