I'm applying for a job
   not my wife Susie
   yes, she's a dance-girl
   why do you disqualify me?

There's a point beyond which pain can no longer hurt the sufferer
as the person has overcome the greatest sorrow that has come his way.

Indeed, the spirit of man is infinitely stronger than the harshest sling of fate.  In this epiphany, he becomes larger than life and death, and emerges, as an uncrowned hero, though known to none else.

So much have I suffered in my illness and loneliness, with love never in sight,  but I've come to accept this suffering as it gives me meaning and the will to live my life every moment to the fullest.

My poetry is my prayer and my religion which give me the courage and strength to endure my daily pain. Of late, my cough has worsened and the weight on my lungs has been unbearable and I pray it will subside the next day.

Suffering doesn't diminish beauty which I've found in my writing, my love of life, of nature, of those I love and the truth in my heart.
I'm certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.

If I were to die upon the morrow, I'll have no cause for regret as my life has been lived to the fullest and as I've been touched by beauty which is too sublime for words to describe.

( * Keats died a week aged 25 after this from consumption which had no cure at that time)

From where I last left off
I was handed what is the now
moments are chains unbroken
I can't escape anyhow-

yet my heart has not wavered
nor what I pledged as love's sacred vow
from where we long ago started
to that undying faith we must bow.

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.

Your parting words
in brightest summer:
'I don't love you anymore
go find another'--

suddenly the sun dissolved
all was the bleakest of winter
each snow-drop was my very heart's silent tear
flowers buried their heads and perished in the heather-

did my heart lose its beat?
I did wonder and wonder
was every finger of mine frost-bitten
did I to despair entire surrender?

frozen in time, transfixed I stood
on the slippery sinking glacier
the winds lashed at my face
like bricks landed on the mirror.

Be fruitful
not over-full

The fruit of knowledge?
a misnomer---civilisation smells
of rotten debris amidst
the ruins of hope-- spells
the doom and decay
of moral character--
sacrilege!

once at the beginning of time
there was beauty, grandeur
innocence, purity and order
even without the use of words
earth was pregnant with a language
with songs and sounds that out-rival
every man-made wonder
at every bend there's the fruitfulness
the tender touch and the smile of nature-

where has the glory fled?*
why have the songs died?
why is human good dead?
why has the heart so bitterly cried?


silence
hush
dusk sets in
then night
makes its presence
the earth is still
not the gentlest murmur
from the bordering sea
nor the faintest rustle
from any hidden tree
not a single bird-song
is heard from the timeless hill

the hours deepen
as the sky's clouds further
they darken
the heart weeps
desolate, alone,
melancholy stricken

the orchard no longer
bears any fruit
it's cold and barren
the farmer turns away
the ground is sullen

no one
could be sure
when would be
the season of fruitfulness
if it would ever happen

it's the world
we live in
desperate
lost
forlorn
helpless
in its fruitlessness.

'Further down the road'
as many would say
but where would it lead?
do they know the way?

How long for sure is it?
would it take a year or a day?
the phrase has no logical locus
best have it put away.

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

Zen is not about wit
only about that which is 'it'

The past we copy
    that's the source of our misery

Clouded is the knowing
      the unknowing is the key
      to understanding

The blindness of knowledge
but this people would not acknowledge

Choose this
the opposite
sets in--in contradiction
that which is, is not 'it'

That which contains the smallest utility
  should not be regarded as futility

Beware, hearing
    is not the same as listening

I walk on
   the distance I mind not
   I follow my feet
   empty is my thought

Loosen the knot
     clarity wrought

A life
      applies
      only to
      those alive

Where the everywhere
      is no where

You remember the land
it no longer recognises you
you went away in your youth
no longer in its view--

you should understand
the old must give way to the new
kids are now adults in lieu
forgotten you are-- that's true!

We were too busy
to know--that we died
little by little--by
convention crucified-

what we are we have given away
to gain acceptance-- we denied
and rejected our intrinsic selves
tears are futile though we have bitterly cried.

This is the angst
  the self-afflicted addiction
  the obsession
  the oppression
  the desperation
  the cul-de-sac

   the load on the back
  heavier each day
that won't go away
  

    the heartache
  the pain
  the desolation
  ( no hope of consolation)
   the conundrum

  the doom and gloom
  the nightmare
  the dark closed room
  of the mind
  with no door
  to escape
  from
  
  vox clamantis in deserto
  (your voice no one would heed
   only the desert wind and sand
   would hear your cry
  as you linger under
  the mocking sky)    
  
  terra incognita
  the mirage
  the struggle
  (never know
   where to go)
  
   the lacuna
  the grey area
  the questioning
  the doubt
  the slow perishing
  of self
  the absence
  of enlightening
  

   the tortuous path
  that must
  be trodden
   as long
  as  life subsists
  all alone

  but when
  would be the end
  of the sojourn?
  as this is no man's land

  why the seeking
  to know?
  what to know?
  how to know?
  what's the compelling need
  to know?

   question after question
   knocked back in mockery
   the perennial rude reply:
  'No, no, no!'.

   another voice
  descends from nowhere:
  ' Why can't you allow
    things to be so?

    look at the flowers
    in the field
    nothing do they know
    yet in such glory
      and splendour they blow'.

