|| HERMAN VAN VEEN ||

Herman
the Poet,

weaves words, and renders man

sometimes a composer

a philosopher sometimes, and

sometimes a seeker

Herman

the creator,

strings pearls of words

into verses, and renders them

an ornaments of the artist

adorning melodies

sometimes in tunes

in rhythms sometimes, and

sometimes in beats

words

transform into symphonies

in the gestures of maestro Herman

every now in the strumming of a guitar

and then in the drone of a violin

the strike of his palms on the drums

a reverberating echo, a global invocation

for art

for humanity

Herman's art
his elan vital
innate, incarnate
embodied in him
are his musical instruments
resounding like the rare clap of his hends
each begetting a distinct sound
akin to the myriad melodies
the sweet calls of jungle birds
one resounding song for each earthy hour

Herman's voice
like the inner music
of waves breaking on the shore
of rustling winds and untamed gusts
the roar of the forest's core
yet sometimes a vernal breeze
a zephyr of innocent elvishness

Herman
the performer,
embodies nature, the supreme artiste
in his embrace it melts
fuses, amalgamates
and bursts forth from him
a projection of his very being

dressed in the colors
of the Netherlands flag
deep red and marine blue
with sleeves rolled up
ever ready, ever free
to invoke the muse, goddess Saraswati
and create art in its variegated forms
in the melody of an instrument
the versatility of theater
the wizardry
of poetry
the magic of breathing
life into words
words exuding love
words declaring love
in the warm touch of the hand
in the gentle swish of the autograph
for is not an autograph
a touch by the means of words ?

Herman
the master of rhyme and rhythm
writes poetry
in the language of musical instruments
in the meter of dance
in the metaphor of song
the gamut of his artistic creation
is but an embodiment
of his poetic expression
where he is the poem
bound in form, yet unbodied, spiritual
and the poem manifests
sometimes as music
sometimes as an instrument
as a painting sometimes, and
sometimes as nature, in dialogue with man

Herman's body
a shining star of energy
sending forth rays
of artistic brilliance
illuminating the listener
enlightening the audience

Herman
the adept personifier
of art, of creativity
through the beauty of language
through the harmony of dance
and, sometimes
through the inebriating blend of his own voice
and the audience
utterly and helplessly under his spell
find themselves
falling down the magic hole
peering through an animated kaleidoscope
ever-changing, ever-renewing
alive like the eternal beauty of nature

Herman, bard of the Netherlands
you are the vaalsberg of art, of creativity
your gestures smile
in the professor's antics
you touch a chord through the strings of your violin
in your deep voice
resounds the earth's silence
Herman, bard of the Netherlends
you are the flame of peace of unity

conjuring worlds
through your art
painting pictures
through your words
spinning tales through your colors

forever bursting with rainbow hues
in the azure of your beautiful mind
like a shower of rain through your eyes sometimes
dispersing through the prism of your fingertips
dipped in the spectrum of vibgyor

the core of Herman's very being
throbs to create
lives to create

blue eyes reflecting a potpourri of emotions
like a motley bunch of flying balloons
infinite colors of flying feathers
splashed across the canvas bare as moon
adorned in colors vivid and bright
the paintings spread their wings and take flight
and colors seem to fly like feathers
in paintings
in words

Herman's words
woven in poetry
alive like the dramatic personae
of the heart's theater
Herman's words
cast in their roles
adept like the seasoned performers
on the worldly stage
making their way
into the reader's inner amphitheater
they perform
in verse and metaphor
in script and dialogue.

(Herman Van Veen is a renowned Dutch and German poet)

The Poetic Bond

|| Michael Sloary ||

Michael Sloary-

the walking Bauxite

of Surinamese land

his words the pure

gold from the golden

womb of the earth.

Pure as Bauxite and gold

the nomadic Michael Sloary

his head drinks in the

gold wine of the tropical sun.

He rests not

under the shade of

the trees burning

in ancient sun

words drive him on

Sloary is a companion

of words.

With the echo of bird-song

he creates words for

his poems that sometimes

speak of the shriek within

sometimes of the joy

of the heart

like a miner he mines

the mind of the peoples

of the sub continent.

Week in and

week out the Dutch

weekly carries

the living document

of his mind's eye.

Walking the land

Michael connects his

dust with the

sabana dirt of Suriname.

Shooting the roots of

insight into the earth

he wants to grow

the tree of Surinamese life.

He hears the call of

the blank part of the

empty promotional box

his hand writes

the language of peoples' heart

he has words for the gurrachbi

as he has a tale to tell

in the newspaper

words fresh and new

like the sunshine

or a new-dug mine.

|| Re-Run ||

She hasn't seen

mother's childhood

but since childhood

has been seeing mother.

