1 -
a therapeutic calm wafted across the valley
and a wispy mist in blue filled the still air
i stood transfixed on the tense river bank
seeing and not believing this magical sight
that on my mind weren't ever a blight

                               - 2 -
a frog with a bobbing throat leapt into the water
and sent a ripple that crept up the serene pond
till in time it reached the floater of my line
whereupon i felt a grip upon my timid heart
and a fish bigger than in stories broke the surface

                              - 3-
in that mystical moment the scales fell from my eyes
and i beheld a sight most wondrously mesmerizing
for there upon a delicate water lily in ballerina pose
was a maid with a beauty that no artist could conceive
in a soon forgotten sluggish million years or more

                           - 4 -
her eyes were like twinkling stars recently escaped
from the whirling depths of a cosmic wormhole
her nose was like a bridge to whimsical fantasy
and she beckoned to me with ever-increasing urgency
till i felt my will melt before her seductive wiles

                           - 5 -
then the voice of my mother called me from the edge
and the sleep induced by the moment began to dissipate
the maid began a dance like one for her nuptials
and the sound of distant drums bore into my soul
in faint echoes that were forever sinking into endless time

                            - 6 -
as in a surrealistic dream before the break of another day
the frog leapt out of the pond and onto the grassy bank
from the lily, like a fancy, the dancing maid disappeared
and there was neither mist nor breeze as i stood there
alone again with my fishing line and my baffled thoughts

shapi is leaving, the old man cried
shapi is going when she should stay, he said
lord knows i've done everything; i've tried
        she came into my life in a blaze of glory
        she of the dimples and the dancing eyes
        she was a breeze come whispering
        she of the rich ***** and coy smile
the story of my life was done; i was sated and glad
        when shapi set foot into my home and my heart
        she was a warm song on coldest winter nights
and a cooling effect when the humidity was unbearable
        the old man with several days' stubble wept sorely
        as his memories teased and tormented him
        shapi's sensuous figure haunted him still
        the artistry expended in her making
             the fluidity of her graceful curves
               life had never been this kind
                   where the things that bind
                  were concerned ...
  now shapi was leaving and he was alone
and the cloud of dust raised by the old bus
        choked his memory and dimmed his eyes
     those who had never seen and old man cry
    were hushed by his gushing tears and by his wailing
                as shapi left him, never again to return

softly humming and deftly proceeding
unobtrusive like a shy one at a gathering
i make myself obscure and inconsequential
though my heart tells me it's only a matter of time
before i make my mark and cause a stir among my peers
and before we hear the distinct sound of the bell's chime
as it calls upon all and sundry, far and wide across the land
to declare their love in soft tones and hearts serene and sincere
to look upon love with wondering eyes that burn with longing
and drink to the love of a lifetime in a sunset glass blown by a master
thereafter to sing a song that is a tale of love unlimited and hope eternal
the thing to remember is the image of a backpacker at some lodge
sinking with the yellow sun in an obscure room where he lays his head
though he knows it not, his ritual daily enacts our final days

this day has to be the day
when i finally  have my say
in the scheme of things;
it's all up to us earthly beings
                    i say
to love and savour what life gives
from its veritable bounty
today is my day of harvest
and i gather into my memory bank
the swishing of the wind
the whisper of the breeze
the lulling bird songs, so reminiscent
of the first morning on creation
the sound of the coming storm
that never ends
and the echo of the wisdom of the ages
that says make your foundation strong
today i cup the palms of my heart
to receive the showers of cosmic blessings
it's been a long hard road
but i never walked it alone
there was always another searching soul
so though today is my day of harvest
i still wonder how i deserved it

Like a baby
thirsty and hungry
For nourishment
I cry for Mother
In the worst of times
Wanting her
To make the pain go away
For she's where it all ends
And she loves us all
No matter what

couch!
ouch ...

