What's Next, a poem. Indran Amirthanayagam

 

What's Next?

We are not going to give the fellows a pass with expressions of condolence,

minutes of silence, then off they go to the NRA Convention in Houston

while leaving instructions to block the latest attempt to forgive student loans,

increase funds for Covid tests, fund food stamps, allow a woman the right

to choose, and ban littering in national parks, or force the wearing of masks.

I am tired and hungry, friends, repeating the litany, naming all the blockages,

scrimmages, jostling and gerrymandering, mouthing off and filibustering

that we call a democracy. We must ban guns outright. Eliminate any sacred

or sacrilegous right to bear them hidden or not in public. Can you imagine

that Texan law allows for this? That the deranged eighteen-year-old murderer

of nineteen kids and two teachers did not have to account for the guns he used –

albeit against the law by stepping on to school grounds--to massacre and remind

us that we have so much to do to heal first and then build this democracy

to assure the safety of all who live here, so help us God.

Indran Amirthanayagam, c) May 25, 2022

This Time, a poem. Indran Amirthanayagam

 This Time

Horror, foul murder. butchering children, this America always

with us, kept in news clips, remembered where I found myself

the day the music...and all the accumulated rage about innocents

in America, Asia, Europe ,Australia, Africa, will they ever get

justice? Why allow killers to arm? Abbott, do you not feel

any remorse, responsibility as governor letting murderers

roam with handguns, rifles, shot guns, automatic weapons

in your state which has suffered at least three mass killings

over the last two years? When will they stop? Will they ever

stop? Will you at least leave your office and allow somebody

else to ban the sale of guns by executive order? Will all senators,

governors and congressmen who have shouted for the right

to bear arms receive the pink slip at some future ballot box?

How can we clean house of millions of fire arms and fiery

mouths, bragging, blathering blowhards? How can this

poem reach all possible decisionmakers, from school boards

to police chiefs to politicians and judges? How can it be

read on the agenda of the Supreme Court? God, can we make

a difference now, finally, once and for all, find justice and create

a safer, resilient democracy in the United States of America?

                        Indran Amirthanayagam, c) May 24, 2022

Middle East Encounter, a poem: Indran Amirthanayagam

Middle East Encounter

Seeds were roasted on za'atar and grape leaves stuffed

with sweetmeats. Falafel balls rolled on the platter

and hummus and babaganoush sloshed patiently

in bowls as we dipped pita bread and talked of atrocities

from the eternal front, but we spoke with joy as musicians

shook tambours and beat drums, as dancers raised hands

and swirled in front of us, and on arriving home you sent

me the latest articles, what Sunday scribes opined and

human rights groups, their press releases, even the U.N.

chief calling for investigation knowing that a vote

in the Security Council would be vetoed by one

or more of the permanent members. We know

the ritual. We know the score. But we go on,

exhausting all civil means, calling on morality,

shame, writing poems, appealing to the conscience

of presidents and prime ministers, that they insist

on unearthing truth, from where the errant or targeted

bullet came, and who must now take the blame.

Indran Amirthanayagam, c) May 15, 2022

Woman In A Field, Indran Amirthanayagam ( inspired by "Where the Wildflowers Grow" by Victoria Twomey

 

Woman In A Field

I want to paint your sky blue skirt spotted

with hundreds of white islands, ocean on land

before a primrosed field, grass green, hair

a flame, talisman beside my keyboard, gift

received. I thank you now, and dream of

a world beyond my own eyes, of essences,

sky,water, woman, primroses, grass. I say

the peace that came dropping slow drops

for me as well as I gaze on poppies, butter-

cups next to primroses. I can catch them all

in a net of wildflowers, and you how shall

I name your abandon before field and sky wearing

the ocean on your body? How shall I turn away?

Will you walk with me reading these lines?

Indran Amirthanayagam, c) May 5, 2022

FROM FLORIDA, WITH LOVE

 

From Florida, with Love

K.K.M are the initials of the federal judge who just struck down the C.D.C rule

requiring face masks on public transport, buses, trains, planes. K.K.M. says

the C.D.C exceeded its authority and failed to follow proper procedure in setting

the rule, whose target, the pesky Covid 19, is irrelevant in her view. The millon

U.S. dead from various variations, the latest known as BA.2, did not enter

her judgment, could not be admitted into her considered thinking. No, for K.K.M

the rule has been violated, or perhaps misinterpreted in the name of some greater

good, like preservation of life, or supporting the damned Democrats. Yes, folks,

KKM was appointed by the former president, the orange-haired preacher of fire,

brimstone and falsehoods, who tore off his mask on the parapet of the White House

for the world to see ( while gloating). The footer to the palace scene failed to note

that he had just been administered a rare drug that cured him of the virus

that ravaged his fellow Americans. But now, all of this will be corrected,

the rule enforced, and from a federal court in the sunny state of Florida.

                        Indran Amirthanayagam,c) April 18,2022

On International Women's Day: Indran Amirthanayagam

 

On International Women's Day

On this early Spring day in the Beltway I think of all the women

who have woken me up, fed and clothed me, teased and got me

out of bed and into walking shoes, who have inspired my writing

books, who give me a pacific healing embrace when I start to stiffen,

fall into despair; and then I think of women poets who have taught

my lyrics to dance, of Sylvia Plath's rhythms, Emily Dickinson's

ellipses and dashes, of fragments that remain of the enigmatic

Sappho, and then of diplomats and poets, of Rosario Castellanos,

Gabriela Mistral who spread her lyrics in the League of Nations.

So today, friends, I celebrate women who have helped to make

me a poet and diplomat, a boy turned into man, a friend embracing

the child and birth while cries of the murdered are calling out

from the battle fields that engage their troops despite

this day where hope and rhyme entwine.

Indran Amirthanayagam c) March 8, 2022