Where talent and knowledge
stop short, stall and fail
the poet must look away
beseeching imagination's sail

to lead him to the coveted shore  
for to write is to loosen the mind
to visualise that which is hidden behind
the veil where the rarest gems he'll find.

Life is never perfect
but there's no excuse
to unfurl in despair
the Surrender-Flag

Grant me kindness
not success:
in this alone
I'll be fully blessed

What we say
is hardly the truth
words we contrive
our purpose to suit

we can't be our own accuser
our reputation we strive to keep
so used to self-contradiction and hypocrisy
we never lose even a single night's sleep.

I can take it--any time-
call me a *** if you will
I don't expect everyone
to show me love or goodwill.

THE PAST

The distant mindscape: faces, sound, colour, places, images-
Like impressionistic paintings:
The misty sea beneath the pale moon-light,
The far-away green hill,
The fading flower, the silent lake-
The vastness of the summer field-
Forgotten street-lamps
In deserted parts of one’s childhood town,
Children’s laughter and cries
In the after-dinner hours
Watched by their mother’s vigilant and loving eyes
Abandoned boats on an unknown shore
Sharing the sighs
Of the sea and the winds that pass by-
The faint echo of violin strains
Floating late into the depths of the cold night-
Words of those we loved, knew and met-      
Like an endless kaleidoscope, scenes
Drawn on life’s play-field, initialled by
Laughter and tears:
Long-forgotten now, only hints,
Vestiges of clouded moments, lost
In the labyrinth of time.
The past is only fragmented memories
Cradled within the landscape of the mind-
Is it beautiful, sad or bitter-sweet?
Only you and you alone
Know
Only you alone
Can tell.

Key words:

   life
   the world
   people
   self and others
  truth and falsehood
   doubts
   incomprehensibility
   meaning or lack of
   the motives of others
   what's a friend or enemy?
   self-reliance
    courage
   authority
   freedom
   choice
   love and hate
   home
   career
  money
  power
  influence
  budget
  tax
   trust
  deceit
  success
  set-back and failure
  constancy and consistency
  thinking
  feeling
  decision-making
  planning
  e­xpecting
waiting
dreaming

  health
satisfaction
  happiness and sorrow
  death

post scriptum----reader--please do your own list

Should or should not
so many precious lessons they taught.

The Creed of a Humanist
(My 12 Rules of Living)

I might be down, but will not despair

I might be bruised, but will bear

I might fear but will stay

I might fail, but effort I will redouble.

I might suffer, but will not be bitter

I might be alone, but will love being my own

I might be forsaken but will not be broken

I might weep but only in silence

I might be bewildered but will not count it loss

I might be misunderstood but no ill-being will I harbour

I might not be loved but will live not in hate

I might be dying but still the last moment I will be savouring

WHY?

Why is love lost
more poignant than love kept
and linger longer in the heart
when there's nothing left

but the haunt of painful memories
and so many a regret? caught
by hopes crushed and joys stolen
what would be the bereft lover's thought?

no wonder love is bitter- sweet
though it might end in nought
' Our sweetest songs are those
that tell of saddest thought'

so wrote Shelley in his
'Ode To The Skylark'
young lovers be warned
to the great bard's words you should hark.

Dawn yawns o'er river

faint winter morning sunshine

quiet sailing boats

The sound of a bell
as it leaves the bell

A drop of water
still clinging to the tap

The cry of a hawk
before it echoes through trees

A composer's wet ink
an eighth note in motion

My sigh in the morning
just before it heaves from my chest

I'll speak to the night
shut away the voice of day

it doesn't reply
but it reads my heart

not in nonchalance
but as an consoling friend

time falls apart
as the hours dissipate

the moon recedes
the stars they weep

the winds they sigh
the trees are silent in sleep

the stream is still
solemn is the nearby hill

shadows and silhouettes
are they real or imaginary?

does her voice descend
from the river's end

reminding me
of our love that couldn't be?

I wonder and still search-
where's she? is she happy?

what futility!
the past is but a bad memory

Chopin's Nocturnes--piano refrains
drift in the chilly air singing of pains

reverie-ridden, I'm lost in a half dream
as the last star gives up its farewell beam.

WHEN LOVE HAS PERISHED

When love has perished

and past dreams have vanished

when once-carefree kisses

are just ghosts of bliss

when words once so dear

now come to haunt the ear

when the field once endowed with flowers
is now drenched in mud and heavy showers

it is time to move on and say farewell

life offers bouquets still--choose not hell

while the heart still flutters and yearns
while the blood still burns

nothing should hold back life

even though there would still be grievous strife

that all mortals are born to bear

but one should proudly still dare

stand unshaken, unafraid to stare

adversity and pain—anywhere-

with equanimity and grace

in destiny’s unforgiving face
c’est la vie, nothing to grieve, my friend

this is but the flowering of a fresh dawn, not the end.

Is it true
love that's not physical
fails to meet
the transcendental?