Happiness is an enigma
It is the joy in your heart
When the illusion of continuity
Plays havoc with your perceptions
The child or grandchild is only metaphorically you
Close resemblance notwithstanding my dear
You, a quivering arrow, were shot ahead so have no fear
Your child, or child of your child, is, like you, a message to the future
And happiness is a feeling of seeming well-being and equilibrium
Borne on wings of optimism and transitory like the seasons
Happiness is the sparkle in the eyes of loved ones
Brought about by your presence in a room filled with experiences
For everyone, no matter what, needs a witness
The great feats of our lives are nothing unless chronicled
By silent witnesses and scribes who see and wonder so as to tell
Happiness is a hot meal served generously on a smiling platter
And spiced with the verve of their eagerness to please and to love
Happines is many things besides, but above all it is elevation
To the dizzy heights of apparent permanence in a passing world
Happiness comes easily when we do the simple things of life
That elude those who are forever looking for complications
When you're happy it makes me trusting, peaceful and contented
Yet, in my desperation I may have imagined what pleases me most
But, as they say, 'it is well' - everything may, after all, be just a mirage

as life will have it
some are explicit poems
while others are implicit ones
When you sigh and shake your head
and when you pace the tired floor
and steadily approach  that door
to the hatch that ushers you into a tango
you're quite obviously a vivid poem
with a rhythm and a diction all your own
there is always someone dying to know you
when you brood like an intellectual
and when everything is reality virtual
you're an implicit poem, morose and taciturn
when you paint pictures in weeping colours
and from ubiquitous critics seek no  favours
you're a dirge in e-minor - a veritable lament
that will only go walking when the day may

the bold and the bald
the cold and the called
the bored and the bowed
stalled and stole warming hearts
while the crow cawed timidly
and the deed was done indeed

a life-size study against the backdrop
of a silent ebony door in freeze motion
still as a queen in contemplative mood
and settled like a sonorous afternoon
it was a picture of loveliness in the morning
decked in black and spotting thick dreadlocks
picture of woman: a study in poise and splendour
accentuated by infectious warmth and inherited wisdom
until she moved as we all must in time and on occasion do
that was when i knew she was flesh and blood and a live woman
transient and gorgeous as most things human tend to be
and the frown of her corrugated brow was like a shadow in my life

You want nothing and crave for nothing
only to be by the side of the one who chooses you
That's what happens when home is where the heart is

The sun may shimmer, singe or sear your flesh and your ego
and the rain may fall, patter or pour in heavy sheets cold
You stay because that's what happens when home is where the heart is

When they travel to far-off lands you're in their hearts where it's warm
You're in their  being where you need  no visa or residency permit; and
that's what happens to all and sundry when home is where the heart is

In time the great divide that has pleasure in keeping lovers asunder
silently stalks everyone without favour or discrimination
and creates the one time that the heart cannot be home

the break-of-day eastern sky is a primeval crimson
tinges of rich yellow speak of the gold in the sun
i salute the coming day with a stretch and a yawn
and i know i must be up with the sun to caress life

a cackle, a coo, a rascally laugh and a gruff lament
tell me little has changed and all things mark time
i bow to those who die a million deaths in their time
yet up with the sun still sing songs about each new day

a little voice whispers to me softly about things cosmic
and how everything has a shadow that's its clone
i applaud the ingenious few who strike out bravely
and remember how they have upgraded things lately

up with the sun my dear maiden true; the ties that bind
are forever in motion seeking a breaking of tensions
i  **** a piece of me every day when i sulk like a reluctant groom
for up with the sun I must ride away into a velvet sunset dream

When the grass has  sprouted and the countryside is a soft green hue
and the hills are clothed in feathery russet and gold
Remember me upon a drowsy afternoon
with the cicadas singing in hypnotic monotony
Remember me when the milk-laden cows are lowing
for it is in such serene moments that we recall our regrets
When the countryside is mad with life
and natural perfumes spice your safari with wild abundance
Remember me upon a dry riverbed
where once we stood upon an island happy and free
*Remember me when the milk-laden cows are lowing
for it is in calm and peace such as this that we mellow betimes

here's to the many an avid poetic toast
to sweetly urge us on till we reach the coast
let this effervescence  be a portrait of living joy
propelled by the glowing fires of our awakenings

hold your head high poet
for your verses are sublime
do not sigh poet unless you must
but linger when you will in the stillness of a pause

tend your curiosity like a newly-discovered plant
and value it like a rare species from life's archives
let your couplets and your epigrams call the heart to attention
in the cloistered silences of your many pleasant surprises

