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

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!

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

Clear is the day
gone is the mist
now that you're here
nothing is amiss

the shadows
of last night
have given way
to the day's light

behold --there's a rainbow
beaming in the blue sky
the tender breezes are singing
every joy is drifting by

now that you're here
no more tears will fill my eyes
all that which greets me is so very dear
they bear the very fragrance of paradise

I needn't go too far
being here is enough:
there's no better world
out there- here I can touch
the edge of time
and keenly feel
the pulse of life---enlarged
by the wonder
before me
by the energy
I discharge --
new paths
I'll discover
and chart-

why should I
ever want
to reach the star
like a child
in its fancy
over-indulged?

I'll be still:
life needn't be
too much
of the unwanted

only the barest
of essentials
will be the crowning
they will suit
my heart
in every part.

Do you remember?
Surely you still remember

that September
('twas summer
and roses  in the meadow
were blooming all over)

when an amourous letter
you sent to Amber-

how you heart
did flutter
and how
you did wonder
whether
she would agree
to meet you -under
night's cover-

you were 17 then
15 was Amber

restless nights
haunted you
you were all over:
would she reply
your letter?

You were
not yourself
and your parents
asked: Do you
have a fever?

Not a word
did you utter

a week went by
and by the post-box
you did linger
but no postman
came over-

school you missed
' I'm unwell, Miss Clover....'
and quite concerned
was your headmaster-

how you did despair
like none other
struck by
love's poisoned arrow-

on one dark
and gloomy morrow
came at last
the long-awaited letter

you rushed to open
(how your hands
did shiver!)

its contents
were brief:
' I've chosen Arthur
please forget me
dear Peter'

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!