Here goes the 116th Boston Marathon!

I am really fed up with the rat race
Almost tired & frustrated?
Darling! Please do not force this weakling
And I am so sorry as you spent a lot for me
In vain the multivitamin capsules
Five hour energy drinks & Viagra?
I'll be in the crowd if you like as a spectator!
You can take some close-up photographs
From the digital camera,
Our daughter sent from Australia.
At least we could pacify ourselves
That we have seen a true Marathon
For the first time in our life?

['We want people to know it's hard to go through something like this, but you can keep fighting and can continue to lead a positive life.'-Ed Feather]

*A humble dedication to the courageous 39 year-old Ed Feather Esq. of Framingham, Massachusetts who runs for the Marathon to honor his beloved wife, who died of ovarian cancer.My innocent prayers for the individual Poet-God with a heart to make him the winner Supremo!

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poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Stars in your eyes

Oh! It's really amazed me and a surprise too.
My fellow poet friend Max.Reif visited me on the 23 rd of Nov.'07
Early in the morning.(Both of us wished a happy thanksgiving!)
We had coffee and few doughnuts in a small restaurant in Anaheim.
I wanted to tell him that I have seen him before.
Yes my dear friend, I recount my previous births and I am sure that we have met in several occasions in different places.
This good practice goes forever and all of a sudden we met in the U.S.A.
You brought your precious guitar and a tiny mouth-organ
And you sang 'Stars in your eyes' in your deep clear voice.
That's your own golden lyrics.
Yes my dearest, I saw thousands of twinkling stars in your transparent blue eyes and I hear the sweetest melody that comes with your dark shadow
Wherever I go in this fruitless journey.

* Dedication to my friend Max!
In this cycle of births and deaths we meet in different names?

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Is this the law-abiding Amerika?

Last night at 11 o'clock my venomous relative
Pot bellied insipid ' Prince AlKapone' leaving his bandit Queen in the limousine and did a gatecrash to my halcyon cottage
with his graduate Aerospace son and the intending lady doctor his swollen headed daughter,
They quarreled in a harsh language with us
And the thuggery Napoleon Bonapart slapped my innocent wife on her left cheek.
(Lord Jesus advised to offer the other side.)
He threatened me in a firm voice' I won't let you live here a long time.'
Then I said 'Are you Christopher Columbus? '
What is the use of these feeble hands of a scribbler
Who is not able to strangle an enemy in right time?
And the final episode his naughty son grabbed my collar and snatched my 22 carat gold chain.
(This is the only wealth belongs to me.)

* They knew that my political asylum case is processing now and they did this purposely to draw us for a quarrel to highlight.

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I Cannot Whistle Now Like In My Younger Days?

['I 'll pour out my spirit upon all men
your sons and your daughters will prophesy;
your young men see visions,
and your old men will dream dreams.'
This is what I will do in the last days,
God says; Jesus would be handed over to you;
and you killed him, by letting sinful men nail him to the cross.]-The New Testament

When youth practise football in the ground
I just watch them sitting on this wooden bench.
I feel like an old Referee and they don't hear my
broken whistle even if I blow louder?
O I am a colour blind instead of the green flag
I wave the red but they don't mind
and play their own game.
I walk towards the goal post
Remember those days my strong kicks
Ball that flies through the eyes of the net
But now I entangle in the whole net
and no strength to loosen the knots?

[...] Read more

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I seek my little Hometown

*['Sleep, little darlings, I watch while you slumber.Oh sun! Divine sun! Ripening the pumpkins everyone.']-'P'ere Goriot', Honor'e de Balzac

I peeped into the vast World map
and found my pearl like tiny island Sri Lanka
in the Indian Ocean!
And I marked my Hometown
'Katubedda', actually we had a house of our own there
Poor Mom built that from our loving Father's
Working compensation, who died
under an Aircraft hanger at the age of 32.
There's a famous University in Katubedda
and luckily I got an opportunity to jump there
for a brief course 'Radar Observation & Plotting'
It's a part of my seafarer career.
Now I observe my poor companions there
and plot their whereabouts in my inquisitive mind?
Their day to day greetings, smiles and cries
I see and hear on my heart screen
Black & White!