with each sunset the days are going
and though i've never stopped toiling
this wilderness bewilders me still
till i ask myself what comes after me
what gain there is from a poet eluded by material riches
some leave dream-quality mansions for posterity
others bequeth fabulous wealth to their progeny
and they're remembered for their bounty
but i, the poet in the family,will leave only my words
they will shed tears when my images come alive
they will say how singularly spectacular was my diction
and they will make songs out of my poetic epigrams
but they will not see in their chapped hearts
how other life was always hovering around me
how the words i invoked floated near the edges of my person
and how something huge was always on the tip of my pen

jinga, jinga my sister
it's a true- vex world
jinga my sister
nothing makes sense
jinga my sister
it's a shake-your-head fix
where we're headed
i don't know jinga
oh the aches in my heart
jinga my little sister
what a drag it is
feeling so helpless
watching you get mauled
by the drooling wolves of suburbia
oh jinga i'm hurting inside
but time sometimes does wait
so show them jinga
a daughter saving a nation

the enfeebled voice spoke of hopelessness
the inflamed flesh told of a spirit subdued
shrunken and felled by a creeping weakness
her sightless eyes  were a sign of approaching demise
yet she said she would see me in the morning
and next day under the winking sun i was at her mourning
keeping a promise made a long time ago under a cork tree
to sing about the beauty of a true heart that loved well
and how there was a place and a time for sundown trysts
in the world of articulate shadows beyond the endless blue
and there an enigmatic silhouette she waits in expectant vigil

that feeling again
i'm on top of the world
  and there are no stains
      on my conscience
  i'm the idea that was to come
    the mother of all miracles
    and women's darling boy
       how they all want to cuddle!
that tangy taste in my mouth again
                   life is kicking
and everything has a taste
right now there's spice in my life
                    i'm a jetsetter
             and a party favourite
          my finances are sound
my associates are impeccable
       and i move in powerful circles
i have the pope's private number
and i am a force on wall street
             life is jumping
              not limping
              oh the jolt!
  i wake up and all i see is the mist
       of my dissipated dream
    as it vanishes into thin air
     and i'm groping again
    life, thou art a ***** still!

the lean boy with hungry eyes
kept his eyes glued on my pack
like a beggar hoping for a bowl of rice
and i who had more than i could ever want
            gave him my snack pack
            and watched him eat
just slices of bread with butter and marmalade
and he ate his meal like one fit for a king
                       with respect
                          finesse
                      a­nd ardour
in that fleeting moment i knew for sure
   that a man at table is a king indeed

Massive water body in one-time quarry
colour blue like the sky and edges green with algae
offers untutored swimming episodes with man-bushed boys
I watch them float around like effortless swallows in the sky
hoping against hope that it can be me one day
on my back  at ease like a log or diving deep
Big boy with breaking voice will carry me on his back
I strip and hike around the pool on his sinewy back
Again and again till my fears are lulled and I'm relaxed
These days I smile whenever I hear the monkey tell the buzzard:
Straighten up and fly right, for the boy shook me off
And made for the bank to watch me splash and nearly drown
With hindsight I know I should've told him to straighten up and swim right;  but that's how you learn to swim among the boys

Wise guys in Presley-style haircuts
mill around the booming jukebox
It's late in the fifties
and there are no hippies
Sweltering October afternoon
So you buy a soda and drink it slowly
Your meagre resources make you lowly
I stand in awe, dazed and wondering
This machine has a hand and a brain
Feed it a coin and it picks your song
Suddenly King Creole is playing
and they all jump like catfish on the pole
I'm no square so I too twitch, turn and jump
Everybody is dancing
and life is a rock'n roll song

I came this far
risked limb and all
in my creaking car
just to see the sea
Lo,what a wondrous sight!

