Ordeal By Cab Driver

Gloria Susindra frustrated said
“Indian cab drivers in melbourne
are effing idiots. Ungrateful
low lives who should be thankful

they have a job to do instead
of always cheating the fare n
taking the wrong way. Seriously idiots.”

How many times
bule (expatriates)
in Jakarta Indonesia
suffer a similar fate?

Let us not
count the times.

Let us be grateful
for all honest
cab drivers.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The bond between a man and his profession is similar to that which ties him to his country; it is just as complex, often ambivalent, and in general it is understood completely only when it is broken: by exile or emigration in the case of one's country, by retirement in the case of a trade or profession.

quote by Primo Levi
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Hot Patch

All the wayward words
mock me for inadequacy.
I remain detached from meaning,
emigrating to eloquence of wordless solitude.
The hymen breaks.
Dumb poems cry. I don’t want to be buried
in ruins of daydreams.

Sandstorms have a strange melancholy, holocaust.
A legitimate uprooting of faith.
Sometimes I feel a hot patch
of sun on my face.
One moon away was my cool,
abode in a green painting,
but the frost never melted.

This darkness is only companion,
I will talk to winds.
The comments on riddles will continue.

[...] Read more

poem by Satish Verma
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How I Wish The Bell Tolls For Me

for whom the bell tolls?
i ask that
it must toll for me,
but the bell never really
toll for me,
always, it tolls for someone else,
a friend for 15 years
a relative close to the family,
a baby newly born in town,
a man conscious of his health,
the non-smoker and non-drinker alike,
the successful politician,
the wife of an expatriate,
the rich gambler, oh, the bell tolls for all of them
and there were banquets and city lights
and eulogies
and expensive garments of the priest

i wish the bell tolls for me,
but who am i to really say?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Turning Gray

You wanted to understand
the tenor of wet, heavy lids ―
that had emigrated from
deep oceanic eyes.

You believed―it will go on
for ever. Roused in peace.
I will listen to the voice of river
lapping at the shores of pain.

Cocoon was lying still, will
not open to us. I was ready
to receive the death at door.
But it was a stripteaser.

The lovers will meet in the
wilderness, ride the lioness
and black berries will go to
moon for the payment of wages.

poem by Satish Verma
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White Rose From The Atlas

Now Paris
Is washing its eyes
With August rain
Paris is now
A woman
A Babylonian bride
Her wedding
Is set on Christmas
I hear youyous in Paris
And emigrants cheering
And applauding
To welcome
These eyes of marble
This is your day woman
You will hug
Another man
A Parisian
Black-feet
Who does not respect
The rain

[...] Read more

poem by Atef Ayadi
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Stargazers

Cast upon Earth, born into matter
Given 5 senses n’ “The Breath of life”
Here, ‘til we ascend “Jacob’s ladder”
Here to savor human bliss n’ strife

We stand upon the Earth…you n’ I
Terrestrials bound by law of gravity
We gaze up in awe at an endless sky
We travelers from a dark n’ inky sea

Our hearts long for whence we came
We homesick n’ expatriate stargazers
Hopeful God above our souls’ reclaim
“It is done” cry-out cosmic-trailblazers

We only dance on Earth a short while
Rejoice!
Life on Earths a privilege, not an exile

[...] Read more

poem by Ray Lucero
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The want of love

Brothers and sisters have grown rich
And opted out of my influence.
So is the case with my children too.
My wife has emigrated from me.
I’m no longer in their focus
Nor are they in my focus too.
They and I see each other’s shadow.
I could buy love from the poor
With favours, which are too costly.
I’m desperate for women’s love,
Which is is locked by younger elements.
I could neither give nor get love.
No comfort is as good as love.
The want of love hastens one’s death.
14.03.2009

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Expariate

Privacy,
To ensure;
Expatriate,
To move out;
Indicates,
With frantic efforts!
For the female teacher is now pregnant;
But, this restricted enclave is for the best interest of your love.

Required to pay,
Under it;
Aside,
For the past seventy years! !
And like the muse of your love today;
But the female teacher is now pregnant.

The base,
Operating at the paste of your love;
The figure,
Worked out daily to enhance your name! !

[...] Read more

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To Germany With Love

I am an emigree, I write to germany
In foreign words, a tongue of actuality
Hands in grey gloves
To germany with love
A war between the wars
A war between the wars
Triumph over bygone sorrow
Can in unity be won
Let them all persue this purpose
Till reality is gone
I am an unexpected spy
From the outside of my eye
Translate it first then comprehend
Im here indeed but there I stand
I write to germany, I write to germany
To germany with love, to germany with love
This is the turn of colours
All real, some still unseen
There is no more decision cause theres too much in between
Let us build a nightmare nation

[...] Read more

song performed by Alphaville
Added by Lucian Velea
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Young mother

Young mother
With her leather boots, curves between her legs
Incompressible smile, are you happy or sad?
I tell my love to the wind that breeze your beauty
Innocent Devil Cherubim face
Your body stay, between my hands silky hugs.
What would be of you?
Now that the seasons emigrate.
It left you behind with the love of your child.
Life start young to live old
Only memory stay still
The time rude, without warning
Wake you up to every morning.

poem by Luca Menin
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Rondeau: Retrogressive

A sea squirt's life in larval state
is freely shaped to emigrate.
So nerve cord, tail and tadpole vim
allow one day and night to swim,
a precious chance to vacillate.

