Suspended in time
thwarted ambitions
trapped and imprisoned
by myriad vexations-

dim and misty horizons
the test of uncertain circumstance
dreams that dissolve and disintegrate
life seems more like a death-sentence.

Not once, not twice
but out and out
couldn't count how many tries
this existential doubt

To hold on
   but to what?
   we are born
   to cope with the hard-

   rising every dawn
  one feels the rut
  and the nauseam drawn
  on our life that tear us all apart.

A scholar?  Never!
nothing much to score
poetry with passion I love
all I wish is to write more

I've no right nor reason
to claim what I'm not
nor should I ever consider
I'm worthy to be well-thought
of.   For the world passes by
for everyone and I'm not even seen
lining up in an anxious queue--
staying away from the crowd
is my mantra.  Crying aloud
is not part of my agenda--

knowing what I am
and what I am not
makes me sober
and that I never forgot-

I'm in the sun
I'm in the rain
I don't seek pity
though I live in pain-

I'm in summer
I'm in winter
I'm where destiny leads
come whatever the weather

and this I do know
and hold dear
life has its misery
but also splendour

dreams and hopes
love in resplendent wonder
the heart has its own reasons
the endless adventurer

I've sailed the seas
traversed the wildest plain
I've walked in the thickest snow
given another chance, shall dare again

none does and never shall know my name
the night at its appointed time shall descend
under the patient watching stars I'll lay down to rest
in a faraway make-shift tent.

Just an idea
the world is lost
(what's thinking worth?
should we boast?)

I'd rather be
a flower or a pebble
without a human mind
never causing grief or trouble.

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.

The saying of a renowned person doesn't necessarily mean
it's worthy of note as some of theirs are prone to being prosaic while that  from a lay person could contain wisdom or insight, but most people are not circumspect enough to spot this as they are mesmerised by 'big names'

An ordinary day
but a good day it is
when nothing is amiss

Last week

I thought I was on

to something novel

and felt exhilarated



yesterday

I was in deep doubt



today

I gave up on the idea-

felt quite relieved really



tomorrow

I have to start all over again

Dear John,

Life is lived in the singular---we should know what we want
and what to reject/avoid. We are alone, ever alone--not in existential angst but cannot escape the onslaught of destiny, life's suffering
and, also to some extent, the malice of the world. We adapt and we accept--the journey and meaning or lack of meaning is ours--ours alone.  Happiness is subjective and definable only by our own self-
we never need to envy or copy others'. Some trust we must have in others, but excessive could be ruinous--this is confirmed by my past experience.

I am the cynic you have discovered but it's also healthy and makes me stronger-but I don't think I am a misanthrope. We don't belong to others but to our self, in the last analysis.

Am I happy? Yes, in an over-average measure--cynicism doesn't destroy happiness--it's a survival tool.

You said I was a pessimist--yes, I am but pessimistic people can also find their peace of mind and happiness as the optimists. We are all different and choose the path that bests suits us.

I am truly surprised that I have more friends and acquaintances than I could count despite the person I am and the way I manifest myself in my contacts with others.  One should have friends or live in isolation and loneliness but has to choose wisely--true friendship
is hard to find and one who dares say so-and-so is MY BEST FRIEND runs a great risk as human nature is inherently selfish and often unforgiving.  I don't run away but am ever-circumspect.
Friendship, apart from sincerity and honesty, must have this basic
quality---CONSISTENCY--but how many of us, even with the will and intention, could succeed in this? Thus, I conclude: be a realist not an idealist.

Congratulations-
you are an optimist.  Continue to be so--be happy-celebrate life.

Yours pessimistically
P

Another theme
another dimension
another dream
another direction-

another that you deem
another cogitation
another scheme
another question-

another quest
another interpretation
another guest
another perturbation

another romance
another passion
another distance
another apprehension

the another of the another
another and another attention
the another of the another of the another
another frustration!

Why do you hold back
      in fear
     but act so differently
      when I am not near?

The hours
      you shouldn't count
      forgetting all else
      that's where true meaning is found

Life is at odds
with people
who cling to
their 'oughts'

Repetition is what love doesn't savour
exhausting and vexatious such it does find
she knows and trusts her lover
who will keep her ever in heart and mind

Love might not be the cure
but strength it offers all things to endure

Money is merely a measure
         not about wellbeing, nor pleasure

Is what I say
        a cover-up
        keeping truth at bay?

.....but what's thinking
          merely word--hunting?

'Another day
another time'
so they say
truly I wouldn't know
I'd be around
to meet that outcome
as for me, a dunce
only this would I advance:
' the hour is now
  not a second later
  soon will set the sun
  no more me---ever!'

It's from another land
words have their home elsewhere
I scarcely could understand
haven't before visited there-

their authority they assert without my consent
their stand they aren't afraid to declare
they banish me to some distant end
before my face in indifference they stare.

Why choose that forbidden path
       when there's another route?
       the former is thorny and rough
       look beyond where eager flowers shoot

      in the bright sunshine and all is calm
      untouched by unsightly strife and rant
      nature soothes and invites in tenderest charm
      where love and beauty abounds* at every bend.

Beauty
   in the beholder's eyes
   as of now
   what of futurity?

Don't force friendship

out from me

it will happen

when we are both ready


and you know surely

friendship is a high price to pay

so many have ended in misery

each in disappointment walks away

Only one life-jacket
in a sinking ship
would you give it to your friend
or for yourself keep?

Life
the enjoyment
or
the punishment?

Love
the embracer
or
the accuser?

