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Wednesday, April 4, 2012

My First Idioma, poem by Poonam


My First Idioma

Poema, ghazal,
rhymy slime
gather your meaning
substance
 gutterly gathering
taking it
What comes 
Swirving and swimming
And curving
carts too
To receive
and compartir and
Carry on, forth, and with
Final release to further
Ad
Ven
Tures
Out of
Sight
And smell
Out of touch
and feel
A river derci
A bien tot
tottering
Tweetering
Giberry jabbering
Do you
Hear me
Major tom
A toe
Falls L(one)ly
From its crate
Crayola red
tomato
(Monsanto el
diablo
re(a)d)
dead on
Grey roll
Past oil
Streak and
Highway mirage
all
Alone on route 1
South
Left behind
At seventy miles
per hour….
Does any one hear
The moment’s
Non-splat?
That.
 Hear they might
Were they at dawn
At bird call
When birds fill trees and
Clusters of children form
One to one hundred
Crowd the zocalo, the bazaars
Bellow below screeching pajaros
And tilted berets sip
Sip sip
Unawares of slave trading
In their midst
Whilste the seine flows like
Buffalo once did
Like eirie lies
like my birth
When I spoke
Truer
though
No one quite
Got it……
They say
Like
Sixteen
When u first touched me
Like
Two when
I first touched me
And I felt
it
A new
Anew
A
N
E
W
Ness
In me
Out there
Some
Too
Also
that
And then when that
Grew old and forc’d
Dead lying where
Life had grew
Dead lying
Until you and you and you
Reboot circuits
suits
With you
A
Noth
Er
You
An
Other
New
and
The colors of
 The w( hirl’d that
Spins
And turns
But never moves
Further than
I can reach
Slightly still out of
T
O
U
C
h)
orld I give
and take
in mouthfuls
and gest
full ly to
you…
then thank you,
My idioma
Basha bolo na?
Quian karroo
This idioma
Will
Have to do.
C’est un peu de trop chaloh chalehgah.