A simple poem is like a caterpillar
On a leaf.

The poem starts growing
Until a butterfly is complete.

Then bright coloured wings take to flight
All God's work for our delight.

The echoing sound of seagulls
Flying above the sea
And leaves upon their branches
Such a wonderful harmony.

Nature's inspiration was it
The reason for his call
From a humble shepherd on the land
To packing out town halls.

Music there within his soul
And words inside his head
Singing was his only goal
His future, good as read.

He sang his songs every day
He was asked to join a choir
Little did he realise
His fame would grow much higher.

He made a massive impact
Wherever he would go
Although he never wrote a song
His voice would steal the show.

He found himself a little band
They became like family
He treated them like brothers
The way that it should be.

Suddenly his fame was over
The result of a tragedy
Sadly he left us
Leaving behind his legacy.

The birds have returned
And peace emerges
In the form of a dove.
Life on the rise again
Children living normal
Lives once more
Playing in fields
Like they did before.
The deadly dark cloud
Replaced by bright sunny skies
Erasing memories of the past
Painting the world with new colours
The rising tide of hope
Washes away the fear of war.

Maybe twilight time
Is a small slice of heaven
Seeping through the cracks

Farewell is a good word
it often returns

in the dark like Charon
floating by in my own
listing imagination

I hold light for his boat
and echo goodbye

like the long nights
follow days, without pain
death is only melancholy

she said you'll have to say it
soon, you know,
to your child and your wife
and, yes, even to yourself.

They trace down your cheeks...
during the loneliest of nights.
They gather between your collar bones...
through your battles and fights.

They brim in your eyes...
assuring you the glimmer of hope.
They drip off your chin...
*like a thread of droplets to help you cope.

They wet your shivering smile...
reminding you of your strength and humility.
They fall on your palms...
appreciating your sacrifices and sincerity.

They seep into your skin...
to fuel the undying love in your heart.
They feed your soul with gratitude
*until the time comes when you shall depart.

===========================

Life is short on earth
like raindrops in the desert
like dew on cactus

~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~