Knowing most things
  I can't do-- I lend
my energy to what's
  within my talent's scan

  there's the very likelihood
  I might not succeed
  still I regard it better
  than not to proceed

ROBIN WILLIAMS SAYS FAREWELL

This heavy burden is too painful to bear
Even with my loved ones I can't share
The darkness lengthens everyday
Its shadows haunt and won't go away.

I am sinking, sinking fast
My ship is lost without its mast
If life is such hell
It's time I quit and say farewell

'I will'
is the start
of the will.

Don't be ornate
     and don't exaggerate
     complexity doesn't sell
     in simple clarity let your story tell.

Unloading
this self-flirting
the beginning
to life's meaning

ego- dissipating
feelings a--glowing
love--a-  blooming
an authentic being

Betrayal
should not be
in our vocabulary

done to others
is ignominy
of self---a tragedy

such would
an imprisonment be
the betrayer would never be free

the life worthwhile
embraces humanity
in its true authenticity

The past would not allow
the present is grievously torn
between the now-hours and tomorrow
the never-ceasing tussle-  on which side would the battle be won?

What had taken place resides
in hibernation--- such scenes are not gone
memory lurks still while the future awaits--
to a strange continuum time was born.

I could not be what I was before
on the uncertain tide of  moments I'm borne
my heart oscillates and often I am set apart
by the revisit of sweet joys and sorrows forlorn.

Today the winds rage in fury
yesterday the sun so valiantly shone
never is life a field where the same game
is played but the unforgiving and tortuous sojourn.

THIS IS WHAT I AM
    
    I can't choose
    what to be
    see me
    in my soul's nakedness
    my heart's transparency
    
   if you don't see
   anything that's worthy
   walk away,  instantly
   lest you end in misery

   life is all about
   to be
   or not to be
   verily
   'no' is often
   the best policy
   'yes' said too readily
   has ruined
   so many
   and robbed them
   of their right to be happy

   I can't be
   that someone
   you want to see
   (perhaps in your maiden-fantasy
    you hoped for a knight in shining armour
    but life is not a fairy story-
   no Camelot, I am too ordinary)
  
    think ten times
    before saying 'yes'
    
    it takes only a second
    to say 'no'
    that might be (for you dear sake)
   the best way to go

I'm no writer
nor singer
I'm nothing
just a dreamer

but dreaming
brings in no dough ever
no sane woman
would be my wife or lover.

Thus,  far and wide I wander
with no aim nor purpose
can't say I'm dismal
though friends say I'm useless.

A wise old man met me along the way
my drifting he did praise and encourage
he said he was like me in his youth
I remember him well now in my fading old age.

LIFE IS NOT FOR LAUGHS
                    Why did Robin Williams commit suicide-
                    Was life to him not a comedy-too much pain inside?
                    His heart--from the world hidden
                    He must have felt that life was rotten
          
                    But he was an actor and had to pretend
                   The jester with suffering untold had to laugh till the show's end
               'Bleed, o bleed, my heart, bleed--acting is such a burdensome task
                    I am weary--life *****---farewell, farewell to this farce'

Reason moves a step at a time
   intuition has run the whole course in no-time

Frost
a word
that chills
my spine
don't quite know
why
are my winter-years
telling on me?
have I given up
my toast
of younger days
when life meant
the most
to my brave
and proud heart
when I knew
but kisses and wonders
and no tears?

did love fail me
and beauty hide away?
was it my fault?
when life froze?

how many winters
would come when most
had run their course
and left but sad traces?
now fled is the splendour
what's left of youth to boast?

this is the time
the curtain to draw
I long for sleep
I have no more promises
to keep
all my feelings
are numb
buried in frost.

Don't ask me
to advise
all my life I had problem
giving myself the right advice

Do women love differently from men?

2019 the new year
some so-called friends you would drop
others you wouldn't care to draw near
full-stop!

This is the beauty
of ignorance-
you don't need to argue
  in any instance.

Sunshine, moonshine, shoeshine
only the last I can claim to be mine.

Which direction ahead should I take?
    I don't trust the GPS
    the surest road-map is kept
    in my heart and I don't have to guess

    my love, hold my hand
    we will sing and we will talk
    remembering the time when we first pledged our love
    I'll love you even more with every step we walk

'Leaning'
a word
that unsettles
can't I stand
on MY own?

a leading-on
towards something
that's not myself?

is it fear
desperation
doubt
a need
restlessness
confusion
hopelessness?


holding on to
a doctrine
a dogma
an idea
a cause
a leader
an advisor
a teacher
a benefactor?

bewildered
lonely and lost
it does seem
akin to submitting
to a power external
with no faith
in my strength internal--

throw away
I must
the crutch
of false comfort
that would render
me smaller
than what
I am
or could be
only then
would I recover
all that I've lost
and from
the highest mountain
look down
upon the world
and all the people around
and shout
clear and loud:
I am my own Ulysses
even sailing under
the wildest sea
and the darkest cloud
I am the invincible me
leaning on nothing--finally
I score my self-defining victory!

The 'I'
is the problem
not either eye

Love does not have
to wear any badge
it's not for public display
it only needs to self-engage

What will I be
fed on today?
I like this uncertainty
as I make my way.

