the moon is a sickle
the sky a pastel palette
i slowly awake as dawn
gives a yawn
and a sleepy greeting

pillow soft, and warm
fragments of a dream
flicker in my mind
as I try to cling on to their meaning,

i can hear a distant sound
strangely familiar, a
subtle disturbance
becoming ever more present,
pressING
STRESSing
alarm! clock! rrrrringing

dr     a     g         g      i       ng
me out of the dream i was living in

and i am once again
born
unto
this new day

When you are in love
Daybreak brings you fairy dust
Glittering on fields of four-leaf clover.

When you are in love
Crows take music lessons
And sing to you Brahms Lullabies

When you are in love
The clock turns into Jello
And time loses all meaning when together

When you are in love
The Moon becomes your closest friend
And you can tell her all your secrets.

When you are in love
The world becomes a magic place
And you’re the Head Magician.
                 ljm

Broken Biro on the street
(That’s an English ball point pen.)
Crushed by cars’ uncaring wheels
It’s ink a useless smear.

What words could that ink
Have produced on sheets
Of clean white paper
Guided by a poet’s hand.

Visions of fantastic lands
That beckon with their beauty.
Invitations to explore
Another way of thinking.

Broken Biro on the street
Was it thrown out on purpose-
Obsoleted by a phone
That puts its words into the clouds.
             ljm

Words sliced
Diced and cubed
In a skewer
Some went into the stew
Chomp them away
Serve them chilled
Or slightly spiced
Many like theirs
Just on the rocks
Some like them sweet
Bitter there is no choice
To swallow and yet not wallow
Never once, forget twice
Words have a flavour of their own
How do you like yours
Grilled with the right spice
Maybe plain
Sans any dressing
Yeah, some like it minced
Each to their own
Words on the platter
Served just right
I like it raw uncut
Organic, fresh from the farm
Sometimes
Well done on both the sides
One can wish as one wants
Priceless the words
As ordered and served fine