Thursday, December 24, 2015


the Poet,
weaves words, and renders man
sometimes a composer
a philosopher sometimes, and
sometimes a seeker

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

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

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 ?

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

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)

Friday, September 25, 2015

|| 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.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

|| 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.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

|| 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.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

|| 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-
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.

Friday, July 31, 2015

|| 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

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

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

Thursday, July 30, 2015

|| 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

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

|| 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?

Sunday, May 24, 2015

|| 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.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

|| 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
from your intoxicating
as mahua blossoms words
i inhale the scent of love.

Friday, April 3, 2015

|| your words are registered ||

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

before any external conversation

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.

Sunday, March 29, 2015

|| 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.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

|| i chose you ||

to write together that
short and sweet word
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.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

|| 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.

Friday, March 20, 2015

|| 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.

Monday, March 16, 2015

|| 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.

Friday, February 27, 2015

|| 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.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

|| sunrise touch ||

you disappear
the world
stands still
only breath
crosses time

after you
song sounds

in the folds
of your handkerchief
are layers
of your touch
and i feel you
rising in me
like the sun.

Friday, January 2, 2015

|| 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

that reach the ocean
and raise a storm
that reach you
and the life-laden
clouds rush in.