The music of late autumn
is solemn, subdued and melancholic drifting
through silent trees and falling leaves
birds take to wings and cease their singing even before evening

while the moon and stars
seem weary and are trembling
how many hearts tonight are lonely and forlorn
in their secret yearning?

I was the song you didn't sing
I was the heart you didn't know
I was the poem you never read
I was the love you let go.

I was the dream that you crushed
I was the voice you chose not to hear
I was the promise you frowned upon
I was the one you held to be least dear.

Serious verses often I write
but those I love most
are homely, gentle and light

of mothers feeding
their kids
of them each other kissing

of fathers toiling
in the family farm
bringing home the produce in the evening

of the blue sky shining
on every green field and garden
of flowers in blooming

of birds singing
on every bough
in the glorious morning

of the moon beaming
and the stars
glittering

of young lovers vowing
to be faithful and true
in their lives' sojourning

of the old reminiscing
their youth's most splendid moments
with hearts content in understanding

of laughter vibrating
when  friends of old come together
good cheer sharing

As long as life around me is still encircling
my verses and songs shall still be resounding
life is to be embraced--that's the joy of living.

Open your heart to me
  like the green meadow
  waiting for the kiss of the sun
  let our love glow

  in every sweet ardour
  come to me ere the sunset
  ere the roses go to sleep
  my vow I'll forever keep--how could I forget?

'Quit!'-- the most powerful word
I know
one that
I'll never let go-

sounds grandiosely onomatopoeic
( a word that never fails to stick)
it shakes
the existing foundation
and order of things
it compels
listening and reckoning-

the establishment
is held aghast and asks:
'Is this a sting
to everything
we hold sacred and dear?'
( why should the present masters fear
  if of their own stand they stand sure?)

'Quit!'
a word
so final
affirmative
decisive
prophetic
as though
the bulwarks of the old
must give way to the new
(and what's that 'new' happening?--
those who are threatened are asking)

' Quit!'
how glorious the word!
audacious
pugnacious
cantankerous
unrelenting
uncompromising
non-conforming
unflinching
unyielding
irreverent
intransigent
belligerent
most triumphant !

unashamed
contemptuous
of the current state of being
virtuous
as it would not prostrate
before what it deems to demean
human morality or decency
it would not cow
to suppression or tyranny--
' Quit! if you want to be free!'

How often
in my youthful days
' Quit!' swamped my mind
before those who controlled and bullied me
as I was poor and weak
with no recourse
to any safety nor sanctuary-
how they took delight to see
me at their mercy--
my misery made them happy

' My time shall come'
myself I did promise
through sweat and tears
I laboured waiting for the dawn
when I would shake off the yoke
of my unhappy years-

' Patience, patience, patience'
to myself a thousand times I said
'  The time has not come,  you must still wait
in more patience, yet more, more and more' --even in the dead
of night the word returns to haunt
  weeks followed days, months followed weeks
years followed months, decades followed years
  my struggle took three decades-
the price of freedom didn't come cheap

then came the crowning moment
and before the inquisitors I threw my gauntlet
looked into their fearful and perplexed eyes
and exclaimed : ' I QUIT!'
(the most senior of them fell from his seat!).

Quitters of the world
unite!
you have nothing to lose
but your chains!

What is-
is it true?
what is not-
is it false?

To be--
is it better
than not to be?

Isn't not to be
wiser
than to be?

Is it better
to know
or not to know?

Who is poor-
the rich unhappy?
isn't he who is poor, rich?  being happy.

What is-
is it love?
what is not, is it not love?

What is-
is it life?
what is not, is it not life?

We step precariously as it were
on the most slippery floor
of verbiage--what do we really know?

There are tears
but of a different kind
not born of one's own suffering
but that which affects our heart and mind--

that ubiquitous sorrow with which so many are afflicted
helpless in suffering, deprivation, neglect, loneliness, fear and pain
(who dares stand up and proclaim:? This is the age of  peace and plenty!'
it's the same political and business people's rhetoric---over and over again.

There's little hope or respite
wars darken the sky and soldiers fall
in daily battlefields
while leaders make their inhuman and infamous call

'To arms, to the glory of our nation
to the defence of our faith and ideology'
while on the roadside the innocent--young and old-
perish in cold and hunger-- who will shed the tears of our century?