Smarting from that cruel retort
      and the smoke of ages
      that blurred my vision
                    I lost
    a golden opportunity
   to breathe her into me
in one huge gulp of indulgence
          They lose who gaze
                   into
  worlds of reckless abandon

I am thinking with some nostalgia
about the simple but unforgettable things we shared
and how beautiful everything seems now with time gone by

There were four of us clumsy but sturdy Mother's boys
One Sunday best shirt and one Sunday best pair of shoes
We took turns to go to church and proudly wore our shared attire

The other boys on our street - how they envied us our pair of longs!
Gray flannel freshly-laundered with benzine and neatly-ironed
Worn so proudly and revered like a family coat of arms


We shared the near misses and the sore heartbreaks as well
When it wasn't your turn at church she looked around for you
With marble-sized eyes, this girl - the one for whom you fell

I remember the bitter tears I cried when you tore our shirt
And I could not keep my tryst with the one who sent me crazy
The things that we shared - how they broke our hearts sometimes!

But the beauty of it all was there was no malice or avarice
We accepted our fates and guarded the family secret
And none so jealously as I did though I was often in tears

From the outside he is unfinished and grotesque
A figure conjured up by a devilish intelligence
Out to shock the world with his ghoulish antics
For who could find such glee in such contortion
But as always poor **** sapiens is off the mark
For inside this morbid cask of human digression
Lies a trove of bountiful beauty in aesthetic abandon
The beauty inside the man is the work of a maetsro
Poetry that seizes the imagination is his speciality
And music that arrests even the gods is his forte
So be not hasty to judge what you see before you
Let the scales that blind your inner vision drop off
And there before your newly-tutored eyes
Will lie an essence of such beauty as you can never imagine
Loudly proclaiming the worth of the person inside the shell
And how disability is only a layer that when peeled off
Unveils the inimitable jewel inside in its range and depth

Ever seen a dog free, tongue out panting
Style not cramped by hallucinating humans?
He's desperately intense and oh so resolute!

Look,  learn and emulate his singleness of purpose
Getting to his destination somewhere ahead is supreme
So, never you think you he knows not where he goes

In truth only the dog knows where he's going and why
Lesson from the dog: keep your own sweet counsel
In matters of import and talk after you return and are snug

Wherever the drum is sounded
There will his feet and ego lead him
For there's none so adept as he
At fouling the mood with a few
                home truths
when the village brew is frothy and virile
There too will his keen appetite him drive
For there's none so deferred to as he among
Folk hungry for forgivable misdemeanor
                and some home truths
He's the inimitable village drunk
Endowed with a surfeit of expletives
For there's none so free as he here
To douse all and sundry in invective ubiquitous
               laced with a few home truths
This village drunk is high on the power granted him
By a grateful captive audience that's allowed him
Freedom to free them of secrets and all
When he dons his invisble crown and dispenses
              a few home truths 'bout everyone

He’s gone flying
Across the azure skies
While in your juices you fry

He’s gone paddling in the lake
Where tiger fish are jumping
While you lie in a puddle

He’s gone wan and solid
And remained stolid
While you wilt like a dying flower

I didn’t know it then but I was blessed
It took this woeful person so wretched
To dispel my sweet-nothing illusions
And wipe away my vast delusions

I didn’t know it then but I was spellbound
It took this ranting being to quell the hound
And restore my sense of mad reality
Till I began to believe I was wholesome again

In truth they are mad who are made breathless
By the simple things of a commoner’s life
Dangled before your mesmerized eyes
In that moment of sighed realization

When you grasp the beauty of absence
And know just how sweet loss can be in essence
These are the lessons life has always talk
That absence invokes the presence of the other

And that none is so wretched as one so unfortunate
As never to have known the pangs and doubts
That condemn all seekers to following their bouts
Of distraction to the limits of the conscious world

These dear lonesome wayfarer adrift in time and space
Are the lessons that life has always taught us
When it is time for great moments you will know:
Each moment carries you along regardless

This beautiful but slippery thing
   Could it be the much fabled happiness
This ethereal whiff of possibibilities
   Could it be what it's all about

This driver of  human craving in perpetuity
    Could it be the prize we seek so diligently
This balm for broken hearts and chapped souls
    Could it be the hearse for our hopes and dreams

When the pursuit of happiness is your driver
       Might you not miss out on binary experiences
When the pursuit of happiness is your driver
     Will there be a smiling usher to guide you home

With the furrowing of my intelligent brow
With my glistening muscle and brawn
And my rhythmic thrusts in shrouds of mist
Father, see me build a home for the young

