..but silence
is both defence
and attack
subtle
surreptitious
lethal
its colour
is black-
even
the strongest wall
of the opponent
it can crack!

Ah, how
so very weak
is words
in comparison
even the lightest punch
does it lack!

No, I can't accept
your batch
of 'top contributor'
one swallow
doesn't make
a summer
I'm but a winnow
meandering over
a limited space
but exulting
as a free fellow

only a faint colour
in life's canvas
but I am
no painter

only a passerby
a traveller
a voice unheard
well aware
life's a brief play
and too soon
the show
will be over

Don't regard
me a poet
I'm not
perhaps never
to qualify
as one-
a solemn truth

still swimming
in the sea
of words
often struggling
to keep
my head
above water
to escape
drowning

so
don't call
me a poet
I'm only still
a weaver
of sentiments
a learner
from the Masters
a lone traveller
in the desert
in search
of self
to place
myself
right in
fitting words

yet
I despair not:
it's enough
to have
into such
ventured

I'm sky
earth
wind
cloud
water
tree
leaf
grass
meadow

I'm such
being drawn in
and inspired
by my poetry
and my love
of nature

in this oneness
is the endless splendour-

when my words
you treasure
and adore
you yourself
will become
as much as
this inseparable
miracle

No
I don't know
as you think
I do
I've hardly started:
there's the river
but its water
doesn't flow
and by its bank
I'm waiting
perhaps
it might tomorrow

no
life is my
not yet
it will take
many, many more
years before
I really
come to know

In retrospect:
all things
would have been
different-
everything
would have neatly
hung on
the right peg

Does feeling
incorporate
unconscious thinking?