There's no fear of others
if one fears not of their own self
it's the lack of faith of the person
that has created this dilemma

A new generation
or a carry-forward
of the past
what are we?

Have we just
put on new clothes
to be different
but grasped

by what went before?
is civilisation a mere mask?
If we're mere copies
how would our virtues last?

It will only be
a new generation
if the past were cast
to oblivion- in this alone we'll trust

We're each
     just one line
    yours, theirs
    and mine

    yet we're alike
    and aligned
    in soul, heart
   and mind

   one line
   with 1,000 combined
   a formidable force
   becomes-- we'd not be 'allein'

  our voice
  will be heard
  at home
  at the town-hall
  the school
  the community
  places of worship
and every government compound-
a worthy message
people will find

we'll speak up
against conflicts
and wars
all forms of cruelty
and destruction
injustice, exploitation
acts against humanity
and the unforgivable loss
of human lives

we're each
just one line
but can we walk away
from the turmoil
the devastation
or ignore
the ceaseless
helpless cries?

We'll come together
in an explosive voice
a universal anthem
we'll chant-
the Flag of Peace
and Humanity
we'll bear fearlessly
to our sacred call
and duty
we can't be blind!

In your dreams
you're a different person
could it be this-
that you prefer that version?

That was your problem-
you knew too much
yourself you choked
with life you lost touch

knowledge you swallowed
without any further regard
the window of life shut on you
you lost your soul and heart!

How can you be free
as someone's carbon-copy?

My voice counts for nothing:
vox clamantis in deserto
I'm the unnoticed and obscure
one that nobody would want to know

but I don't the least deplore
my heart and soul is pure
no one heeds my voice
but I'm fulfilled and I endure

The world
may be broken
let not your dreams
be stolen-

the worst words
may have been spoken
(over such you've no control)
let not yours be inanely blown-

life is tough, harsh, solemn
few moments are golden
none can escape such:
find courage of your own

the world
may be broken
trust yourself
let your best be sown.

It's still early days
the seed has just been planted
it will take time
for the crop to be harvested.

It's still early days
the heart is on guard
contemplating, seeking
the right path to chart.

It's still early days
finding the right words is hard
the self is yet to settle
from the past it has to part

but the time has come:
I'm yearning for you in my heart
our love has now blossomed
from its patient tender bud.

You can't squeeze
from a stone any juice
go in search in a garden
for a ripened fruit

someone's heart
you can't claim
love is such
call it by any name

nothing can be
as desired as not-wanting
in your self-created sufficiency
where would there be any disappointing?

In response to an abstract painting of Nathan Moshinsky:

This is a masterpiece !  It strikes me with its powerful singularity-  the mosaic bears deep words-
it's beautiful poetry and resonates with the weight of tantalising atonal music.

What I write
might not be right
but I'll not be stopped:
free expression is my right

when such freedom
is stifled or suffocated
democracy will witness
an instant moral death

The next is no guarantee
to be better or happier:
hold your own where you are
this is your sanctum, sure and secure

Myself I'll empty
in holding nothing
I'll be set free

what will destroy
is the 'plenty'
it goes on infinitely

that which is greedy
knows no sufficiency
its needs run ceaselessly

myself I'll empty
readily, happily
in this is my tranquillity

You're the river
me, the ripple

you're the rainbow
me, the cloud below

you're the breeze
my face you kiss

you're the flower
me, the stem holding you together

you're the inspirer
me,  the singer

you're my heart-string
me, your violin

you're the sunbeam
me,  on which you shine--the stream

you're the star
me, the light I receive from afar

you're my answer
me, the inquirer

you're the prize
me, you tantalise

you're the sentences
me, a series of phrases

you're the meadow
me, the grass below

you're the bee
I'm the flower, waiting for thee

you're the pyjama
me, the wearer

you're my finder
me, the lost one in wander

you're the teaching years
me, the one you wiped my past tears

you're the destination
me, heading in that direction

you're my all
you'll never allow me to fall.

you' re still my lover
when my days are over.

Let others speak
you'll have your turn
be patient, listen
much will you learn

Life has endless eyes
it pries
be aware
it will tantalise

look away
secure your own prize
be your own master
in this alone will you rise

You might be liked
or not
in this conundrum
everyone of us is caught

should we bother?
Too often we forgot:
we shouldn't be ruffled
for life is just too short

the soundest psychology
is to be self-wrought
in sufficiency and contentment
nothing else need to be on board

Life in one word:
wishing

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!