With my smile and my agony alternating
And formidable forces galore frustrating
The creativity of my persistent yearnings
Father, see me build a place called home

With pangs of regret and sorrow banished
In moments of temporary accommodation
And with joy unlimited in the ascendancy
Father, see me build from a fusion of desires

Spurred on by the mellow essence of femininity
Wrapped like a surprise in garments of pleasantry
Blown gently to float like soap bubbles in the air
Father, thus see me grip an opportunity come

She called me again today
from the top of a queen-sized bed
drenched in scents and sweat
and draped in satin and velvet

She called me again today
from the tears of a thick cloud
slowly dripping into a hole
on the broken earth below

She called me again today
from a bubbling ancient spring
into which a mad woman high on glee
had poured gallons of stale ale

She called me again today
from the torn page
of a creased exercise book
old, forsaken and mute

She called me again today
from where she waylaid me
and sap from a weeping trunk
went thud against tomorrow's hay

She called me again today
from an angry hissing tap
whose force and might
spoke of trapped time

She called me again today
softly from the pride of her casket
and I knew futility then
We live and love in one direction only

Up Cliff Road I go
steep and taxing beyond compare
Cliff's only claim to fame
is giving a name to this incline
At Cliff's apex I'm at the peak of my endurance
The resident monkeys swing across the branches
This is their last stand; no more running from grasping humans
The rottweiller at the corner is itching to clamp its jaws
around a hairy monkey thigh, but it won't be
Mike the monkey is a survivor even with half his tail gone
I turn right and down the road I go; Simpson Road:
this is the green and leafy part of town; the sprinklers are running
and heavy duty generators are whirring
These mansions are meant for comfort and effect
and the people here have money to spare but never do
Nobody talks audibly here; it's uncivilized to broadcast your conversations
I walk on past the heap of imported top soil -
someone here means to get someone to toil
to create a monumental fad to make posterity eat its heart out
The birds are whistling outdoor tunes, generic as always
There's a grumpy old timer by the corner, but today I'm not in the mood
for his nausea and his nostalgia; everything is disgusting
and nothing measures up anymore
Retracing my steps I go back up Simpson Road
and turn left into Cliff Road where the sight of the jacaranda blooms
is like a breathtaking sight of purple showers of rain
I'll walk this lane again and again till I am sated

The song in my poem
is pure gold
My poem
overflows with cuddly music
that's a comfort when I'm forsaken
and is re-assuring when days are bad
The song in my poem is for all seasons
devastating when I'm in ruins
fortifying when I march to my demise
and a prompt for the compulsive actions
of the fools of history
The song in my poem
can lead you to perdition and oblivion
or it can lead you to ecstacy and contrived joy
or the sweet freedom of being gone forever
I am alive to all the posibilities on life's menu
and I'm the gourmet that chefs rustle up the magic for

There were times when the fine film of thin dust
on the gloss of well-polished genuine leather shoes
spoke of long winding roads that led to a deep moment
frozen by the breath of new seasons on the brows of hills
and etched in spray paint on the skies of our yearnings

The long winding routes along windswept terrain
How they frustrated the wild dreams of youth!
Dreams of a surfeit of everything and a dearth of want
These roads we travelled believing we were not alone
are the archives of our extinguished hopes and dead dreams

We live in continual prayer that opportune moments
will once again come before us on some blessed day soon
and are certain that this time victory is ours to take
Our moments of elevation are well and truly nigh
They wait to be set in motion by the winds in the wishes

This old heart of mine
is a veritable mine
of experiences:
joy, sorrow and raw passion
compassion on some occasion

This old heart of mine
has served me true and faithful
humouring my every mood
with percussion sublime and varied:
       slow and dignified beats for prayer and devotion
       fast and furious when I must flee some terror
       joyful and expectant when she passed by
       chaotic and bewildered when I'm discarded

This old heart of mine
has seen me through times hard and easy
I begin to take her for granted
Though there's a price to pay
For, certainly, one of these days she'll beat no more

Something fine and lyrical
A gem of aesthetic purity
Shining with resilience
That's what you are

Something defined and refined
A phenomenon in your own right
Impossible to ignore ever
That's what you are

