softer than the ocean sand
caressed by moonlight tender
the skin of my beloved
radiant with cherub's splendor

deeper than woodland pools
bluer than the skies
the wellsprings of my jewel's
cerulean, emerald eyes.

untouched as yon ****** soil
innocent as newborn calf
Like buttered cream, wine and oil,
His comments and epitaphs

As a thousand rainbows bright
'Midst gloom cloud 'n dark 'n sorrow
Like electric flash of whiter light
that heralds the new morrow

Is the laughter of my boy
that washes away my tears
the fountain of my love and joy
my son of nine years.

i see a world through my eyes
i hear it through my ears
is that the world you see too
or d'you have different fears?

why do i never stop to think
how others truly feel
why does our ego us hoodwink
to believe just our world is real

i like it when i hear my name
i can give others that pleasure too
that little buzz akin to fame
'coz you're important to you

if i open a door to others' feelings
how much richer my world might be
why am i frightened from revealing
my world's not a sole reality

Each person's a complete universe
with light 'n shade, blessing 'n curse,
his world might be entirely diverse
to the ambience in which i immerse

if seven colours make a rainbow
what iridescence, what beautiful glow
must myriad realities together show,
G-d's divine Glory, above 'n below.

golden chariot, by four steeds drawn
riding till the eve from dawn
incandescence, iridescence,
fattening aurum ears of corn

celestial orb, perpetual wonder
servant to her Glorious Maker
rolls in vacant space o' yonder
Obeisant to a Hidden Creator

Perfect globe, fiery love
Healing as the wings of dove
Embracing from the heavens above
A hand enveloped in velvet glove.

With what magic then has moon of white,
Lifeless, cold, Earth's satellite,
Dare presume block sun's light,
In passing over, height for height.

Two spheres they be in heaven far
Natural opposites, heat 'n algor,
One white and cold as ice 'n snow
One yellow golden warming glow

Yet Omnipotent deemed heaven's star
Be same proportion, on a par
To ball of stone, a rock bizarre,
That it change noon to witching-hour.

We, sole witness of this phenomenon,
Must draw from Father some sort lesson
At least, to pause, to stop and wonder
At His creation that knows no blunder.

they say you marry your mother
i don't know whether that's true
but every time i hear another
scolding from my shrew
it's mother's image my brain conjures
shaking her finger anew
i hear her voice through wife's responders
A feeling of déjà vu.

Dawn is knocking at the door
Peeping through the curtain
I turn, pretend again to snore
But sleep's gone for a Burton

Heavy-eyed I eye the clock
Squint and try to focus
It's not yet gone five o' clock
I lie back feeling hopeless.

How many hours of beauty-sleep
Brain attempts to calculate
Maybe I'll try counting sheep
Running wild, jumping gate.

Must have snoozed off, pretty sure,
I eye the clock again,
Long hands pointing to the four
Short hand to the ten!

Can't be true,
beggar's belief!
I look anew,
sigh with relief,

'Twas the second hand
Now on eleven
And the time?
Twenty past seven.

Late night
little rest
Midday bite
caffeine blest

Little wonder
Creativity
torn asunder
unto passivity.