Supreme understanding

By Mory Keita

The horizon appears far above my head,

The sun gleams without end behind cloudy curtains,

Like some eternal flame blown by an eternal being.

Beyond my sight lie comets, stars and distant galaxies.

Is it reasonable if one seek things beyond one’s  comprehension?

If one was to ponder upon the unknown, the unseen?

If one was to say, all things can be seen through the mind?

I have seen a ladder spreading from continent to continent,

I have seen all there is to be seen on earth, and I wasn’t amazed.

Should I build a ladder spreading from earth to heaven?

Should I climb it to see the farthest corners of the universe?

Is it possible to understand the universe, to spread it across a table?

Perhaps, there is no such things as supreme understand; not in this world.

Supreme understanding

Regarde mon amour

Par Mory Keita

Regarde dans  mes yeux  mon amour,

Vois-tu cette lumière  éclairant mon visage,

Sur le flan droit de ma joue, me vois-tu sourire ?

Regarde le ciel étoilé, et les oiseaux qui chantent,

Entends-tu ton nom sur leurs petites lèvres ?

It chantent de ta beauté, et seulement  d’elle.


English translation


Look in my eyes my love
,Do you see that light shining on my face,
On the right flank of my cheek, you see me smile?
Look at the starry sky and the birds sing,
Do you hear your name on their lips?Sing your beauty It, and only her.

Regarde mon amour

Tales of an idle man

By Mory Keita

For many a century, I have plucked and pocked my nose,

Slept and visited place I did not visit or sleep at.

I have visited Caesar’s palace in Rome and sat at his dinner table.

I flew on a flying carpet to India and sat atop the Taj Mahal.

I have lived fairy tales and saved a princess from a evil dragon.

Then relaxing my muscles, I suddenly was transported in Egypt,

And felt in love with Cleopatra, fought with Mark Antoine and Caesar.

In short I have lived and traveled across the Milky Way in a hot bathtub,

And I have lived my life to the fullest like the great Ulysses.

Written in response to  Magpie Tales: Mag 28.

Tales of an idle man

Spring of youth

By Mory Keita

The springs and summers of our days are spread across this seashore

Like some lonely drunkard lost in the sweetness of his beverage.

Shall we see ere the end those unseen moons and sunsets,

Those wasted times lived with dullness in lieu of vagabondage?

Perhaps there is redemption, a magic defying the laws of physic,

At some place I have heard of long ago during some trivialities;

At some shrouded place pours water from a fountain that renew the vow of youth.

Perhaps we might find it accompanied by some old companions  

If we sail the sea and travel across earth like Jason and the Argonauts.

Guided by venus, we may find that trio of one-eyes crones,

Those ageless creatures said to know everything that lies on earth.

Will thou come with me delicate flower of saintly days?

Let us sail hand in hand and heart in heart under the moonlight

Like sunrises and sunsets, springs and summers to that oasis of youth.

Let us run away from these insolent sights of youths and nurses.

Under thousands smiling faces of constellations and stars,

Walking On the trail of Venus listening to love songs and tales of heroes,

Perhaps we may found that fountain of youth and regain our juvenilities

And live those springs and summers that lie across these seas.

It may be we shall not return from this odyssey or find the spring

And live again those unlived days as I forebode,

But we shall see some sparkles of adventurous days we missed long ago.

Shared with One Stop Poetry.

Spring of youth

Staring at a blank paper

By Mory Keita

I stare at a blank paper spreading beneath my pen,

As I ponder upon some lines of little meaning.

Just beside my pen lies another blank paper,

Staring at me with tears as if imploring my mercy,

 Or Waiting for some transforming drops of ink.

I pity it much, for though I would like to fulfill its wish,

My head is as blank as its surface, maybe blanker.

I vainly try to write some lines as a sign of generosity,

But what should I write? How should I begin?

I am not T.S Eliot or a Shakespeare; I am no genius.

I cannot paint on it lines worthy of remembrance,

neither do I wish to abandon it like some worthless junk.

Should I ignore its pleads and shamefully bow my head?

Is it my fault if I cannot write without muse? I know not.

I am not a writer; neither do I intend to become one.

But, as long as I feel a pen in my hand, an inner voice murmurs,

 “You may not be Shakespeare or T.S Eliot or do not wish to be,

But you will always have something to write as long as you believe.”

Now I look at the blank paper beside my pen, still staring at me,

And say to myself “if I have nothing  worthy to write,

I shall write what comes to my mind as long as I breathe.”

Thus, I took my pen and began writing these first lines.

Staring at a blank paper

Hiroshima Today

By Mory Keita


In sky flew a bird-like object like falling star,

The children stood in owe contemplating it.

It was a bird,one they hadn’t seen before,

One which magic they hadn’t experienced yet.

They stood side by side, hands in hand smiling,

Smiling at the odd birds above their heads,

They pointed their fingers at the bird, jumping of joy.