A simple eye to navigate
seeks vacant coral real estate.
The choice begins events which dim
a sea squirt's life.

The cord and eye dissociate,
ascidian will vegetate.
The oscillating heart in slim
reflection of life's former whim,
will alternate it's flow to sate
a sea squirt's life.

poem by Diane Hine
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335

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Written at least 50 years ago, this poem has been attributed at different times to J.T. Wiggins (an English emigre to America) , two Americans: Mary E. Fry and Marianne Reinhardt, and more recently to Stephen Cummins, a British soldier killed in Northern Ireland who left a copy for his relatives. Others claim it is a Navajo burial prayer.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Work On Vision

Work on vision,
Move on mission,
Infused with transmission,
Noted with emission,
Moved by emotion,
Presented with your omission,
Added with the transportation,
Subtracted by your action,
Traded with passion,
Backed by infusion,
Packed by the division,
Brewed with an allegation!
Connected by your foundation,
Passed by the immigration,
Coupled with the revolution! !
And like the records of emigration;
But, with your inspiration and,
Of your action like the muse of you application.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Kiss me- HONEY

Kiss me without saying anything,
Kiss me until I forget this world,
Kiss me with rage, we may not get another minute
Tomorrow I may emigrate without knowing where....

Kiss me without saying anything,
Kiss me in top of my desire
Kiss me on my sweet cheeks
Tomorrow I may leave witout knwing where....

Kiss me until the dawn arrives,
Kiss me with limitless passion,
Kiss me at the bride of glory,
Kiss me.... Just Kiss me....

Kiss me without saying anything....

Cos

TOMORROW I DON'T KNOW WHERE I WILL BE....

[...] Read more

poem by Annie Juliet
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United State

Lyrics: daryl hall, john oates
Music: daryl hall
Make an amendment to the constitution
To preserve the state of our union
I stop believing what you say to me
Theres a tragic gap in credibility
When the light is gone from your eyes
And re-entry may be denied
Do I want to expatriate
Or live in the united state
Inflationary insecurity
cause a love aint worth as much as it used to be
Clean break, running away
Should I work it out some way
Watch the tress in the wind when its starting to blow
Is the reason to leave, is it treason to go
Just appeasing you is the wrong thing, I know
Break away!

song performed by Hall & Oates
Added by Lucian Velea
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Emigravit

WITH sails full set, the ship her anchor weighs.
Strange names shine out beneath her figure head.
What glad farewells with eager eyes are said!
What cheer for him who goes, and him who stays!
Fair skies, rich lands, new homes, and untried days
Some go to seek: the rest but wait instead,
Watching the way wherein their comrades led,
Until the next stanch ship her flag doth raise.
Who knows what myriad colonies there are
Of fairest fields, and rich, undreamed-of gains
Thick planted in the distant shining plains
Which we call sky because they lie so far?
Oh, write of me, not “Died in bitter pains,”
But “Emigrated to another star!”

poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Mother to Son

My son has belled the CAT,
But he wants to study at Rotterdam.
I quizzed why you want to go away
, When you have got into top MBA programme,

Right here so near home.
Please don’t leave us alone.
He said, ' Mom the global exposure
I will get there won’t be possible in Indore.

I will be studying with an international community,
With Nobel laureates on the faculty.
It will give an enriching experience.'
But son we will be poorer by several lakhs.

He looked at me with concern in his eyes,
And said I don’t want to stress you guys.
Maybe then I should study here,
I felt happy just to hear,

[...] Read more

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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My eyes whisper...

My eyes whisper lies,
hoodwinked passing.
Comfortable blue chair, bones share in & out.
Blowing faces flee the trees.

You never knew, how to wear their shoes.
Cruel day of raining steps on the melting window
Reflect my ghost,
like a filming pellicle ACTION...

Leaving station, by the host, home of some famous name
I toward east -Transylvanian seasons.
Like vampires, emigrate to mallards.
Lost direction carry by the cloud on the fast sky.

Little child, little child of mine, his face hides.
Between the comfortable laps,
The child cry tears of wet car fur.
On silver stones.

poem by Luca Menin
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Reflection Through World-Breaking Tower

@Burj Khalifa
seen thru its tainted glass thick wall at 48th floor:

the panoramic gulf of Persia
engulfing the breeze from tension neo-political Hermuz Strait;
the magnificent 7-star Burj Al Arab
glittering at the far-flung left shore;
the man-made world map islets,
the Palm, the Atlantis seem all touchable on my finger tips;
the dancing fountains beneath my feet
now taking at rest;
the not-so-rare Lamborghini swerving at the round about
of course by the many have-mores locals;
and the Camry taxi swirled by the desert dust
ready to fetch up the not so have-nots residents;
the sprouting superb malls around the cosmopolitan
haven for all expats mall rats:
the construction cranes, just reborn, alive and lifting!
round the clock moving a sign for just economic recovery
from shark loans, debt beds, credit card's tentacles

[...] Read more

poem by Rommelmarkmarchan Best Poems
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