Aung San Suu Kyi Poems

Where the Peace, Suu kyi…? Aung San Suu Kyi You were the bird of peace of our mind… Now, we drive you away Out of the garden of peace of our heart Where we ensconced Gandhi and Nelson Mandela Mother

Fingers printed on face they offered apologies for the mudslide after the typhoon standing on the mound of twisted bones; the state had the right to trample and extinguish a bright flame, a meteor, streak of dissent only the sect,

We live, we learn, We love, we care. In the process of learning, We make mistakes again and again. But then from these mistakes we learn again. In the journey of life, we fall, But then we rise Even if

There was once a minister who moved to San Francisco to pastor a little church. The name of that little church was Emmanuel which means “God with us”. There was an atmosphere about that little church that said to strangers

Running, running through the crowded San Isidro de El General town square, awash in punishing heat and light, and you just miss your bus, the only bus home, now 55 Kilometers stare you in the face. You buy a torta,

In a community deep in the Southern land of feed corn and cotton The more basic things of life are best treasured and unforgotten Newspapers and Radios, Jack Rocks and Jump Ropes, Pop Whips, Hide and Seek In child’s play,

It twitched on the day when clouds were born the day when the fool notion of gender, took a flight the poll was asked, changing lives to monstrosity … Are you a man, or a woman? a gay, a bisexual

Our lives are so filled with negatives that we often forget about the positives We have convinced ourselves that bad news sells, and good news is a side story at best As parents, we love our children dearly, but we

San Francisco Skyline Trembles and quakes with pinpricks of light, Throbbing multi-million galaxies of secret lives Ebbing and absorbing one another in the crisp California night Speeding towards the Mission in a rust bucket, Old Haggard hearse of jovial youth

Hi Daniel, There once was a man living high on a mountain whose name was Harry Mt. St. Helen was threatening to blow its top, and everyone started to worry Harry had been there 60 years and thought he would

From the streets of San Francisco in 1984 There came a stranger knocking on our door He was known by all in the neighbourhood His name was Reuben and he wanted food We gave him a meal and it was

A primordial fear takes over. These pathways are not reaching anywhere. I am leaving blank papers for you. This was dark matter, you start dying from birth. A fireball sails through you reaching for the shadow of the soul. The

Introduction: It comes in a small cylinder of white rolled cover, a-four-inch-processed-tobacco- leaves, which becomes very active from slow and low combustion sustained by heat. Call it cigarette- maybe cigar-spit tobacco, perhaps, hookahs, menthol, bidis, clove or kreteks, probably, shisha

I’ve fallen in love with the poet In all its dimensions rippling across the pool of time, incarnate in its everything the rosy cheeked and wet lipped girl rattling existential verse over the clamor of a twelve car train, barreling

The man pushes the other man in a wheelchair Down a dreary Salford road, avoiding kerbs, talking Always talking, talking of nothing, talking of everything, What it takes and never gives back. The load. With wheels of fire and halos

How can I tell the tale of my little heart? Stuck snugly on the tip of my tongue, since long. Strengthen me; further delay may hurt her heart. Give me clues to confess, without prolonging. Even though we are so

The blood on the streets Homes broken apart Everyone shouting for the help of God The horn is blown And the Civilians and soldiers set their guns and weapons Bullets elevating through the air into the body Children crying in

To waste hours eliminates days smell those flowers hold that gaze to bite your tongue, sometimes is best forgive the young as they learn the rest To blindly go ignoring choice with volume low that inner voice To needlessly worry

Oh and after all this time I’ve known you it never did cross my mind that you could be the one for me, was it Jupiter or was it Venus that has opened the door to love now after all

South Atlantic an ancient and ominous death trap awaits unexpecting ships and planes and tonight it has claimed many lives again…well it is a mystery that most likely will remain unexplained buried deep in sin…however I have heard it’s the

We love, we laugh We dance, we remember Music is enough For us to engender Our ancestors’ wisdom Leading life for freedom After rebalance Of nature is back Our inherited glance The sacred walk Sustainability Living ability We carry on

