Feel

Evaluate

Pause

Smile

Hush

Reaching the peak?
such I dreamt never
despite the strife
the sweat and the fire

no legend nor Ulysses
he was the indomitable power
the highest building I stooped to watch
hitting the sky was its tower

that scene humbled and shook me
so long ago but I still remember
it portended to warn me of vanity
a friendly and timely eye-opener

hence, content to know and acknowledge
I am but a from-time-to-time simple writer
skirting on the edges of words and ideas
for consolation and new worlds to discover

upon my dying bed before long
a voice I'll hear:  be a humble learner
as a child you were---in gladsome wonder
forget the peak as you write or speak---just be a beauty-bearer!

Student to Master:
Revered Master, please tell me why I am so unhappy.

Reply: From your tone and posture, so suggestively
this I can say unreservedly:
it's because you have taken yourself too seriously.

We talk too much

few people do we touch

and most rush away as such!

Backward into time there was another me
I was solitary but brave and sure
my finger stretched out to the edge of eternity
life was instant glory---pain I'd not have to endure-

the years spoke later:  how fragile is beauty
for love that's vanished, where's the true cure?
lost innocence weeps to last for a century
the waters left to drink have all become impure.

Bad writing
is prevalent
virulent, insolent-
the writer's very dying

The day is sweating work
the night is restless worry
mortgage is oppressive
the kids are hungry-

taken on a second job
though the pay is paltry
borrow from loan-sharks
they charge 50% interest annually--

my wife is a washerwoman
from a very poor family
she labours without complaint
she's My Fair Lady-

when I'm sad and lonely
I learn to write poetry
my friends say I write badly
and I reply: But it makes me happy!

The day I need for living
but more the night
my burden I'll then set aside
when none is in sight

the roar of waking hours
incessant chatter of those around
the gossip, the hype and the envy
never a pleasant or welcoming sound

city-life, towering high-rise
Rolls-Royces, boutiques, grand cafes
leading brand-names,  flashy aristocrats
top business-names---  million-dollar pays

to all that a stranger am I
Mozart I'll bend towards, poetry I'll write
with none or whatever I need not vie
this simple life I live is just right.

I have nothing to give
nor anything to take
I bring no gift
I am not for anyone's sake-

I cause no grief
no one's dream do I break
I have my own silent belief
what I am I have to self-make

Life we have forgotten
but it does not forget us
it will judge in a future date
whether we have lived with purpose-

we have been too self-conscious
sometimes are vain-glorious
drowned in futile busy-ness
we are empty and exist in barrenness

Ourselves we over-price and embellish

as though we are items in life's market-place

in our name-tags that beholders might relish-

we would die in the absence of applaud or praise

Before you can become
first be calm

We are never of a constant mental state
we respond to every situation to relate

It's my house
  I open and shut my gate
  it's not my responsibility
  to care for any other's estate

This word I fear
        most is'saturation'
        I'd be caught in extremity
        which defeats satisfaction

I have difficulty
  myself to teach
  to others
now could I reach?

Categorise
  and you agonise

Without attitude
     there could be no rectitude

If you have too large a  hope
   would you be able to cope?

Much of living
    is just testing

Life is perenially problematic
     always ensure you make the right pick

Be your own person
     life's first lesson

If the little
         I know does work
         that's enough
         I won't end up broke!

Such I am so used to-
others' insulting remarks
I am immune-- my skin
bears no bleeding marks

My mind finds the words
my heart turns them into language
the former is ruffled feather
the latter is beautiful plumage.

There's no hurry
dawn is yawning still
the first rose is still asleep
silence reigns in the hill.

There's no hurry
dew is still on the grass
the sun is yet to do its round
nature has no cause to rush.

There's no hurry
kids will not be late for school
mum is preparing breakfast
of goodies on the table there will be full.

There's no hurry
sleep is upon my love's tender eyes
I'll let her dream of our wondrous days
when I was her most precious prize.

I should not try
your beauty to describe
only that I should
open my heart to imbibe

Beauty is not just appearance
  it must have the power of endurance

Beauty should not blind
nor make us leave all senses behind

Beauty that's over-magnified
does make for a jaundiced sight

My eyes are enticed----beauty dazzles-
but my heart warns: beware,  love puzzles!

Beauty gladdens the eye
but doesn't bring in the bread
it might be praised sky-high
yet it's food that runs ahead-

time does inexorably go by
wrinkles on beauty's face they shed
if all land and sea were to run dry
we would all starve and soon be dead.

The unseen--invisibility
    makes for the greatest beauty.

Beauty should be felt
not in the least understood
the heart that worships never forgets
thinking is a tool rough and crude.

Because I love you too much
I need say nothing more
these few words are enough
I shouldn't repeat what I said before

too much shaking of the rose
makes its petals fall
let our love dwell in beautiful silence-
it speaks all

Mum led me to sleep
reading my favourite story
now at bedtime I lull myself
reading poetry---

mum is long gone
still remains my tearful memory
her tender voice I hear
as though she's still beside me.

Two points of time
before and after
each person compares
which is worse or better-

living is a tortuous maze
doubts and anxiety they never cease to gather
hopes and dreams struggle all day to survive
life for most is lived in singular and lonely pallor.

Before long
shall come that day
when I'll be silent-- unaware
all hours have passed away.

Climbing the highest peak is a task most monumental
but begging for a favour is infinitely more difficult

Even the best among us are beginners and woe to those who think they have arrived.

And what does that mean:
being a man?
looking at the worst sides
of myself-- I'm merely an unwanted can!

Dear Nancy

I don't even count yet as work-in-progress--
still writing my first few lines.
Call me a 'preliminary'.

Inspiring you?  I really can't--
I struggle, most of the time.

Correct words are pure gems,
hidden in mysterious ocean-depths.
I could never reach there-
I can't swim.

You have the passion and the talent
and I  eagerly await your writings.
Put your trust in yourself alone.

I remain
yours truly
P

I'd rather be bad
than sad

You want a duel?
I'm ready
when and where?
I'll bring you to your knee!

Being brainy
is hardly the answer
experience has shown
it's the mother of disaster

To me you should not dare come
unless and until you are sober and calm