[...] Read more

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From the diary of a Dowager

She is still smart in her forties and lives in her manor childless.
The land, poultry, vineyard and the whole wealth,
She holds from her deceased husband.
The old parents and the servants lived together.
Her brother-in-law, husband's elder brother
Who was a retired war veteran a senile lives behind the manor in the old haystack.
She doesn't like to marry again and refused all the proposals the parents brought.
'I live my entire life in single' She grumbled.
The classical music gives her courage to pass the time.
Her senile brother-in-law who died in sleep and they buried him near by the haystack.
Exactly after a fortnight of the funeral the complaint was made by a servant that she was pregnant by the deceased Master.
The lady was shocked and she is very kind and promised the servant to adopt the child after the birth.
She adopts the servant's beautiful daughter.
And the servant took hands the old Gardner?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Krishna Rajan; My Friend's Daughter in Kerala, India

Somarajan!
We worked together in port of Salalah
Sultanate of Oman.
Still he works there
And I am here.
Krishna; His daughter's going to marry in August.
O the small girl who contributed the cover illustration for my poetry anthology.(Translation of Isikawa's Sad Toys)
Happy to hear your wedding, daughter I wish you all the best!
Your Dad is a good friend of mine that you know
And I hope his dreams come true soon.
He's my computer 'Guru' and unless his guidance
I could have never come to a poetry site?
Not only that he introduced me an Indian Rum
'Old Monk'. O still I feel that smooth hangover.
There is a vast distance in between Pacific and Indian Ocean.
On that auspicious day perhaps a guest in your proximity
Who visits there without an invitation on behalf of me.
I am sure you all give him a friendly smile.
Enjoy the life though it's not a silk road!

[...] Read more

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Fernandez; Hispanic tutor for Mathematics

He's a part-time teacher for Mathematics.
But I go there to learn Spanish.
He resembles the former Chilean Ruler Augusto Pinochet
But very kind.
We started the Spanish abesedario. (alphabet)
'A for Amor,
That means love
Very common isn't it? '
He introduced me Maria Luisa.
'We are living together
And she's from Peru.'
She came towards us wearing a see through gown.
She looks like the lady in one of Paul Gauguin's prominent paintings.
I had two tumbler gulps of Tequila and my head spins.
Master sniffed and said; 'Postponed the classes and we do some other day.'
He wants me to write something special of love in his notebook
And offered me a Mascara pencil.
I wrote few lines.
'When the handsome poverty peeps through your shattered window
Beautiful love flees from the back latch door.'

[...] Read more

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A letter like a poem

Really I feel this is not a resignation
And some kind of a gratitude.
The destiny has forced us to leave Anaheim
And we have to reach Corona soon.
I am so sad to leave 'Montessori at Elm'.
Because it's my life school and I learned a lot
Mixing with dolls like kids.
I take this opportunity to thank you very much for your hospitality
Given to me in my hard times and I never forget that huge help.
Also I never forget the comfort I had under the shady trees at 'Elm'.
Please convey my loving regards to the kind staff
And specially for my loving precious kids and their parents too.
I end this brief letter with a tear dropp in my eye
And I am terribly sick these days.
I wish you all the best and a rapid progress to the school.
Thank you very much,
Yours very truly............................*

* My beloved spouse sketched this letter in our mother tongue
And she wants to dedicate this poem-letter to Ms.Cassendra.Wijewickrama

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The frozen death in a quiet winter night!

['You can choose to live your life to your own agenda with a sense of personal purpose that gives your life ventures meaning and a feeling of fulfillment_This is called being at cause living from the inside out creating the life and reality you want.']-David R.J.Powell

Skeletal cypress trees mourn
for their offspring
At a stretch sleep the countless fallen leaves,
Quiet the hazy night and a small drizzle
with crispy snow that covers the helpless burial grounds?
I hear their babyish cries but I am voiceless?
I took out my pocket book and the pencil stub
and I address to my poor poet-God!
While a tear dropp hangs in my eye.
For you, I scribble this line Sir!
O I witnessed the frozen death
in this quiet winter night?

for my poet friend Pranab Chakraborty in gratitude!
Who's translated my few poems into his mother tongue Bengali and already published them in his co-editing magazine.

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