HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SONG OF MY HEART

                                                                           

The babiest of all my children, the last born...

Here she is with her nieces, all precious jewels to me.

Presents and celebrations will come later.

Right now, I want to hug you, cuddle you, cradle you and rock you in my arms, like the day you were born.

Happy Birthday, song of my heart!

100th POSTING

                                                                         

Thank you Sean R. Ova for your poem, 'Trees', which marks the 100th posting by The Anuki Country Press.
                                                                   
                                                   

Trees. 

By: Sean R. Ova

 

Through a historians eyes,

Trees long gone speak of yester – men. 

 

Through an architects eyes 

Trees erected with nail and bolt express 

Man’s frame of mind.

 

Through an economists eyes 

Logs strain and bend to stabilise the kina.

 

Through eyes of piety

Trees are sacred temples of a dwelling.

 

Through a medical practitioner’s eye,

Trees provide herbal remedies.

 

Through an astronaut’s eyes,

Trees adorn an otherwise bare earth.

 

Through a conservationist’s eye, 

Trees are the lungs of the world.

 

Through an anthropologists eye,

Trees reveal a people’s lifestyle.

 

Through my Melanesian eyes 

Trees are brothers that support 

Many generations.

 

Through the loggers eyes

Quantity over – night.

 

Through a trees own eyes,

 

Quality growth over a million years.

A POEM BY SEAN R. OVA

From my collection titled ‘ Headugu’ (260 poems)

                                                                       

 

By: Sean R. Ova

 

Taliu … way out to sea lay a string of wonderland,

 

Desolate in the purifying and bathing sunshine

 

There eyes feast a homemade demand,

 

For the reefs below the waters stand grand.

 

 

 

I should say, hey ! everyday is gay

 

As the sky glows wide blue and cool waters play –

 

Once inside it you’d simply forget –

 

There’s an outer world to regret.

 

 

 

No people live in this motherland

 

Who fends for herself at night, and

 

Below indolent fishes feed on her white sand.

 

Yet beloved; I’ve stolen sight of her naked; first hand

 

 

 

Ambient breezes every time come in curls

 

While the gulls’ shy borne squeak teasingly as do girls.

 

Exciting those blissful beach rich shrubs into sway

 

Wishing I murder my travelling and stay.

 

 

 

But sunsleep enters this dreamscape; not withstand

 

The sheer remorse of seeing her no more

 

A rare island pearl in all tropical expand

 

Vanish; here spoken as second - hand.

 

 

 

In a day if ever you‘d there land

 

Go then there… as far as your eyes stand

 

For she is but an abode for souls to disband

 

So memories hidden are flung to the woken sender