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 poetry
finds and defines me

as long as
I stay with it
we're a unity

to it I'm tied
in continuity

faith, the utmost faith
is required
in this mutual loyalty

when I'm sinking
it will embrace me
as I step into finality

I had no quarrel with time
     but it looks askance
     as though saying too long
     I have been around
     or worse--that something wrong
     I have done--

     the sentinel eternal
     the judge inimical
     the party unfaithful
     the heart unsentimental

     but
     I'll not be cowed
     to myself I belong
     if life is a battlefield
     I would be my own general

      winter chills in season
      unforgivingly
     but my heart
     shall not be frozen
     man shall never
     be smaller than fate
     there's no glory
     in out--living
     if with meaning
     I have lived

     life's chaos and angst
     has not diminished me
     I have stood up
     with dignity
    
     in my nameless humility
     and my naked humanity
     I am content  
     and joyful
     ( despair and regret
      set aside)
     with what remnant
     to me
     has been given.

I should not be afraid
to talk to the moon and every star
the world belongs to those who dare dream
with love no dream is ever far
and I shall crown thee
the queen of my dream
I compare thee with the shining diamonds
in the sky---but still brighter you do beam

I was a child then
leaves and flowers
I adored even when
they were drenched in rain-showers.

My joys multiplied
foliage of every kind
stirred my imagination
deep impressions it left behind

seamless colours, shapes, sizes
a collage that did humble
the paintings of the masters
whatever genius they did assemble

time has stolen such grace and majesty
old age is telling on my face
I'd gladly perish with every
flower or leaf where belongs my place.

I would not stay
a moment longer
the message is in your eyes
accusing me as the wrong doer-

I would not speak
every word I had spoken before
the grassland and sea had heard
my every syllable and song before-

I would not remind
love should its constancy know
imprinted in my faithful heart
such I need not prove or show-

I would not plead
supplication would be in vain
of the past's splendour I thought
now an endless chronicle of pain-

I would not harbour
any anger or hate
new love you have found
that joy is yours to celebrate-

I would not return
I have nothing here more to claim
empty is the heart that does no longer yearn
the winds of fate have spoken and swept away my name.

Promises the morning not for once does make
I have to find the day's meaning for my own sake

It's not time
I count
it's the moment
and I
interfacing

none is there
to watch
or judge
me beside

the pulse
of the now
the fibre
of being

the test
of living
the air
I'm breathing

the thoughts
brewing
the will
in harnessing

the tension
unfolding
the wit
in pitting

the insight
awakening
the path
for charting

the clay
for moulding
the anvil
for beating

all in all
the becoming
in what
I am giving

frail though I am
in the enocuntering
knowing yet
I might be stumbling

but steps of the past
I would not be retracing
to what's before me I must
attend--there would be no regretting.

Life has spoken:
'death is never strong
its darkness and doom has been broken
the living will in triumph ever move along-

youth's dreams shall not be forgotten
its innocence has recorded no wrong
love and beauty to its heart is given
let it then sing its immortal song'.

Could love be
too much, in fine excess?
what would it do to you?
would that be blissful happiness?

What should love be then?
but what's just enough?
who's the giver and receiver-
of what build is their amorous stuff?

Some want without satiety
for others, a bit would suffice
how would you define yourself?
think carefully, yourself you would surprise.

And now, you turn to me to ask
to what category do I belong
silly me,  I never put myself to task-
I love in every way that does no wrong.

FACES
I share the joy of happy faces
But sad faces linger long in my mind
There is no Arcadia or paradise on earth
So much pain and misery is inherited by mankind.

Ah, my love,  I see your tender face and your gentle smile
I wish I would never make you cry
If  in my duty I should fail
I would be unworthy—it would be best if I die.

Why the rush
the eagerness to know?
sunset is not yet
the day still retains its glow-

rest will soothe my bones by dusk
and sleep will accompany  me till the morrow
there will be time abundant to ponder
I won't allow any anxiety to grow-

how patient is the rosebud
time it abides by to silently blow
summer walks just behind spring
in the right season it will follow--

and you, my beloved
away too soon I shouldn't go
my hidden words are yet to unfold
the moon its full radiance is waiting to proudly show.

This is no season
for me an old man
to be a dream-chaser
what has gone before
is dust and debris now
there's nothing beyond-

the fence that encloses me
within its bound
mocks me relentlessly
if I should ever wander
to the green pastures
of the long ago

it shows no sympathy
it judges harshly
it doesn't mince its words:
'  let your fancy go to sleep
  unforgiving is memory
  let it rest and nothing should you keep

  you had the chance then
for your every pick
the sunshine of time
has sunk into the abyss
of night.  Your steps
you won't be able to retrace
don't you feel
the heaviness of your heart
your fading voice
your faltering feet
and the fatigue of love
and the shying-away of beauty?'

This is the season
of remorse
of regret
of pain
the cessation
of passion
when what's left
is but dreams broken
and forgotten

the last melancholic notes
of a once proud and bold love-song.