Where, oh where, should l
next place my heart?
I've run short of space
I've lost the art.

One chamber is for sorrow
another for joy
others speak of days of old
when I was a carefree little boy.

There are secret cupboards
where tears aplenty once I did hide
age has taken its ravaging toll
time I took regrets to set aside

But there's that sanctum
which ever does abide
carved to belong but to me and you
in no other place should our love reside.

Life is strewn with myriad fragments
somehow they intertwine
past, present and future
they mysteriously combine

to be harnessed to create
a  lasting landscape I could claim to be mine
life should be of architectural proportion and beauty
it must inspire, ennoble, enrich in every detail and design.

Farewell to the song
to every beauty beside
life is not eager to last long
joy is reluctant to reside

dreams to the foolish do belong
the heart is weak and cannot guide
the journey's road-signs they sadly prove wrong
in the end only disenchantment and sorrow abide.

Let me dream

but not too long

lest I wake up not

and lose hearing life's waiting song

Of course I walk
can't you see
I have no car or bike
take a train? where's the money?

home, what a sweet word
o my rich friend, tell me where
give me supper, provide a bed
I'll happily follow you there!

I'll be the least upset
if the reader were to interject:
how bland your poems are
tasteless, colourless, abject!

Ah, where's my imagination fled?
are the flowers in my heart 's garden dead?
how would I fresh seeds cultivate?
would any poem of mine be worthy to celebrate?

Most are shifters
  few are stayers

GROPING AMONG SHADOWS

We all ***** among shadows
but whose—ours or others’?
can we tell to whom such belong-
angels’ or monsters’?

more real than self itself
the unconscious wrestles with the ego
we pride our knowledge
but indeed so little of ourselves we really know

what makes us what we are?
where is the fountain of our self-knowing?
are we the real we in our waking
or in our dreaming?

should we be afraid of our own shadows?
how do we make them disappear?
but how could I disassociate with my alter ego
when it never goes away-even as I am writing it’s here!

Do I choose my dream
or does it choose me?
am I the water or the stream?
which of us dwells in fantasy?

Am I the stem
or the flower?
the clock's seconds--hand
or the beat of the hour?

Boats left all alone
   in shining emerald sea
   dark secrets they hold

Life is neither 'no' or 'yes'
most parts are just jest

LIFE’S CONUNDRUM

Don’t be too nice
It could cause your downfall
People take you to be weak
Most regard you to be small.

They are saying-the big people
Are to be reckoned with—handle them with care
But since you are small
None bothers whether you are here or there.

These people like to pontificate
Vilify, condemn or criticize
You are small and can’t fight back
They don’t hesitate  to despise.

Don’t be too nice
Be firm, have faith and walk tall
You should be no one’s prisoner or slave
Nor should you bend to people’s bidding or call.

Poetry
is not just about words or rhyme
its dwells in the soul's sanctum
a mystery that outlasts time
the poet is the lone prophet
though he speaks from the wilderness
those who have ready ears will hear
poetry's sweet and soothing voice--even in the night's deepest stillness

Be naked but don't take off your clothes
I don't mean literarily
only that you should open up
to be your real self and not be an ambiguity

At the forest edge

all foliage is mist-covered

strange silence pervades

THE BEAUTIFUL ADDICTION

Ah, I am an addict, a hopeless addict
my poetry is the cause
I consume more and more of this drug
I can't stop or pause

so I'll call this
the beautiful addiction
you fellow-poets will surely understand
my magnificent perdition.

Is a poem
also a short story
but in a language
of a different complexion
about life
in every unique facet
and phase
its mystery, poignancy
its joys and tears
its sorrows and tragedy?

Every poem then
is a plot
the poet charts
his territory
where man looks
at himself, at others
at the world and universe
in awe and wonder
in fear and terror
in clarity or ambiguity-
the human heart
he explores
nothing escapes
his unflinching scrutiny-

verily
a poem
is a short story.

Illusion
choosing not to see
turning away
in stubborn folly--

illusion
the ruin of so many
rose-tainted eyes
that embrace blindly--

illusion
the perpetual love-story
Cinderella and the midnight chime
who would forget Sleeping Beauty?

illusion
dreams caress so sweetly
the wild heart can't let go
it denies reality--

illusion
this never would perish---beauty
the crown of living
it would last for many a century--

illusion
now I'm old and weary
the screen of the past
unrolls-- even now I'm not set free.

If you will wait and stay silent

  a moment will visit you and speak:

  your life is a miracle, not an accident-

  live, create, rejoice, celebrate, aim for the peak!

That grey shade
which shuts away
the light of the heart
even on a bright day-

once happy was the glade
such tender words wanton lovers did once say
why has love fallen apart?
why must joy and beauty fade and decay?

TEN  HAIKU

1

Far away
long ago
only memories and feelings now.

2  
Worn-out books
on neglected bookshelf
I remember my school-days.

3  
Winter night in Melbourne
hastening feet
muffled coughs.

4  
Depth of night
she stands under the street-lamp
for whom is she waiting?

5
Last tram from the city
a manuscript
of sad and tired faces.

6  
Moonlit night
lovers look at the moon and stars
  fishermen watch their nets.



      7

      The old man looks at the sky
       heaving a deep sigh
       the kids call ‘Grandpa, full moon tonight!’


