Sort of a flow wheel
That goes round and round
In a sphere of
thoughts
Forming an areal space
The flow wheel flows
Between ideas and words
Images and
music
Enriching each other flowing
Fed by thoughts sprung up
Out of our living the life
That
carries on deepening
Ducking and diving expanding
In it art flows through the flow wheel
As though it is life's
electrons flowing
In the end what remains is the art
It remains
as the flow, glow that glows
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin, London 2007
The Wind! The Wind!
Sitting by the living lake I saw water’s soul
The wind! Oh!
How its magic brought the
The water to life! The wind’s silent
rhythm
Played the water like a happy canvas alive
An invisible magician the wind’s magic touch!
Under the
outgoing lights and incoming dark
Where added rays of lamppost’s
contributions
Spoke with a colour transparent silver aqua:
Making wind’s crafted waves into swimming
Swans in a joyous
flight and they swam silently
As the wind blew them onwards: these
swans!
Oh! The swans of majestic transparent aqua silver!
They swam
wearing dresses of water’s silent songs
On the kisses of
water-soul wind! The wind! Wind!
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin, London 2007
About Statistics
Anything is possible within the grasp
Yet probability’s
counter fixed in a fall
Of a hundred for we ought to have
means
To count: to do, to do absolute business.
Anything is not possible and only probable
Will do and hundred
is the number numb
In our head and there is the per cent
port
Where ten, fifteen and forty five comes along
Yet one wonders if one might at all want to
Why a hundred? And
not infinite since we
Are between minus and plus of this
number?
There are no answers’ hedgehogs that poke
Out their heads! We
must count our statistics
Mindful of the market so that it can sell
them!
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin, London 2007
Tescoping Your Life
They say: here you are with a lens
Magnifying marked objects:
oily
And ornamented with absolute
Fanciful market’s
sure-fire moulds
They say: here you are to press these
Bankrupt buttons and then
add the
Final one: fully accommodating to give
A total and say:
twelve twenty, please!
They say all this and offer you a sheet
From where you howl in
and out your
Day’s diagram: fully functional you are,
As a professional: your smiles and words
Are versioned, shaped
and all you need
To do is to pick and use the right one up
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin, London 2007
To My English Lecturer
Our English Lecturer, we called her Madam,
Always spoke
beautifully like a transparent
Song floating on a spring day’s
wind: always
She was a composed rose radiating literature.
Lean and thin attire she walked like butterflies
Light and tall
as though she was winning
Against the air, carrying register and
books
She was the metaphor of a motherly beauty’s
Face. Unruly bunch in the class we could be
Yet in her class
silence fanned our perimeter
And we were duly arrested in her
lectures
The way she spoke, stories became real and
Living and joy it was
listening to her talk yet
Oh! How cancer grabbed her butterfly
wings!
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin, London 2007
19.
Mint green mingles in your mind
And you wonder what else
could
You mix to make it dance: try
Melancholy purple around
it
And you can hear them dancing
A mint circle petaled in
purple
Almost like the earth and moon
Inner and outer layer of
one
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin, London 2007
Give Back My Lyre
The earth takes in all and in return
Offers a serene resolute
silence-urn
Filled with darkness that takes a hearth
Shape where dark fires of silence churn
There I offer my cries
and sorrows to burn
Distant they become; no need rises: tape
There is none or devices to record nor any
Witnesses to
withstand the heat’s many
Acts of arts to destroy: give back my
lyre!
(This is what I call Ninnets)
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin, London 2007
Neuley Pleasance
The first French phrase I fell in love with
Neuley Pleasance in
full moon silver glows
Slight showers drizzling the midnight
hour
Subdued silence holding a vigil in lunar kisses
Through the train window’s aqua paint
Outside awash with a
song of silver lights
She spoke anew and beauty born in soft
And
gentle a musical opening a welcome
Neuley Pleasance where there was a state
Of mind that I held
within suddenly came
Right in front of me: two notes
mingling
She sang in midnight hour with the moon
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin, London 2007
Landscape of the Song
That may be too ambitious a thing to aim for
To build a home in
the landscape of a song?
Or have a dance plucked from the sparkles
Of your eyes where
its choreograph flashes
Or may be it isn’t so bad that we do have these
These unreal
unusable gold just to remind us
That we are still attempting to unfold a living
That checks us
in the end: the striving to mark
Or may be it is the only gold-the only sun
The expanse of the
landscape of the song
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin, London 2007
Read interview in The Guardian
http ://www.guardian.co.uk/weekend/story/0,,2168427,00.html
Read interview in The Observer
http://www.observerunlimited.co.uk/print/0,,330736719-103425,00. html
Read the October issue The Sentinel Poetry Quarterly Interview and Poetry http://www.sentinelpoetry. org.uk
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