Live the Tiny Brilliance

Read Munayem Mayenin's Interview in The Guardian: Sept 15, 2007    The Observer . Interview: August 5 2008 on BBC Asian Network: Nikki Bedi Show And Interview on British Satellite News An Interview in The Sentinel Poetry Quarterly and in the same publication read his Poetry  To Read Latest Works and News: My Dun Eidean  A Wealth of Dart I will be taking part at Artfest: Birmingham’s Big Art Festival Weekend 2008: 12-14th September, doing events on different things to do with words for adults as well as for children.

http://www.artsfest.org.uk

This poster is done by Ron Nichols

My Dun Eideann

Dùn Èideann forever making the sky cry
Majestic hilly reaches castling the heaven
When I drove through you you caverned
In my depth so silently that words almost
Hurt and in rain there was still sun raining
On you shining this glory of high-heaven

You radiant glistening a goddess out of sea
White silver black purple in rain-sun duo
Silver a wet mirror of the crying sky happy
Even in crying for who will not cry if they
Loved you and if they want to hold you
I was crying almost as I left through your
Heaven-sprung open doorway to the north

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A Traveller’s Guide to Pollypsychophinadalium

I

It is time to install the river
Instil distil and steel-flow it
In flowing still spring clear
It is time to install the river
Flowing in the spring’s birdsongs
Inside the toxic landscape
It is time to clay out the river again
Now dead a dampen-doll-figurine
And form its magical aqua-phoenix
Again to rise up and clasp us high
Into a seismic overhauled tidal burst
Currents cosmosis of osmosis an orion-flow
Cure of coral rebirth redeeming us inside
There is this core calling us out calling
It is I who need to river up and rise
And respond to the tidal song
It is I each and each all in all it is I
In every shade and shadow
In every broken note and notepad
That need to river up and rise
And respond to the tidal song
It is time to install the river
Flowing in the spring’s birdsongs

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Katsarine

She is cheeky not monkey
She comes and flirts with
You plain and simple she
Is a black and white cat

Her eyes are gold-ringed
At far end of a long body’s
Back is her long black tail
All velvet soft and shining

She has to have a name and
She is no Jenny Any Penny
But she is titled Katsarine
She is really a royal rosey

In her pawsey kind of way
She looks in black through
Ring fenced gold she meaws
In white giving you black

Chandelier kind of sonar songs
And you pick her and stroke
Her and she stays on your lap
A real spoilt silk a living ghazal

She thinks deep thoughts and
She calls you by names that
You may not necessarily grasp
But you meaw and she would

Show you that she thinks you
Are a cat just like her and that
She likes your milk that you
Placed on the bowl and she

Is the light in the evening’s
Dark and she leaves you soft
Warmth in her cat-caspian
Calls of her depth that keep

You thinking of her when
She is gone and you think
And you wish that she was
Back for she is a Katsarine

A Wealth of Dart

"River of Dart, Oh River of Dart!
Every year thou claimest a heart."

Come ride with me on this Kayak
Built on my ribcage’s ragged flow
Come ride with me on this rising
Whitewater risking all that you have
For I have searched for whitewaters
I have sung the rapids and all their

Physical force-rings that craft all the
Waves I have marked their gradients
Constrictions obstructions and their
Pulsating rates of flows all that form
The flow of gold in liquid forms you
Come and ride with me on this Kayak

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The Fogheld Oak Tree Poem
 

A poem floats
Like a fogheld oak tree
On and by the Thames Path
Where the invisible City Monster
Nestles the fog of noises
That hooms relentlessly
Hoooooom! Hoooooom! Hoooooom!

Under the fog we swim
Ignoring the background fog
The monster ensures
We do not forget
That it is there
Right on the water and over the land
Fed by speed boats and shipturants
Police Patrol and traffic
Machines and men married
In an unholy conjecture
The horrible wedding songs
Beat our hearing to half death

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And Ionnet

98
Mayan thista lusnam mayan thista izzay an ninson imsbinyan
Ofso an imsbinyan universum mayan yona reinisma asri an Timean
Quinsima onim thista lusnam yona arim iminam hartsimsi’s

Destarseek iminam imsul’s silpetral-scencium tara-burstim
Flowina I aimsa wymth yona inom yona forte yona eternum
Eternum inom yona inom yona inom wymth yona imsama

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The Love Song of Lazarus Imsanlucius Eponiafrock

(After T. S. Eliot: a tribute)

''Hokisna donum I shosama yona hokisna muchim lusim formamain
thista awsamara harikenadi enta iminam hartsimsi I itim onlisan
megnetaisama iminim aquan totum flowinia entotum an haistimsi

lunataidim sarklisamain yona entotum an sonarlusong enta
mauthsoo ofso tham gashramain rivaranium risuamain
totum tham osanoma ofso lusim itim yona arim! Itim yona arim!''


Let us bell the feet, Alpha and Omega,
When the esplanade is melting in moon light
Against the glistening mist over the unrestful rising sea
Unlike daily bloods on the aprons of beer-face-nurses
Let us walk through the sure bloom of silicamond radiance
The restless rebound
Of the tangled up tight-nights of despair or drinks
And of made up cheap champagne-myths
And the clichéd feel-good dead fishes
Where streets that run like dark banana skins
Waiting to take us all in a free fall of doom
Of no rise up of incisement or intent
To lead you to a Himalaya-question:
Yes, oh, yes, do not forget to ask: ‘What if?’
Let us just go and grab and sip our visit


In the King Midas market people buy and sell
Talking of ghosts and demons not Sistine Chapel

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