A work of artistry and mystery
Abundant everywhere yet so rare
Forever an enigma and an obsession
That's what you are

Poetry in fluid motion, graceful and pleasing
Rhyme and rhythm in perpetual commerce
Sound and movement perfectly matched
That's what you are: a poetic angel

Somehow everyone will know
years after I have dissipated
that I too ***** this earth
and played a part in the demise
of the world as it had been
since the start of time and history
and that I too created the dearth
of the wholesome things of life
And when all is said and done
there will be nowhere to hide:
the tense clouds I melted into will cry
and I, excess baggage, will be spat out
the stars in the heavens will frown
and I shall weep endless tears
as the annals of the world vilify me
And when all is said and done
this is the one time that the poet
speaks for the quick and the dead

My usual hard-sole morning walk
My candid talk with the devils in me
My necessary ritual right on cue as always
And the images from my mental shelf
Tumble out, then push and shove for prominence

The usual stop near the tall reeds
The soothing dose of lilting bird song
The throaty baritone of the lazy bull frog
And  the rapture is complete and infectious
In this mellifluent music of the open air

The unfailing breeze whistles a tune of freedom
As the supple  green reeds dance to the elements
Freedom is all around and I am a firm believer
A willing cadre on this road that travellers tread
And for one sated moment I am Che in a beret

Free to roam and free to wish for and dream
Of a world where life is a daily festival

The moon makes you cold
but therein lies its remote wonder
You soon become a devotee
trapped in the grip of its allure
and wondering how it is
that this oft silvery orb
is at once so cold and yet so warm
it leaves many a lover
moonstruck and abstracted
On a leafy night like tonight,
with a tropical moon up on high
dancing phantoms peep through
the gaps in the palm fronds
and the moon woos them
with its promise of worlds unknown
She looks at me face up-tilted, and
eyes consumed with heart-fresh passion
I have a foreboding feeling,
and a fearful certainty of loss
for time the unyielding enigma
promises  you everything
but seldom delivers
what you ordered
in the heat of the moment
Tonight the shadows are dancing
the dance of silhouettes,
ethereal yet as real as the moon that shines
and the stars that beckon
I am a wandering disciple of life's mysteries
recruited on leafy nights such as this one is,
and I'm tied to you  by  an unebbing desire
to plant an idea on your tempting lips
and hear you dispense what my fate is
in this so changed world of our time

Sick people sit sickly
on oaken benches
in a clinic with clean floors
and modern gadgets
for vetting clients
Little boy of three or four
bawls an unusual request:
he screams for an injection
where he's softest
and for the briefest of moments
Sick people suspend their agony
forget their fear and pain
and marvel at the boy's craving
for a needle that is terror
to most toddlers

She used to obey his every whim
       Love then was obedience
She used to let him have his way
       Love then was playing along

In those days he was never to be questioned
      His every word was like a deity's proclamation
In those days his every fancy was as good as done
       His every mood was to be humoured

Now he is the piper and she pays for his services
          He plays any melody she demands
She tells him what to dream and how to talk about it
            Lady luck deserted him the day the tables turned

With this pen
I fulfilled my dream
and a whole new people
in my own image
materialized in a once silent abode
and let there be laughter and dance
With this pen
I evoked images from the depths of life
and created unending literary melodies
From one pen oozed the seed of life
and from the other came the stamp of eternity
that made everything perpetual and precious

with mouth rich like an oracle dispensing word mysteries
lips ripe and red like the inside of a juicy water melon
eyes like a laser beam searing my conceited heart
she looked my way with demeanor raw and with disdain
and the hurt came sliding into my shredded ego
that fell to the floor in a heap of abandoned intentions
she frowned like a queen on a throne bedecked with silk
and her soft velvet walk was like a bomb in my timid ears
as once more she cast a regal look at the mere human that I was
and again the hurt came sliding in with the writing on the wall
and i knew i was chasing an elusive butterfly in full flight

On this my happy and blessed day
fondly I remember what Mother always said
upon some naughty day when I made her sad
stalling on her bidding and not being a good boy
Son, live straight and be easy to interpret
Life is a complex menu of choices. Still -
you can cruise along if there’s love in your life

