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A Life

A life in the jungle
A life of hustle
A life full of bundles
Of spiralling wavering bubbles

A life of pressure
A life of painful pleasure
A life of no leisure
A life of sorrow that cannot be measured

A life full of desires
Of what to acquire
A life that aspires
With no clue as to when it will expire

A life of lust
In spite of the cost
A life of dust
If it comes to worst


My pen for once will bleed tonight
as autumn's acorns drum the roof
bringing my mortality to plain sight.
Is anyone actually time proof?

If so it's nobody I know
for they have mostly fallen by the way.
Gone to where ever people go
after they've lived their last day.

But I turn my thoughts from those now passed
for next up to come is the regrets;
words left unsaid in the past;
time wasted on worries and frets.

Hiding Wounds

Bruise don't hide easily under white skin,
tears don't hide easy when you keep them in,
I have broken arms and legs, but I don't need a crutch
I've gained a lot of weight so I won't eat lunch.


first look
an impression
second one
a perception
eyes closed
an image
a blank

a dream?
may be
a nightmare?
know not
what then?
um disbelief
of what?
um peace

Day Dream

The grand master hung over me
And shadowed all but the rolling sea
In the flowered green hollow of the valley
The fairies and elves danced with glee
From the perch high above I could see
The coloured bridge that often covered me
There In that unknown to dare all fantasies
While travelling untested paths to condone
All I did see whilst contemplating alone
In the vision that willingly guided me home
And each moment spent at dusk
A new adventure was mine to entrust
And guide those to a needed seer

Oh Those Babies! (A Villanelle)

Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes
evoke inside me the loveliest thought;
they unfurl a heart like a budding rose.
Esoteric feelings that nobody knows
but moms; a secret love as they first spot
ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes.
As soft skin scents naturally arose,
to speak of volumes that heroes got not
they unfurl a heart like a budding rose.
No piece of poetry, not even prose
has told in words- nor even a snapshot
ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes.


All these trees are like the columns
of ancient cathedrals pierced by light
And the loam is rich deep carpet
making each step soft and right.

The singing brook is a refrain
of music found in just this place
where I often go to brood
when doubts assail my lined face.

Nature always brings me peace
without need of a congregation
is this quietude religion
or just rampant imagination?

Riviera of Lively Sojourn

River of benevolence......
I compare one’s whole life...
to a River
as it emanates as forest dew drops......
then enlarges to bigger ones...
falls as a waterfall...
with the kinetic energy gained
with the momentum
gushes forth at break neck speed...
then meanders....
cuts corners...
strikes boulders
gradually slows down...
till at the estuary
it splits into tributaries...
tired as it merges
back into the sea or ocean...

Love Language

it helps to remember
that someone
with a different language
is still speaking
the same words

that "tree"
and "friend"
and "God"

still mean

from the earth
from a fellow human
from a power
way beyond us

kids of every race
have teddy bears
and tooth brushes

adults, the jobs
they must go to
the hard decisions
they must make

like how to deal
with monstrosity
without becoming
a monster

Hummingbird Speak

Hummingbird speak,
How fast are your wings?
What is your name?
This one met me face to face.

This one looked me in the eyes,
I asked again with a smile,
How fast are your wings?
What is your name?

I wish to take your pic,
create nature vid
This one stayed and played
Hummingbird speak..


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