The Cause Of Earthquakes According To A Cleric
earthquakes
and such disasters
are caused by immodest women;
if you are wise you will see this truth
women
indecently dressed
and accentuating contours
cause excitement in vigorous young men;
if you are spiritual you will see this truth
the men who thus get excited
(and it’s all the women’s fault, you will agree)
and so are led astray by such women
and this causes adultery
and such immorality which
results in seismic activity
and so you have earthquakes;
if you are pure you will see this truth
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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It was but just a while ago
remember just a while ago,
remember not too long ago
we were but children at school
as little Jane with braided hair
and clumsy Lee with pimples to spare
Ah, how time grays our heads,
sweethearts,
and life blesses our hearts,
blesses our hearts
O remember sweethearts,
it wasn’t too long ago
we were but teenage girls exchanging gossip
and many ambitious boys exchanging blows;
O remember it was just a while ago
as it seems, just some days ago
and now our children bear children and
our grandchildren are at play in the fields
Ah, how time grays our heads,
sweethearts,
and life blesses our hearts,
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Autumn's here
The heat's down from 34 C to below 30 C
and my daughter declares:
It's autumn.
A day of dark clouds and cool air
spoils us and my son declares:
It's autumn.
Are you sure?
I ask and they mock me.
Their friends told them it's autumn
and we unemployed migrant adults
should listen to the children
for their friends have lived here
all the ten or thirteen years of their lives
and who are we unemployable migrant adults to question
the wisdom of the local children?
And, by the way, winter's round the corner.
OK, children of Australia,
we say,
it's autumn if you say so.
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Dog Mumbo (a horror story)
Dog Mumbo
lives alone
since his master disappeared
in the corner house
in Suburb Bumbo
Mumbo stands with
his head at the window
paws on the sills
and when Stranger Whoever's
heart is touched
"O that poor thing,
so so sweet"
and comes in to pat the dog
Dog Mumbo invites
Stranger Whoever
to the master's seat
and closes the door;
and when Dog Mumbo turns round
to Stranger Whoever
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Tale Of Another Selfish Giant
you ruffian, Oscar,
what are you doing
on the wall
of my garden?
do you not see
the warning signs all over?
Sir, I’ve done what
I need to
and I’m climbing over
to jump back to open space
on my side of the earth
you scoundrel, Oscar,
you surly boy -
did you pluck the flower
the red red rose
so precious and rare?
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Run Home, Run Home Butterfly
run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly
there’s rain and hail
and the wind blows wild;
what are you doing
flitting idly by?
run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly
duck for cover
excuse the expression;
hide under a tree
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Time Now For The Donkey Dance
it’s time now
let’s all do the donkey dance
it’s time now
for intelligence to carry the donkey
that’s the way
each one of you carry a donkey
for the donkey is tired of its burden
and now it’s your turn
a throne for the donkeys
each intelligence must be
so now
carry the donkey
each one of you
and me - of course, me too
and let’s do the donkey dance
left right
left right
hee haw haw hee
and side and round
and turn
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Song for girl in checkered shawl
gentle girl
in checkered shawl
in Safonkovo,
the artist's village
charming girl
and of delicate smile
in your simple rustic clothes
like any other girl everywhere
with her dreams, her loves
flowering in time, coming of age
with nature's rhythms
girl of desires and wishes
and warmth and good heart
anonymous, unknown
and growing and marrying and begetting
and loving and nurturing and passing
in time past, another age
another clime
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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The Hungry Frog
if I were a frog
first I'd dart my tongue out
and catch a fly
then with the same sticky tongue
I'd catch a human
actually as many as I can
and all the cars and streetlights
and some mud and puddles of water
to sauce the whole thing
and eat them all whole
in one roll
And then I'd do the same thing
always with my sticky tongue
deracinate the trees, the rocks and mountains
and all living things
(all humans first I'd dispose of)
and all objects and planets and stars and space
and quasars and matter and anti-matter and zero
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She was in the profession
She stopped her work at her lawn when she saw me
and leaned over the fence and we talked for over two hours
with my elbow on her posts and my feet resting
against the palings.
She had worked forty years in the same profession
and had seen generations through the doors. She
had enjoyed her work and people still call her to
tell her about themselves; they express their gratitude
and how much of a difference she had made.
She walked down the fence, waved her arms
and returned to the corner where I stood.
But what was work for?
she asked.
Forty years doing what was good for others
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