How does the ocean paints so well ?
The inkblots of white
That populates the sky
How does a drop of water
Turns to a mirror

How can a cloud feel?
And some forest leaves, smile as emeralds
And a rose, sings love
And a sunflower, passes as a guide to a star above

How one does not appreciate a star
That is inside his eye but yet still far
How one does not appreciate the moon
That soothes the air not too soon
That caresses the expressions of the ocean
How one does not feel the sun
That is ever-present inside each and everyone

Some little drops of water
Whose home was at sea
To go upon a journey
They once happened to agree
A white cloud was their carriage
Their horse, a playful breeze
And over town and country
They rode along at ease
But the cloud held too many
And began to grow heavy
The little drops of water started to fall
And the cloud looked on with appal
The water fell to their dismay
Was this how they end their day?
~19/3/21

I wish the cloud of sorrow would rain
A little bit faster,
Not much colder
I wish the cloud of sorrow would move Away
A little bit hopeful,
Not much painful!

Rude, infant cloud,
stamping east -
will you carry
something for me?
Bleachy lump, shroud,
linen's careless crease
in bloodless aerie,
trawl a lyric to quay.
White-headed, bowed
beneath high fleece,
insolent taffy, ferry
over salt-rutted sea:
Take them, these words -
before I ask the birds.

Wild ducks and grasses mingle so deeply this morn
I saw them beneath the blackish red sunny dawn
The sun rises behind the clouds, to cover it's face
And cry dip dip dip, now and then - this time anytime
Aroma has blown on the air, the message is floating
Everywhere: Night-birds --street-girls, drunk Romeos go back home
O old beggar mom, don't depart your dome and Starve today,
Let your breast-feeding baby quite in fasting by red eyes,
Pray rain, rain, rain, and raining today day and night
Drops on things anywhere, on wild geese, and on grass

I wish to be a dream.
But I'm the cloud. That
Is hanging overhead
Like you was born to grab
It by your own hand;
It's only - I'm here:
Not dream but dream's seer.

Mortal pink to gray crest -
the fox sun and cloud hedge
advance thin as wax,
strew frost on the yard,
& wrist peach away,
as light leaks, hours ahead.

grey misty haze
why pray for better days?
silver hues
lick moist air
in the beautiful world we share
puddles painted on the floor
revealing your unfocused stare
grey misty haze
tickling noses blue
should be enough
for you