How could they know why it flew in the sky?

They saw the bird dropping an egg-like object,

In their excitements,they jumped and jumped.

Few seconds after the bird-like object reached ground,

And a curtain of smoke and dust covered the visions.

In few seconds, their dreams were gone away,

Their homes and schools were destroyed in fire;

Their lives were taken in a war they had no part in.

What began as a peacefully day ended an atrocity,

Anything that flies isn’t indeed a bird.

What happened to theirs dreams? Why them?

Has mankind lost its humanity?

I would like to thank Sam Lui for reminding many others and myself about history.

i encourage you to check Sam's poem from which I got my inspiration.

Sam writes: August 6th is Hiroshima today, and marches across the world have signified this solemn occasion - commemorating the atrocities caused by the use of catastrophic nuclear weapons on Japan during World War II. Please take a moment to consider this: we are one human race, we share thoughts and feelings, dreams and desires. War is an evil. Together, we can stop the rise of nuclear weaponry. Spread peace, not destruction.
Add you plea at www.millionpleas.com.

Shared with one stop poetry.

Hiroshima Today

Carpe diem

By Mory Keita

When ye shall grow old from old ages,

In thirty falling seasons of leafy days,

Ye shall not be yerself as ye desire,

Under leaves yer soul shall grow old too:

In summer ye shall walk under falling leaves,

Seeking yer old self under breezy winds,

But ye shall not find muse in its beauty,

For yer summer days shall grow old too.

In winter ye shall walk under falling snow,

Ye shall be alone in cold days in a coat,

Alas! cold shall  whelm yer endurance,

For yer bones shall grow old of old days.

Beware of old ages, live yer youth in warmth,

For ye shall never live these days once more.


Modern Version  ( i have been told that i am too much old-fashioned.)



When you will grow old from old ages,

In thirty falling seasons of leafy days,

You will not be yourself as you desire,

Under leaves your soul will grow old too:

In summer you will walk under falling leaves,

Seeking your old self under breezy winds,

But you will not find muse in its beauty,

For your summers days will grow old too.

In winter you will walk under falling snow,

You shall be alone in cold days with a coat,

Alas! Cold shall over power your endurance,

For your bones will grow old of old days.

Beware of old ages, live your youth under sun,

You will never live these seasons once more.

Carpe diem

I Missed His Book , But I Read His Name

A parody of John Updike's poem I Missed His Book, But I Read His Name By Mory Keita

Though author are a savage people

To be guillotined if you can,

I’d like to spare the Indian,

M. Anantanarayanan.

I picture him as short and cherry.

We’d meet, perhaps, in Bombay.

I’d yell, with clumsy elan,

“Ah, Antanarayanan --

I’ve heard of you, the Bounty hunter once bade

denars on your head, a

Bountiful sum and renown. “

And Anantanarayanan

Would bride me with a novel

And sign his name – that unmelodious span

Of ‘a’s and ‘n’s more lovely than

‘In xanadu, Kuban khan smoking pipe”--

Aloud to me all season. I plan

Henceforth to spare the life

Of Anantanarayanan----

M.Anantanarayanan.

Below is the original poem by the great John Updike.

I Missed His Book But I Read His Name by John Updike

Though authors are a dreadful clan
To be avoided if you can,
I'd like to meet the Indian,
M. Anantanarayanan.

I picture him as short and tan.
We'd meet, perhaps, in Hindustan.
I'd say, with admirable elan ,
"Ah, Anantanarayanan --

I've heard of you. The Times once ran
A notice on your novel, an
Unusual tale of God and Man."
And Anantanarayanan

would seat me on a lush divan
and read his name -- that sumptuous span
of 'a's and 'n's more lovely than
"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan" --

Aloud to me all day. I plan
Henceforth to be an ardent fan
of Anantanarayanan --
M. Anantanarayanan.

Note: This poem is one of my favorites. i like it so much that i sometime recite it in bed. it happens that updide didn't intend to write this poem to the more know M.Anantanarayanan but another person with the same name
.
Shared with the One Stop Poetry community.

I Missed His Book , But I Read His Name

The road ahead

                                                        By Mory Keita

I feel life in my skin and heart,

I feel its winds blowing north, south, west and east,

I feel its sorrow consuming my heart, darkening my soul.

I see life, atop mountains and down valleys,

I see its tears falling down valleys like a river,

I see its roads through the steps of ancients and stories,

I see its ladder spreading from earth to heavens.

Knowing the road ahead shivers my heart,

I know it will be hard and steep to climb,

I know my destination is far and uncertain,

But I shall not give up; I shall climb and climb,

I shall advance against the wind, I shall withstand the sorrow.

For I know that I am destined to greatness,

I know that I will achieve my full potential.

I believe that if the lord, the great architect of

The universe wishes, I shall achieve my goal.              

The road ahead