For much of my life
I’ve been afraid;
It started with my shadows,
It’ll end with the grave.

I was afraid of falling
Off my bike,
Yet I kept on falling
Till I got it right.

I was afraid of what?
I didn’t know;
But knew that school
Was the place to go.

I was afraid of silence,
When the talking stopped;
I was afraid of the water
Till I belly-flopped;

I was afraid of strays,
Cats and dogs,
Till I met yours
And saw their love.

I was afraid of bullies,
Big and bad;
Till I stared them down,
They were small and sad.

I was afraid of my Dad,
Soon the boy grew up;
I was afraid of failure,
So I never stopped.

I was afraid of being caught,
So I learned to tell the truth;
I’m afraid of Climate Change,
I’m afraid we’ll loose our Earth.

I’m afraid for my children,
Now they’re afraid for theirs;
My thinning skin is looser now,
I’m loosing my grey hairs.

And I’m not liking Death, just now,
People disappear from view;
And yet I heard or read somewhere,
It’s the easiest thing we’ll do.

I heard a nasty rumor about Robbie dying.
But that's not quite true;
At least not until he doesn't meet up with you.

I didn't see him daily, so, for me, he really hasn't.
Not quite yet.
We had lunch just the other day:
"We'll be teeing up in April," he smiled.
Smiled. He's so good at that.
Robbie might be dead then,
But not today. Not for me.

But that's not what they'll say
When he doesn't show.
Then I'll know.
And I already feel the hurt.

The key to heaven,
And escape from snake desires;
On lips goodbye falls!

Unknown,
Invisible,
Doubtful,

Yet my hope,

What a saint!

Don't feel depressed
Though you have been defeated
It was just the flip of a coin
That didn't turn your way

Don't feel depressed
Though you have been put to shame
It was just a dark cloud
That loomed over your head

Don't feel depressed
For you are the waves
That can upsize such defeats
In a single moment

Don't feel depressed
For you are behind the fog today
But will shine tomorrow
Even in the desert of darkness

In every leaf that
Falls, agony lies hidden;
We dont hear, we watch.

On the road the son
Weeps on his father's silence;

The beggar left bones;
Puppies circled him to grab;
The sweeper swept them.

On the cheeks of fog
Our shattered dreams visualise;
The sun restores them.

The mouse gnaws at bones
At the pace of day and night;
After that it squeals.

The mouse gnaws at bones
At the pace of day and night;
After that it squeals.

Poetry
Is the axis

On which society moves