8    
        Violin strains drifting
        in the night  commingling  
        with the sighing of the winds.

9      
       I was writing a poem
       a tiny bird was pecking on my window
       I forgot my words.

10    

        The last winter leaves
        scatter on the wet ground
        the crows step on them and fly away

I failed-   BADLY
      as I took life too SERIOUSLY

Too many lives

are led in vying

leaving no room

for living

Winter is not yet

autumn hasn't gone to sleep

she has memories to keep

LYRICS THE BEATLES SHOULD HAVE WRITTEN

I can't linger on
here I don't belong
to stay a minute longer
would do you more wrong

the sight of me
hurts you like a sharp knife
I see the anger in your eyes
and we don't want such a wretched life

Chorus
And who says love is sweetness
do they really know?
give credit to those who say
love is bitterness--yes, it's so

I must walk away
here I would cause you more sorrow
I would rather suffer than you
now I'll say goodbye and go

No grudge do I bear, verily
you say you love another--that's fine by me
if that makes you happy
go for it---just don't say you are sorry.

Chorus
And who says love is sweetness
do they really know?
give credit to those who say
love is bitterness--yes, it's so

LIEBESLEID

I can't find another
and in the wasteland of love
I'll linger
watched by the last star above

I can’t love another
you are my first and last
I would rather
not to have loved you in the past

THE BOUNTY OF MY HARVEST

The harvest is over this year
I wait for next year's summer
Nature never fails in its promise
One season faithfully follows another.

Yet the bounty of my harvest
Is richer than any that nature can provide
In your loving heart shines the eternal green pasture
I need nothing more---all else I set aside.

Our love is the ripening
Of all that grows in this fertile land
Far away from the fever and fret of life
Upon luxuriant and faithful soil we stand.

Every seed of love we plant together
Will flower and grow to be ours alone
This is our pasture of endless beauty and joy
This is the most splendid bounty of what we have sown.

I am but a splinter
from the flame that you are
I am but your silent lover
watching you from afar.

I am but a dreamer
the moth seeking the star*
I am but the foolish writer
burning with the wildest fire.

Simple truth ?
an oxymoron*
it has a thousand faces
could be a flower or a thorn

On slender branches

yellow sprouts stretch out to sky

a perfect morning

FIVE HAIKU (5th COLLECTION)
1

Two old men converse
in low monotonous tones
their eyes seldom meet

2

Evening deepens
casting shadows on the field
the birds fly away

3  The bird in the cage
    it struggles to fly away
    as it thinks of home

4

I bought a painting
(from the antiquarian shop)
marked: ' painter not known'.

5

One of the kids cried
(they were ******* gelato)
' ****, I have dropped mine!'

Life is fickle
has a thousand
and one role
challenging
everyone to climb
its  wet and slippery pole
how would you do that?
you couldn't even hold

but life says:
I was born to test
whether you are
cowardly or bold
and I welcome only those
who are on my side
willing to play and roll
as I set myself in motion
in weather hot or cold
my wiles and secrets
could never be understood
or ever told

don't bribe me
I don't sell
or hand out
any gold

now
here's the waiting pole
if you have the guts
let them unfold!

FIVE HAIKU ( 4th COLLECTION )
1

In the dry marshland
the pelican flicks its wings
it looks at the sky

2   Where are you David?
I am in the garden mum
I caught a spider

3

No smiles in the train
mobile is the companion
long and sad faces

4

The telephone rings
the child rushes to answer
dad says he's not home

5

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain
water rushes to the drain
the kids clap and clap

5  HAIKU ( 3rd COLLECTION)

1

The last train arrives
  a man in dark suit alights
  the neighbour’s dog barks

2

    A broken cycle
    leaning against an old fence  
    who was the owner?

3

    The evening bell rings
     children rush home from the field
     it is dinner time

4

  It’s a holiday
  all the city’s shops are closed
  no beggar is seen

5
   In the wet marshland
   the pelican spreads its wings
   ready for take-off

Run for cover?   
 mutant is at your heel   
 it has no colour   
 your peace it will steal


      this is the  Doom -Era   
    to fate we must yield     
    hope the jab knows no error 
   courage is not a reliable shield

A DRY SPELL

It's a dry spell
the land is barren
all the crops fail
flowers perish in the garden

my heart now knows
the driest spell
since you walked away
my pain words can scarcely tell

I remember then
the field was bursting
with the sweetest roses
when we met in that spring

my heart is now
only a wasteland
you caused all the flowers
to die-I hope you understand

The steel-clad walls of the past
have been demolished once for all
pages of old books have been torn
and thrown into the fire---this is a new dawn and call-

the self shall no longer live
in chains nor fettered by blameful time
its garden is replanted with fresh flowers
weeds have been uprooted and the future outcome

shall reward the resurrected heart
ah, how wondrous, inspiring and precious
every living moment is -- bursting with unrestrained song
every breath drawn in is a feeling miraculous

if I were destined to die on the morrow it would be
a blessing still with your every embrace and kiss
love, the taste of love and all its glorious splendour
I would have inherited for eternity--nothing else would I ever miss.