Ever since she

has begun to

understand her inner

world and external

surroundings it is

as if a woman

similar to mother

has begun to take

shape inside her.

Like mother's her eyes

brim and like mother

she too hides her tears.

Folks admire

the high color in

her cheeks and

she retorts-

the delight of love

makes my cheeks
red and eyes bright.

|| seeds ||

The woman bears
with and keeps quiet
like night.

The woman burns
and remains contained
like the spark.

The woman moves on
living within limits
like the river.

The woman blossoms
and flourishes and is
ever hungry
like the tree.

The woman drizzles
and rains and is
ever thirsty
like clouds. 
The woman makes
a home and always
remains homeless
like the birds.

The woman is
a resounding voice
but is silent
like the word.

The woman births
man and remains a slave
like the seed.

|| The Earth ||

The earth bears

the pain of 

being alive like 

a lonely woman.

Folks scratch her innards

trample on her for

their crazy pleasure

some decorate and preserve her

as they do a lonely woman

All watch the destruction

the earth too sees

her slow destruction

and still, through

her own powers-

fire

rain

tornadoes

floods

famines

creates balance 

against destructive forces.

Like the lonely woman

the lonely earth saves-

her verdure

her rain

her coolness

her fertility

her purity

her identity.

|| Peter Brawns ||

Peter, you have words
cordial and trustful
In adverse times
folks sleep in peace
and dream of 
good times to come
While you keep awake
devising ways to
protect the honest
and the simple
from adversity

Your searching eyes
seek the mute
human civilization
and the pain
of wars entombed 
in memorials
and museums

In times when
man is out to
gobble everything
in sight you eat
little and drink
less

Untouched by greed
rich in sensitivity
you stand with
friends often
against yourself

Opening bottles of
wine with enviable
expertise your joy
is in watching others
enjoy 

Familiar with
the crookedness of
the genteel you
hold on to
a moral code
of your very own

Peter Brawns
you are a friend
of the soul in
a world where
friends become strangers
at the drop of a hat

|| Hanneke ||

An European woman

with an Indian heart 

and soul-Hanneke

With open eyes

she hears and sees

all in silence

like a still river

In her eyes

all see their reflection

amidst movement

she sits unmoving

Seeing everything her

ears hear-everything

the way her eyes

watch-day and night

Often she thinks

eyes are helpless-

they see whether they want or not

ears have no option

but to hear

what if the lips

too spoke the words

of the soul-incessantly

then the world would 

have been different

and so would have been man

The world would not

have been so frightening

then and men would 

not have been insecure

Power and fear

would not have 

turned into guns

Freedom would not

be known as terror

Locks and patrol

would not have been

synonyms of security

Man and woman

would have procreated

generations of faith

In her silence Hanneke

speaks volumes

engaged in dialogue

her liquid eyes unveil 

answers to questions unasked

Hanneke creates novel

modes of dialogue

gives new meanings

to words

|| Cees Maurick ||

Feet firmly planted on ground

as though they grew

out of the earth

like some forest species of plant

Reflected in his eye

the blue of the sky

turns bluer

From the ocean

the tender-hearted friend

fills his heart

with boundless tenderness

for all

Tired with the world

he seeks haven in the forest

more civilized than the world

of cultured humans

This animal loving hunter

hunts to save the forest

and its denizens

As the talk turns serious

his forefinger describes

an unending whorl

on his temple

as if tightening the invisible

screws of his brain

To indicate money

he rubs the tip

of his forefinger

against his thumb

and says-money!

Money and mind-

that is Cees Maurick

money calls for mind

but mind calls for something

that only Cees Maurick knows

His feet

untired like wheels

ever on the move

he often returns

to the forest

to fill his eye and time

From the walls of his

river-front home

heads of deer look

at the goings on with

wondering, innocent eyes

on the tables sit birds

turning wood into

living branches

The day spent

unraveling the intricacies

of commerce

the evening finds him

amidst his animals-caressing

a forehead

the body

the fur

as though their lifeless

bodies hold the joy of touch

For children the hand

of an angel

for friends the hand

of a friend

for dear ones

the touch of living love

the worst enemy

of the violent 

Countering worry with laughter

he dissolves his laughter

in wine sharing his energy

and friendship with

friends and family

he is the liquid

that lubricates the machinery

of his business

His home a strange aviary

of forest and water bird

models and masks

He loves his forest animals

like friends

and like his home

loves the forest

I often wonder-

is the forest his home

and animals his friends?

