hula hands

dancing hands
that lithely weave meles of old Hawaii
bodies swaying to rhythm
of ipu or uli uli
blue across your languid skies
you trace the legends of laie
of pele’s fiery face

if only I could sing, gentle palm
smooth in kwahines
of intricate gesture, measure
the mysteries of mind in words
soft as nimble hands
could melt in mists
beyond the crimson turbulence
of a dark heart

prancing hand
that animate worlds where menehune romp
on foams of ocean rippling
where humuhumunukunukuapuaa go dancing

lovely dancers drowned in leis
who can claim we’re not the dreams
the gods on high frame
articulate hula hands?


in the season of rains
memory revives again
that lost encounter

on the festive night
in the flicker of lighting
you stood alone

shivering in the shadow
of the hollow
co-operative building

i touched your cold hand
my impetuous hand
you had hypnotized

you mistook me, turned away
you chid the rain night
went away
in the season of rains
memory seeks again
that lost encounter


let me catch
the essence of it all
from its stalk
the blushing rose
must fall.

the wild god

tonight the god appears

wild in the wind
that rolls
across the sunken sawahs
cracking the spines
of roofs and cows and men

we seldom see
the god
so wet and wild

we seldom see him at all.

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