DON’T GET MOON-STRUCK

Don’t get moon-struck
It’s full moon tonight
You would lose all your senses
You can’t think right.

You hear the  seductive music playing
The **** buxom lady is singing
Your heart goes wild with beating
You can’t hold back your longing.

You go forward to the singer
With your fantasy and say-
Join me for a drink
Midnight is still far away.

Meantime, the band goes frantic
(The moon never seems more bright)
The rhythms sound like those of Bolero
Of reality you totally lose sight.

You have had too much wine
Courage is talking louder and louder-
O Lily, I truly love you
I could never love another.

How sweet would the honeymoon be
Under the beautiful Hawaiian night-
I am the world’s happiest man
All my woes have taken flight.

Twenty-five years hence
It’s full moon again
You walk alone in the sombre night-
'Ah, I never knew love is so much pain'

None could I blame
for my being lost
in the wilderness of time
youth was too proud
and boasted: my way I know
leave me alone--whatever the outcome
I'll accept---realisation came
too late and I was trapped
in quagmire and couldn't escape--

those wasted years
the blackout
the horrors
the fears and tears
the tormenting doubts

then to myself I said:
I must get out
too young am I
not ready to succumb
and die

it was not prayer
(I scarcely knew how)
that saved my life
but those few words
that suddenly dawned
upon me like a voice
from the sky:

live, live you must
the flower of love
is just beginning to bud
luring, awaiting your embracing
you would have a new start
look, look inside the beauty
in your virginal heart--

a strong force from nowhere
held my hand in a second
and led me to a dry land
how mysterious, even now
I couldn't understand--

the trees all at once in a train
glittered with blinding light
the path was the softest terrain
gone were the shadows of night

and lo!----along the way
an endless stream of flowers
was dancing and singing
and luscious grass was waving from the bowers-

home, o home I was heading
the music of love was ringing
life henceforth would be heaven
as I had been released from my past burden.

'DO EVERYTHING ONCE’ ?

‘ Do everything once’—how common the exhortation
  Why just once, why not twice or even thrice?
  How many lives have been ruined
  By this inane advice!

  ‘Do everything right’  
   That should be the way to go
    Life has too many pitfalls
    Those who have fallen will tell you so.

The surest and safest way of escape

is in total self-abandonment

despite adversity of any size and shape

the heart in quietude is never shaken

FIVE HAIKU

1

Beneath the blue sky
a dinghy sails in the sea
sky and sea embrace

2  

Last rays of the sun
children hear the mother’s call
‘dinner is ready’

3  

Picture on the wall
I was playing in the field
Tears began to fall

4  

Rain falls on the roof
sa, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa
all sounds are drowned  

5

Letter has arrived
I rush to read its contents
It reads: Love, goodbye

THE CALL OF GENIUS

Genius wakes trembling
From its deeply-troubled sleep
' I've a gift that I can't describe
Can I this something keep?'

The call of genius from an unknown realm
That which breaks the mould of the owner's past and mind
Its imagination encircles and encompasses the universe entire--
Ideas, images, figures, patterns and shapes of every kind.

'Am I real or am I in a dream?
I seem to have lost what I was in the past
Life and people are strange and the world seems to have changed
Whom and what can I trust?'

What is genius and where is its abode?
Who can its mystery decipher ?
A question even the owner can't answer--
He walks, often sadly, as a loner.

It would be a new beginning
  when the vain-glorious self is set aside
  the ego evaporates into nothing
  with the demise of pride.

  A fresh life would be waiting
  beauty enters the heart to abide
  in the fusion of love enduring
  is there any wanting beside?

Tell me the colour
of your past and I
will construct your story
and explain to you the how and why

Tell me the colour
of your life in the present
I'll compose for you
music that speaks of your heart's hidden content

Tell me the colour
of your dream--your fondest
its semblance I shall interpret
and relate how you will be blest

Tell me the colour
of the future in which you want to be
I'll look through my prophetic prism
which will reveal whether you would be sad or happy

My mind
how do
I make it
TOTALLY mine?

A fledging writer
but a budding jester.

The 'me' is not what a person is
but a pigment of what's outside
I struggle all my life to be free
from society's insidious bite-

the battle has been won at last
there's peace and contentment on my side
the authentic and intrinsic shall never be compromised
only then in truth and grace shall the self abide.

Be patiently silent
in your sorrow
be humbly silent
in your joy

THE SAGA OF THE HUMAN HEART

The human heart breaks
but mends itself somehow
though dim is the horizon
and tears hold for now

from the ruins of pain
and lonely sorrow
hope will resurrect and faith will abide
upon the awaiting morrow

love will lead through
the darkest of night
and the bereft heart it will console
the hidden sun will appear and shine in brightest light

the human heart might break
a million times but it would not die
nothing could compare with its nobility
and endurance---that's the reason why