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

Don't tell me
the bravest
have no fear
or fears-
human they are
like me and you-
their strength
does wane
they falter too

for courage
is relative
a matter of degree-
in the battle-field
death stares
at their faces
they'd wish
to return to family
and abandon
possible victory

prudence
is stronger
than bravery

the bravest prefer
to live than to die
for king or country

The hard part
is not doing
how people inch to act
they know no ceasing

myriad words they pour out
daily,- unending
bent only on
the same thinking

their minds too stimulated
never in silence, resting
other people's ideas
they can't stop picking

what has been taken in
  is like leech sticking
on the skin-  time rushes in compounding
  what's left is but the death of meaning

They were always
ahead of me
but somehow
theirs was not the victory

on past knowledge
they relied-- blindly
and were not aware
I'd since changed my strategy

H   Hold on

O  Open to possibilities

P   Partner it

E    Engage with it

Upper class
middle class
low class

measured
by wealth
inheritance
education?

I'm a humanist
hence
humanity is my class

no distinction
do I trust

Life's inevitability-
old age
I accept
I don't rage

others are upset
they debate-
with beauty and wonders
I engage

time is tyrannical
often it does berate
I look askance
the day I celebrate


aside I've willingly set
every grievance and regret -
when the final chime strikes
I'll ready to embark on the passage

The mind proposes
the heart opposes

Imagination
is either constructive
or arid
but many
can't distinguish -
deeper they sink
into its labyrinth
and are unconscious
their pursuit is sterile
and unproductive

it's hard
and often impossible
to step back
or retrieve

yet they cling on-
so strong
is their attachment
and belief

I can't write
like Keats or Shakespeare
a simple note, there and here
will adequately endear-

I can't sing like Luciano
Carreras or Domingo
' Happy birthday' and ' Home, sweet home'
will make my heart glow-

I can't climb Mount Everest
nor sail the wildest sea
but I can take part in a 5 mile walk
it will make me really happy-

I can't be like
Napoleon or Genghis Khan
but my duty I shirk not
my best is yet to be done!

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.

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!

Yes, I'll be back
and not slack
substance, my words
will not lack

instead the hardest walls
they will easily crack
when meaning has been found
where would there be any lag?

Innocence
  wins over experience
  it holds no offence
  it needs no defence

experience
stifles innocence
it steals the latter's beauty
and robs it of its essence.

I'm member
of no club
on my own
happily I sup

if I were there
I'll find the perpetual snub
I'm at my kitchen now
doing my meal--where's the rub?

I ask no prize
from life
being sufficient
on my own:
to that direction
I never turn
my eyes

all wanting
is but strife-
only a child
would this need
out of insecurity
and pride

living
on my own terms
in simplicity
acceptance
and contentment
is my most
precious prize

never, never
have I ever wished
for any paradise.

I choose
the life of freedom
lived in poverty
over the serfdom
of prosperity

For most
life seems
no more
than a paraphernalia
of trivia
the same monotony
which they somehow
treasure
although such experiences
are hollow
and bear
no beautiful feature

ah,  the blight
of human nature
lost in the labyrinth
of ignorance
stranded in
the realm
of lost pleasure!

I know
I'm small
puny
but this doesn't
hold me captive:
I'm still free
and nothing
is lost

size doesn't count
and I've seen
the big and strong
in life's ocean
being hit
and tossed
felled
rendered helpless

I'm tiny
in comparison
with the rest
but not small
in heart
or spirit:
my own flag
I raise
my song
I sing
to the remotest
I dare travel
the highest mountain
I scale
the sea
most treacherous
I sail
fearlessly-
and upon
my last breath
to my life
I raise proudly
a  resounding toast.

I know
I'm small
puny
but this doesn't
hold me captive:
I'm still free
and nothing
is lost

size doesn't count
and I've seen
the big and strong
in life's ocean
being hit
and tossed
felled
rendered helpless

I'm tiny
in comparison
with the rest

but not small
in heart
or spirit:
my own flag
I raise
my song
I sing
to the remotest
I dare travel
the highest mountain
I scale
the sea
most treacherous
I sail
fearlessly-
and upon
my last breath
to my life
I raise
a  resounding toast.

Happiness is no manna
falling from heaven
you've to work at it
over and over again

Are you gentle
or prone to anger?

That which can be described or uttered
does blemish what's the greatest splendour
residing in the deepest labyrinth of the heart
it can't be drawn upon -- this wonder

of wonders whose abode
is beyond the ken of the seeker-
it's the sanctity beyond all sanctities-
the mystery known to no discoverer

Ah, how our hearts long
to love and belong!