How green was my valley

The White Horse by John Constable (1819)

How green was my valley,
before they came
carrying crimson soil on their heavy boots
stamping out every flower,
yellow, blue or white

They brought a new tongue
shoved it down our throats
we then lost our voice
for words spoken by native mothers
where not heard by their sons

They came on black horses
and stole our silver mares
ate our grain and burnt the mill
Our stables were left to muddy pigs
our houses now kennels with chains

They stripped our loamy soil
thirsty, drank our rivers dry
stood atop the mountains
and it crumbled under pressure
washed away with the summer rain

In winter they hunted wolves
In summer shot our blue jays
In spring they drank tea
As our children twirled about
Till they got dizzy and fell

Their god came with them
handsome head and a crown of thorns
our maiden was no match
for she loved everyone
but they loved only him

Some called it progress
One called it the fall of hubris
afraid or eager to please
they said it was about time
but what if it was too late?

Now my valley is yellow
my blue skies grew pale
daughters are afraid of the toxic rain
sons afraid to grow up
fight the war we never won

My green valley still resides
in these words and others
spread it like wildflowers
for wildfires are extinguished
by the new memories, they give us



Flower Garden by Gustav Klimt (1905)

A Dandelion rises from below, Gaia’s child
and soothes my cracked heels
as I walk home on burdened shoulders
Greeted by vibrant soldiers growing wild

Sometimes I lay down, legs outstretched
on dew-laden leaves of green
tired of the day, back a wreck
Against my neck, a blue flower leans

I wish the grass would grow taller
cover me whole, Earth take me in
As the sun sets and stars assemble
till the moon resembles a silver pin

Let the worms feast on my mortal suit
take back all I have taken
for I’m a leech that keeps on sucking
blood intoxicating, as the piper’s flute

Once they’re done, let me remain
in my brown blanket of solitude
with strangers and lovers long forgotten
was life, now rotten, under thy eternal reign

Let me become a dandelion
Holding my head up in the sun
For they too will walk along soon
on a spring afternoon, my fellow dandelions

19 Haikus for COVID19

Japanese Painting
Tenmyouya Hisashi – Japanese Spirit No. 14

Golden corona
Sweet beer or deadly virus
I want a haircut

I’m bored, alone
Hanging between life and death
Hooked to iron lungs

Wash! Rinse! Sanitize!
Before you wipe away tears
I just got laid off

Happiness erupts
Seeing my newborn smile
Live on a zoom call

T-shirt for a mask
I scrub the hospital floor
Am I essential?

The bank needs money
Give me my stimulus check
The church needs money

Give thoughts and prayers
As I sell my private jet
For greedy workers

Social distancing
She stays two meters away
Break up made easy

I will keep updating this post!

I seem to forget

Trying out some experimental stuff so bear with me.

Sunflowers by Claude Monet
SunFlowers by Claude Monet

I seem to forget
The colour of your hair
Was it short with a streak of blue
Or was it green on brown
Like the last day of summer

I try to recall
Your favourite dress
Is that what was blue, like Monet’s lilies
Or was it yellow like Van Gogh’s flowers

I do remember a park bench
was that a yellow straw hat you wore?
I forget if we held hands
Did you kiss me?

Did we walk or did we sit?
Did you smell like Easter lilies?
I think you were talking
But I never listened

There are so many things I don’t remember
many more I want to forget
Somethings are about the person you were
Others, about the person I am

Why Should I Care?
Wassily Kandinsky — Sky Blue,

Why should I care?
About the shirts you pick
About the clothes I wear

You didn’t, back then
as we pranced around
starlit, skin bare

Why should I care?
On how your day went
What’s right, what’s fair

We didn’t, back then
pain was superfluous
silly an affair

Why should I care?
That we’re in public
silently let them stare

I didn’t, back then
when we kissed
As you caressed my hair

Why should I care?
That you love me still
but you can’t be here

I do too, as back then
till my heart beats
and lungs fill with air

The Meeting

The Two Fridas (Frida Kahlo)

On a summer day, in May
You said you were going away
“Where?”, I ask, you smile
“ I’ll be gone, only for a while”

Azul summers faded to white
Five hundred days turned into night
I stood still as the earth spun
Under your spell, unable to run

I jumped high, I dove deep
I took pills to help me sleep
Time healed, and dulled the pain
Till they mentioned you again

Did I miss you, you ask
Looking through my flimsy mask
“I used to”, still beguiled
“But I haven’t, for a while”

Now there is someone who
Loves me more than I loved you
I wish I could rip my heart in two
Lo, I’d give the bigger piece to you

Incapable to love I am
I know ’tis is but a sham
Do I even deserve love true?
Yet I ask, do you?

Your Name
The Death of Chatterton- Henry Wallis

As space behind your eyes fills up
With lilac knights and silver tea cups
My eyes are open and they see
Folds of grey on a colourless sea

As you dance on grass velvet green
Skipping stones on lakes serene
I am chained to a leafless tree
Brackish water kisses my knee

You stop you stoop, pick up a flower
Pluck red apples, with gust you devour
My back aches, my head sinks
With every breath my belly shrinks

You chase a doe, giggling with glee
You catch it, kiss it, let it flee
I struggle and the chain sinks deeper
My hollow voice calls for the reaper

Do stop for a moment, do you wonder
Why this bliss, do you ponder?
I clench my fist, try to dream
Hatch a plan, cook up a scheme

Afraid to leave you idyllic life
You left me in eternal strife
Wistful I am, call it wishful thinking
The tree I’m tied to is slowly sinking

Hold a shell close to your ear
Feeble still, my voice you’ll hear
Whisper a lullaby then throw it away
With merciful currents, it’ll float my way

Consider it payment for the ferry
A song of assurance, you needn’t worry
In crescendo, I call out your name
If only you could do the the same

Monday Morning

Venice with the Salute, c.1840 - c.1845 - J.M.W. Turner
Venice with the Salute
J.M.W. Turner

I lie awake and dream of shoelaces
With multicolored strings intertwined
Of canvas with cherub faces
And your toes touching mine

I turn my head in your direction
The sun a halo around your head
My fingers search for some connection
On the farther side of my bed

They grab but the cold sheet
Golden silk feels like straw
Grey blankets coil around my feet
My Head’s stuck in in a feathery maw

I open my eyes and the room stops spinning
Bruised pages emit Arabic smells
The smug clock face can’t stop grinning
With unread words my cellphones swells

I seal my eyes shut again
Hoping to catch another fleeing smile
As you swim the seas of Spain
Off and away from my isle