Laws are men-made
men are fallible
ergo,  no law is infallible

When in-laws pay their visit
a cloud descends on the family:
when will they leave?
A day is like a century-

how they talk and advise
with such alacrity and impunity
they can't be contradicted
or they'll turn enemy-

too eager they are
to share their past history:
' Do you know I was the Beauty-Queen?
  All the handsome young men fell desperately for me!'

The father-in-law must have his say:
' I was a Colonel in the Royal Military
  in Flanders Field I fought with distinction
  to our country I brought honour and glory!'

  Meal-times are moments most trying
  nothing suits their tastes-- not even to the slightest degree
  so they suggest dining out for the whole family
  but they will not volunteer to take out any money!

Don't lean on me
I'm like you
in my infirmity

but life
must go on-
an inevitability

until
our mortal game
is over--  finally

pluck whatever
that does comfort
or console-- gratefully

don't depend on me
chart your own course
in life's harsh journey

What I'm not
is more important
than what I am
therein
is truth
and authenticity
contained-
the intrinsic grain

for what I am
is but externally framed
by convention
and self-protection-
an iceberg
with the water-bottom
hidden and unknown

such is the limitation
of our human nature
we struggle
to be genuine

but too often-
in vain!

Living life 'fully'-
a hyperbole
it's not possible

perfection
can't be attained-
better say 'living meaningfully'

even
the whitest snow
does some imperfection contain

There's a void in my life that I can't explain,
A vacant wasteland of untouched terrain;
A candle waiting for someone to light . . .
Who am I missing tonight?

Was he in the crowd, did we pass in the street?
On some occasion did our eyes chance to meet?
A faceless form slips in and out of sight...
Who am I missing tonight?

Does he think of the girl  that he never met?
Is he cursing Fate for this unpaid debt?
Does he also ask as he dims the light:
"Who am I missing tonight?"

Now Time has reclaimed my borrowed youth
And I fear I shall die not knowing the truth;
But I'll not be silenced, though  Death tries to smite
My relentless cry, as I'm drawn toward the Light . . .
Who was I missing each night?

Who dares say
self-pity is unhealthy?
The sufferer bleeds
known to nobody:

the self looks at itself
as none other ever could
the depth that devours it
the pain that nothing can soothe

the world is other people
each unto their own, steeped
beyond that carved boundary
it doesn't care to look or peep

who has the authority
to say self-pity is unhealthy?
When into hard times that person falls
he will hold on to it---so very tightly!

I change
or I'll wither

human I am-
to myself alone
I belong
to none other

I'm what I am
because I change-
if people don't
that'd be truly strange

it's moving ahead
to meet odds
and every challenge
I might not achieve
but not changing
is to be enslaved

I'll not be the same
but from others
and life
I'd not be estranged

no tricky game
I'm playing
only myself *******
to a new enlarged stage.