|| my silence ||

No No destructive effort

will disfigure words

inscribed on my heart

Even in their absence

my heartbeat 

shall hear the meaningful

echo of words

The days will

have no horizons

no mornings

no evenings

songs of love

will dissolve

in birdsong

and will awaken you

to attain your being

In their cooing

will echo songs

of longing

no dew ...

no sound ...

only my silence

to fill the endless void.

|| scent of love ||

for the bliss of your breath

i make the wind read

the letter of your voice

i make the trees read

the letter of your voice

and become one with your being

i make the sun read

the letter of your voice

and live the warmth of your love

i make the clouds read

the letter of your voice

and snuggle in your promising embrace

my eyes descend

into the mirrors

of the pores of your

reflection

from your intoxicating
as mahua blossoms words

i inhale the scent of love.

|| your words are registered ||

words

speak not only outside

but also inside

in fact

they open up inside

before speaking outside

sometimes inside the intellect

sometimes deep inside the mind

self-conversation

before any external conversation

words

have their own way

of recording everything

which is unique

like, inside me

they have

recorded you

and more than myself

i feel you

further deep inside me

where your words

are registered

with their meaning

and my heart

has changed into

a soul mate diary

for you to read.

|| language of love ||

at the beginning of

the century i place

my luscious lips

for words of love

with the cordiality of love

i will create a language

for a heartfelt dialogue

with the heart

alive to emotions

succulent, credible

so men of this earth

would know to love

their earthy women

who create the world

and men.

at the beginning of the century

i select love

for the span of the century

love can save - time

and in saving time

the century

love knows

to safeguard from the whims

of history time

and the historic inscription

on the heart of those

who love time.

for this century

we will create

a script

to unveil the language of love

as the script of touch

manifests the language of love

the unspoken intimacy of sweetness.

|| i chose you ||

to write together that

short and sweet word

love

on the sea-shore

i chose you

as one choses

a virginal sheet of paper

new dreams chose you

to put the moonlight

of the full moon

in the eyes of your heart

to place in your palm
the melting warmth of love

the glowing elixir of my palm

i have chosen you

for your are

the companion of my soul.

|| shadow ||

in the sun's shadow

is the sun

in the reflection

of light is light

in it's heat

the sun

multiplies its thirst

and bathing in the river

drinks it

the river

gathers within its soul

the sun

and lives

the divine body of light

to ease the agony

of the earth

the river becomes

one with the earth

as i become

one with you.

|| dream seed ||

in anticipation i

sow dream seeds

amidst contrary winds

i capture gossamer

silk cotton flocks

in my fist

tears washed

the doorstep of the heart

with words lips

painted alpana

and my heartbeat

sings new songs

to the beat of anticipation

anticipation is alive

with the soft footfall of arrival

the shadow of steps

the evocative call of palms

in the niche of eyes

pours the light of

the coming of the beloved

and a sun world glows

in the hush of anticipation

flashes the echo of arrival

intimate waves float

in the vacuum

an eternal world

begins to settle within me

steady as stars your

eyes watch the earth

of my eye celebrate seasons

of rainbow emotions

quiet, my eyes watch

the heavenly luminance

the constant orbit

of your love.

|| know you ||

the flower knows its scent

water knows its own taste

the earth knows

to drink water

and water knows

to seep into the earth.

the flower knows

its fruit, its seed

the winds know

the monsoon clouds

as clouds know

the thirst of the earth

words know their meaning

seasons know their

flowers, fruit, crops

rain knows its insects

i know you.

tendrils know the desire of the root

seeds sense the scent of seasons

the earth knows the eagerness of the seed

as the soul knows the desire of the body

the body knows the comfort of the soul

i know you.

|| magic of the body ||

in the first thrill of love

the wakeful eye

within knew

the magic of the body

within the body

overcome with a

novel sensation silent

words squealed

and were born

in the bliss of flight

i tasted the elixir of my own body

on the lips of the beloved.

moon gazing eyes

knew the pleasure of the moon

with your touch

i drank the

manna of love

i want to contain

in my touch

every pore of your being.

|| sunrise touch ||

you disappear

the world

stands still

only breath

crosses time

unaffected

after you

song sounds

insipid

in the folds

of your handkerchief

are layers

of your touch

and i feel you

rising in me

like the sun.

Happy Birthday !

|| spring monsoon clouds ||

on the space of

your heart

my breath
writes spring

as winds write spring

on the earth

love is born

of the soul-womb

in the eyes of

lips wait dreams

memorable as the first kiss

the blade of grass

pushes the mountain of

darkness beyond the sky

in the darkness of silence

i dissolve the sooty

smoke of sadness and boredom

with the ink of your love

i write on the winds

songs

that reach the ocean

and raise a storm

that reach you

and the life-laden

spring-monsoon

clouds rush in.