Just as there are heroes
there should also be she-roes

Gentle bird, fly, oh fly
   with your tiny wings, soar, oh soar
   to the bright waiting sky
  
   gentle bird, sing, oh sing on high
   a song of peace, joy and hope evermore
   dispel the Covid  that makes the world so sadly cry

I have no wings

        cannot fly

       I have two feet

       can get by

Getting there
so near
so sure
was I
but 'twas a mirage-
no
it was not
in sight
it was far
still
very far
(how far
then?)

getting there
an obsession
my steps I counted
myself I deceive not
(so I boldly thought
no, a sure no)
but
still the darkness
of the lonely night
no moon
nor a single star
to light the way
(how could I
have gone astray?
how could it be
THAT far?)

the map
I studied
every detail
I did jot down
so faithfully
'my compass
could do no wrong
it wouldn't fail me
as I travel along
this route hopefully
faithfully
to the promised land
(did my imagination
go wild?  At the next bend
I should be patient
there I'd find my coveted prize)

things didn't seem
right.  Every step
seemed to lead me
downhill. Why?

getting there?
I was beside myself
strange eyes
seemed to stare
at me from nowhere
( oh my, confidence
displaced!  What would
it be--to be THERE?)

somewhere
that I was sure
came a voice
in mockery
and that was
what it did say:
'  you are your delusion
  your own perdition!'.

I will not accept your gift
  it would later bring me grief.

Life summarised
in three words-
give and take

how much
did you give
to what degree did you take?

that which was taken
how much did you deserve?
what value was that you had given?

self in relation
to every other person
the me-and-you equation

that marks our human condition
a new paradigm shift is imperative
for mankind's amelioration

love is the highest summation
let me not be the taker
but the selfless worshipful giver.

Give me
a song
or a poem-
I'll not feel alone

Give me the wasteland
the remote, the undiscovered
the unfamiliar, the forbidden
I would regard it not as untoward-

there I'll set up camp
dig my well, seek a spot
suitable for crops- write
in  daily calm and unbridled thought

for what stares in my face
is society's endless falsehood and rot
that eats away life's every moral fibre
and for wealth and power people are bought

how peaceful and tender is the night
my every desire is brought to sleep
the past dissolves into silent oblivion
my redeemed self I will guard and keep.

What can I give
if I've not?
Even if you were to strip me
nothing would be wrought

love long ago
in my youth I got
someone stole it away
and now I've nought

if you wish to give me
I'll accept the whole lot:
by some mystery -  a new path
of love I might once again trod

To be left out
the glamour of it all
living life I don't shout
from grace I don't fall.

Life is about misty glimpses
never does it permit a clear view
we struggle blindly for answers
but hardly find a clue--

if life does a colour bear
I would say it's blue
for me a melancholic dreamer-
but I couldn't speak for you.

Poetry I've written
for as long as I could remember
  a 'poet' I still qualify not
honesty bids--perhaps never-

a glow-worm's light does flicker
only faintly---it is not a beaming star
however hard it might endeavour
it could never fly high nor far.

I could never be the light
to brighten up the dark
but would be happy to be a glowworm
with just a gentle spark--

kids will stay late to watch
their mothers' advice they wouldn't hark
higher and higher would I ascend
the bewildered dogs would incessantly bark!

A thousand times
worse than that of the mouse
human gnawing ( behind your back)
bit by bit it seeks to bring you down

there's no truth in what they believe
nor the slightest justification
they are empty and rotten inside
they can't contain their own frustration

how persuasive is their tongue
how they smile when they meet you
( 'How I hate your success and happiness'
  you gave me the perpetual blue')--

  those words unuttered and their feelings they repress
  their teeth with time they furtively sharpen
  they know not they destroy themselves
  the gnawing poisons them-- it festers and does deepen.

You don't believe me? Ask my wife Alice
She will confirm I have no malice

Go for your swim
jump into the sea
I don't have a trunk
alone let me be--

no swimmer am I
I could but bathe in poetry
as you would the waves embrace
words I'd draw to my heart in felicity.

If I could regard
gold as mud
I'd live palatially like a king
though in a tiny hut.

It's a myth
a metaphor
Golden Rule
an error--

though fragile and imperfect
as we poor humans are
what should rule our life
should be simple: kindness does go far.

1 Speak honestly
2.  Act graciously
3.  Accept gratefully
4.  Give generously
5.  Help readily
6.  Befriend selectively
7.  Carry out your work dutifully
8.  Co-operate unfailingly
9  Listen attentively
10.  Observe mindfully
11  Think broadly
12.  Contemplate calmly
13.   Deal justly
14.  Win fairly
15.  Negotiate magnanimously
16.   Aim realistically
17.   Forgive unequivocally
18.   Respect reverently
19   Avoid acting recklessly
20. Pray devoutly

Golden words
I've silently hidden
in my tender heart
yet to be spoken

in their appointed hour
I'll then be ready to utter
after the door of love is open
and I'll be your chosen lover

Good night
we'll meet again
as the first break of light
shines through our window-pane

Good writing is more important
than the best manners
and the finest clothes.

Don't you ever say to me:
'Go tell the marines!'
my dad is Head of the Maritime Ministry
I would cause ugly domestic scenes!

Grace
when not expecting
yet everything
falls in place

Grace---hard to find at any place
   oh sorry!  you meant Miss Grace!

Cactus, cacti
fungus, fungi
locus, loci
alumnus, alumni-

it's just about singular and plural
no reason at all to be hysterical !

My grandpa seldom spoke

into his eyes as a child I looked

when I grew up to the past I took

only then his pain I understood