Wednesday, October 26, 2016

|| peter brands ||

Peter, you have words, cordial and trustful

While, in adverse times, folks sleep in peace
and dream of good times to come
You keep awake, devising ways to
protect the honest, and the simple
from adversity

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

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

Thursday, October 20, 2016

|| parchment of mind ||

Letter from
Homeland spoken

Word of prayers
In letters

Eyes of dream open
Silent obscurity of words

Their gentle touch leaves on paper
A stroke of supple speech

Glacier of mind
Makes abode in phrasing
Becoming dazzling sentinel
Keep standing, eyes struck
Against the darkness

Opposing time
Piety of the letter

Like seasoned leaves
On mins-journal’s plain pages
Like your bosom pulsating in words
Parchment of mind
Augmenting and shrinking
Through seasons of inner pilgrimage

Word of letters are scattered
Flourishing in the heart, flowering reminiscence

From the mind, squeezed out like honey
Words of letter, steeped in spiritual memory
The letter of Our country
A letter that came from home

Friday, October 14, 2016

|| one’s own ||

Like fallen seasons
dreams collapse
in corners of eyes
in solitary foreign exile

In the heat of the sun
dreams flare up
life creating vision anew
like foreign friends

Alone, in a foreign land
memory comes
frightened thoughts, darkness running, even from the moon

Alone the whole full-moon-night
like a deeper meaning
of the word: downcast

Wishes keep one searching for new leaves
From which new hope can be born
A blue-print for life to approach Life

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

|| michael sloary ||

Michael Sloary
the walking Bauxite
of the Surinamese land
his words the pure
gold from the golden
womb of the earth

Michael Sloary
the nomadic Michael Sloary
his head drinks in the
wine of the tropical sun

He rests not
under the shade of
the trees burning
words drive him on
Sloary is their trusty companion

With the echo of bird-song
he creates his poems that
speak of the shriek within
sometimes of the joy
of the heart

Michael Sloary, like a miner he mines
the minds of the people
of this 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

Oh, Michael, shooting roots of
insight into the earth
he wants to grow
the tree of Surinamese life

He hears the call of
the blank page, his hand writes
the language of peoples' heart
he has words for the gurrachbi
as he has a tale to tell
in the newspaper

Michael Sloary,
words fresh and new
like the sunshine
or the gold
of a new-dug mine.

Saturday, October 1, 2016


love blooms and blossoms 
settles in the eye 
one with the 
rhythm of breathing 

words dissolve 
in their own rhythm 
as raag in words 
as words in raag 

in the face of opposition 
love has created love 
it echoes and men forget themselves 
only love remains 

as the sea remains the sea 
the earth, the earth 
the sun, the sun 
water, though becomes thirst 

i am the grain of your love 
and you the faith of my heart 
i am the harvested grain 
stored in the granary of memory 

you wish to live in me 
the beauty of love, and i
desire to drink the wondrous 
pleasure of your beauty