Life not viewed
as an erratum
but a window
to become

Think of life not in terms
of love or hate
just follow its tides
to the occasion yourself relate.

Be brief

    a long speech

    is a verbal screech

The world will never, never be OK
  as long as everyone insists on their say

This is yours
to write
alone
for yourself-
the anthem
of your life
crystallised
from your tears
purified
by your own heart
carved
from the depths
of your soul

unknown
unheard
by the world

not sung
by the nation
to the raising
of the flag
nor to the sound
of trumpets
horns and brass
nor to the march
of medal-wearing soldiers

every note
forged
from the furnace
of your pain and sorrow

life is yours
yours alone
it belongs
to no nation
nor to the world
you are the keeper
the preserver
the nourisher
the nurturer
the alpha
and omega
the only knower

where you stand
is your self-crafted
sacred ground
that tiny spot
you count
as your right
and legacy
unalienable
verily
to the end of time

what though
the wildest storms
come your way
what though
the ground
were to shake
what though
all were in flames
what though
you were inundated
by sweeping waves
from the tumultuous sea
what though
you are drawing
your last breath
what though
all the past
would be reduced
to dust--

there your head
you'll still hold high
and look upon
every adversity
without fear
or a single sigh

and claim
'I'm my own
and myself
I don't let down
as a hero never
would I count
even as tears
are welling
I'll complete
the composing
of my anthem
that would sound
nowhere
but only
in my own ears

then myself
I'd have overcome

my anthem then
is my life'.

She's arrogant, insensitive, callous
garrulous, recalcitrant, cantankerous
but don't ever call her a '*****'--let her be
happy are those who live in humanity and charity.

Anytime
write I may
but should contemplate not
I would be famous someday.

A PAINTING NAMED ‘AN OLD BICYCLE’
                              
                                 She cycled with me and we chatted so merrily
                                I was eighteen and she was sixteen
                                Down the hill and across the meadow so freely
                               The flowers waved to us--life was beautiful and pristine.

                                'I'll love you forever ' she did say
                                The words echoed through the air
                                But too soon after to a foreign land she sailed away
                                I wrote sadly in my diary--' Love is so cruel and unfair'.

                                Time opens up a misty past
                                Like a river life silently glided along
                                How many first-loves did ever last
                                Despite love’s first ecstatic song?

                                This painting touches my heart so deeply
                                But no tears fill my weary eyes
                                Old age is but compassion and sympathy
                                When the heart is sure and youthful passion dies.

   prompted by a painting posted in Linkedin

Abundance at some stage tends
   to lead to excess, and joy
   diminishes-- only two hands
   we have.  The child tires with too many a toy--

  paucity and poverty* does enrich
  if our lives are by love liberally endowed
  for such the wealthy might eagerly itch
  only to regret and sigh for being left out.

Whatever I am

is what I cause

I belong to no one's realm

my life sets its laws

I would not beseech for more
surfeit is too heavy for me to handle
abundance stultifies me and makes me tremble-
this little is my core and equilibrium
my raison d'etre in my frailty--
my cup runs full in my poverty
words take leave and elude me
what's there to count or measure
as I have more than plenty?
now I am ready to tell my story:

Love, ah so wondrous
so exquisite
so warm and tender
so glorious
so divine
I have no right to demand
beyond more than that meted
I would rather give
in greater measure
than seek
the pleasure
of ownership
for love should always
be larger
than self
and I can't say ever:
' Oh, that's mine'.

This part of me
tested by time
this heart of mine
by your love sanctified
these tears you came by
to wipe, this pain
you visited
by the dead of night
to heal while I was lost
confused, afraid and alone
you hugged me like a child
and with me you wept
though not a single word
we said.

Now
age has taken over
the past has its story related
joys and sorrows of ours we shared
are documented
deep within us
known to none else
secrets that are sacred
that make us what we are
we have reason
our love to re-celebrate

we have become
parts assembled
into the finished work
that faith, patience and endurance
first built amidst the ruins of time
against all the odds
of mindless fate
marooned, forgotten, lost
but we never gave up hope
our parts we brought together
we struggled, we merged
adversities we so courageously fought
and strength from some unknown
in mystery overtook us
the light forsook us not
from the blinding darkness
we woke into the bright new day
what had gone before we forgot
a miracle has been brought
we no longer in isolation live
all my parts belong to you
and yours are mine--
this becomes our unalienable lot.

A PASTORAL ROMANCE

Come, my love, come, join me
in the strawberry field, don't tarry
the fruits are ripe for plucking--ready
just waiting for you and me

the sun is shining
the birds are singing
the roses are dancing
and my heart is pleading

Kin-dom
irksome

What is false?

what is true?

what law, what clause?

is someone misleading me and you?

There's no appointed time
nothing is predesigned
the will to act rests with the self sublime
the resolution of the prepared mind-

in the oasis of infinite imagination
constant beauty, love  and joy I find
in the immediacy of inspiration
all that's life ugly dross I leave behind.

They said to me
  reach out--that's the game
  I replied: I'll look within
  I need no one to know my name-

  what I am and what my future
  will be, that only myself I could frame
  the world shall not judge me
  if I fall,  only myself would I blame

I would rather fail alone
than with others to succeed
if they are out me to own
in their nefarious deed.

Make life
the possible
the defensible
accept not the inevitable.

Appetite
but for what?
to what allied?
why such?

That which
is easily understood
often besmirches
the very nature of truth

Too keen to convince
    is too often symptomatic
    of obsessive self-doubt
    the person could be really sick!

First principle- follow
  so says the philosopher
  what if it were false
  wouldn't I then be the sucker?