I remember the wistful poetry from my father’s lips
Creamy words spoken in jest or in epic tales
and untutored philosophy when he spoke of his going:
Death has come and it’s time for last words
My life has dragged by but now how it hurries!
Be the person that you must and **** the rest!
A truly rich person shares what they value most

And so it is that I’ve shared my heart and my mind
In numerous lines of poetry that has dared me to write it

On this my 66th birthday I read no ills in this number
For I’m just a wayfarer looking for words along my route
I pick the gems that sparkle and dazzle as I stroll to eternity
The landmarks on my route are
The friends I made and lost along the way
The doleful souls that brought tears to my eyes
The pretty girls that taught me I could never have them all

I remember too the places I’ve been to
And the songs of my people – lively commentaries on everything
And how life always lay waiting to be lived

My day of birth is my day of possibilities
And I keep hearing the line from the jazz classic:
Get your kicks on Route 66!

I’m not the type
that thrives on hype
and I’m not lewd or lurid
like life gone grossly putrid
I’m a man that sees through the heart
and does not go through life playing the part
of a roaming spirit let loose among the lambs
My role is to let life roll like a well-made plan
but never to seek the glitz or glamour
that comes alive only in glossy magazines
and among the mesmerized many
True life like love goes on while you fuss
about whether your neighbour has noticed

They said you were slow and languorous
That live or die 'twas all the same for you
Untutored, they were the swine before the pearls
And were ignorant of the coals that fanned your passion

I was one of the daring few that knocked at your door
The lithe girl in you  was always there for the seeing
You had a shape made in heaven and a smile to match
And your blithe ways said nothing mattered that much

We learned much about the body and the force of allure
We filled our gaps with information as you filled your cups
We became clumsier and more oafish as your grace peaked
But we always knew how to worship your form and beauty

The years went by and we all grew up and spread afield
Try as I did to search high and low, of you I found no trace
Yet with ease I found your pretty face in the clouds of time
And the rain wept your name and kept it showering

Now the relentless years have gone swiftly past somehow
And pretty little girls and bashful boys have grown old
Is this you with the fading sight and the tremulous voice?
'Tis no matter, I know how to bring back that lovely lass

So, no matter what, you'll always be that voluptuous beauty
I don't see your spindly legs nor mind your frequent lapses
They don't know what they missed, these modern types:
Love with the taste of spring water that bubbled out of you

Into the cupped palms of my doting heart that sang a duet
With the crescendo notes of your  ***** and the quiver
Of the enchanted world sitting upon your dancing behind
These enduring images never fade or melt away

Thus, dearest God's masterpiece, you'll always be my girl
And I the boy electrified by your articulate eloquence
Ignore them when they call you a hag and a witch
They know not the feel of the bliss that never goes away

When mother was there I splashed about
and in glee and wonderment had bout after bout
of childish pranks and tomfoolery in the dirt and dust
But she didn't mind and rewarded me with loving smiles

One day Mother went to this place from which mothers never return
but this was hidden to me in my world where mothers never die
The new mother was full of ire and venom and had a lashing tongue
I learned the hard way why you never go where your mother isn't

'T'was a real feisty morning
and the cold wind lashed my heart
From a distance  I saw a colourful dress
flapping in the wind like a lyrical flag
And my poor heart spun like a crazy top

The basket sat firmly atop her country head
and the chiffon she wore matched the blue of the sky
The smile in her eyes gave truth to the age-old adage
about the heart being like the seed of a wild tree
that grows and flourishes where it will, come what may

She went down on her knees, supple and graceful
and spread her tie and dye wraparound on the ground
Then her heart called out to me in a profound lyric
even as she offered me her hand whose musical bangles
wove into the chorus of sounds from the cicadas and doves

My heart sang an acceptance speech in her honour
She of the hip-long locks of jet-black hair and hypnotic eyes
Enthralled, I wanted to drink from her candid eyes
Happily, she smashed the doubts I had had in days gone by
For I was the lucky man for whom all this was enacted

With a smile like the radiant rays of the rising sun
and a face from which a rainbow could rise
she gave me what she had walked miles to deliver:
a home-made round loaf from purest wheat off her field
She bade me eat and I did eat of this gift from the heart