Oh and after all this time I’ve known you it never did cross my mind that you could be the one for me, was it Jupiter or was it Venus that has opened the door to love now after all

Man is man’s foe, Woman is woman’s foe. But a child is a child’s pal. Innocent wins innocent – Knowledge defeats knowledge, Widens the gap between the wise men, Wrecking their heads, To satisfy their revenge! One that burns the

The way rapists minds have taken shape- A girl is to blame for her own rape, To these animals so lecherous What are we girls-strictly diurnal creatures? Rapists say,“Girls can’t step out at night, A girl attacked should quietly allow

Love hugs the heart, Like morning mist, That cloaks in magic, With a tender moment, To kiss the soul awake. The nourishing dew, Of the mysterious mist, Feeds the soul, With a love so tender, In landscape of the eyes.

When mired in jadedness Or weary of Truth, I sleep babe-like in your nakedness, O bosom pal of my youth; The nature of mothers in you Suckling my sleep! Or when dark empires above Shut my mind, I star-and-moon sketch

From my late night reads , To our play .. You were there , Little devil … With that gleam in your eyes And sound of your whistle . My closest buddy in animals disguise, I talked , you listened

I try to sleep; but still wonder, where this hole is, The roof seems okay; the moon rays can’t penetrate, Nevertheless, every dawn; my bed is wet, the floor dry, Have consulted the carpenter, Inquired from the engineer on any

As twilight calls curtain to end the day, I feel so small, I tower among ants, As I reckon the faults from where I lay, For nightly rest, even as regret rants; The bells at dusk, now toll for glory

On the Eastern horizon, a deep gray cloud appears, in the shape of a graceful swan. A slivered harvest gold new moon is playing peek-a-boo High, prevailing air currents keep “Swan Cloud” slowly moving across the star studded sky-line. “New

Spiral staircase, Damp wooden floor, Mighty spider’s shelter- an ominous grey cobweb, Flakes of wall Integrated the mansion. The landlord was superannuated from life Without taking his pension. The dark lonely aisle struggles To utter some bright stories, Throwing light

They called me a lunatic They told that my ideas were unrealistic They concluded that my opinions were inappropriate They condemned me that I was doomed to hell I knew that I was sane I told myself that my ideas

Why do we suffer? What’s the point? People are born with terrible conditions, live lives of torment and pain. Die painful horrible deaths. Why? Why would a God created such conditions? To teach us lessons? Seems cruel I think. Wouldn’t

Dressed in my black clothes With Maryanne in her black hose We sit in the Beatnik Café Our faces grotesque Over candle glow And while Maryanne asks a question The answer to nobody knows My eyes fall upon the bongo

How I sought sleep to ward off thoughts of you At my door rapping, tapping, while I toss, Much like the raven of the Poet Poe, Or thoughts imploring of Lenore, his loss; The night had me, from cup of

In the midst of hazy cloudy and misty morning she appeared like an angel looking at me and smiling.. For a moment It struck to me like an Lightening and my heart started beating the romantic tuning and was feeling

When night will not speak and shoes will float on the water; legs of truth will not move. Latched to absence unreasons held the hands of time. I stopped believing in myself. The genome had come in a bottle. when

When pillows of comfort become your enemy, Understand sorrow is going to be, Life will always check you, Life will always test you, It may try to know how patient or impatient you are, But all life’s long way you

He said it was not easy, Not that easy, writing poetry. But I didn’t think so. (Yeah! I thought of it though.) I sent him my blueprint, He laughed and laughed… It’s not that easy, you see Your’s all wilderness.

Arbor snow of russet, gold falls from the trees, denuded, cold A fairy wind whispers very low ‘The North Wind comes! He soon will blow! ‘ They shiver in silence, feeling raw No sunshine warmth for them to draw Branches

‘Go Back To Where You Came From’ is the title of the story, and it deals with much emotion of humanity… same as you and me. And to those with less compassion, understanding and knowledge; of whom there are many,