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.