Like fresh ice-cream
a newly baked cake
the ripple of a stream
the stillness of a lake

Is innocence untouched
Purity unsmutched
'Fore world makes inroads
'N virtuosity erodes

Now life's been hurdled
'n the cake's gone stale
the ice cream's curdled
and from the lake, a wail

Let's take a tour of the Zodiac signs,
On each month, we'll scribe two lines

Aries Sun has zest and verve
A quarrel with him takes a nerve

Taurus Sun's down to earth
to change his mind's like giving birth

(Original:
Gemini Sun's social and fickle
Rely on him and you're in a pickle)

Gemini Sun's social and flexible
Friendly, affable, intelligence incredible

Cancer Sun's moody, insecure
Sensitive to a fault 'n slightly obscure

Leo Sun's loyal, a good worker,
Idealist, noble, rarely a shirker

Virgo Sun's responsible and practical,
exacting, self-critical, not always tactical

Libra Sun wants peace at any price,
refined, sociable, and really, very nice

Scorpio Sun, now there's a challenge,
Intense, willful, he'll always manage

Sagittarius Sun's cheerful and friendly,
though mind their anger, can be deadly

Capricorn Sun's hard-working, societal,
Mostly reliable though obstinately practical

Aquarius Sun goes off beaten track,
Idealistic, social, they'll usually have your back.

Pisces Sun's deep, if somewhat lymphatic,
dreamy idealist and slightly erratic

And herein ends our brief excursion
Hope you enjoyed are astral version

is it normal to feel fright
every time i take a bite
knowing that you're in the room
scanning me as camera zoom
focused on my every action
driving me to distraction

i take a step and i'm aware
of your so very intrusive stare
i say a word and feel uneasy
often faint and slightly queasy
what was it in your history
that gave cause to this mystery?

i pity you, it cannot be easy,
always on watch, never breezy,
your scorpio moon, secretive, intense
thinking everyone's, to you, against,
to be on guard your sole defence
a pressure-cooker, simmering, incens'd

that i am the brunt of your emotion
coupled with your strange devotion
is my lot in this world i suppose
and, I must, take it on the nose,
bow my head to superior wisdom
or else, take flight? flee the system?

as playwriter put in the mouth of the Dane,
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
If 'tis nobler suffering fortune's arrow 'n chain,
Or to end them. Abscond. To quit the session?
To take flight, to act —aye, there's the pain:
For in that change i know not if i'll freshen

or as yacht flotilla set in sea tub
be drowned by circumstance as by depression
today i know i bare your snub
but what if i'm fated to public aggression
so that, when i'm free, as drinker from pub
i'll never master my self-expression

is the better part of valour discretion
or is caution best expressed by it's lack?
will i flounder in my own self-egression
or will my soul make final it's comeback?
and what of the children? part of concession?
i cannot on them turn my back...

so it's settled then, i must sail on,
be resigned to path of no return
and when summer nights have all but gone
allow myself luxurious yearn
of what might have been in life bygone
had i struck out in its sojourn

glistening with mountain dew
tiptoeing in ballet shoe
from deepest black to darkest blue
she kisses sky to start anew

and from the silence, the sweetest tune,
the music of the sun and moon,
in harmony with daybreak's croon,
ripples softly to nature's boon

as Dawn spreads open her sweet wide wings
of rainbow colour and silver'd strings
and with the birds begins to sing
of ancient One, the King of kings

[Who sits on high beyond the all
Who places high beneath the small
Who sees all life, from Spring to Fall,
Who sees the little and the tall]

And as she tells her tale of old,
the sun he spins his web of gold
o'er high mountains and valley folds
delighting lacewings and marigolds

as moonlight sphere bows with grace
allowing sun to take his place
allowing sun to start his race
with redshot eyes and blushing face

and in the light of new born day
sweet Dawn in silence fades away
just like the wave that ebbs in bay
as girl and boy come out to play

head buried deep
she sits and weeps

for soul bereft
for all have left

no twitter of bird,
no song is heard,

her streets devoid
of life destroyed

no children's laughter
on morn thereafter

the enemy's plunder
with fire and thunder

extinguished all
from big to small

no lover's call
no baby's crawl

no longer teens
stroll her greens

groom and bride
starved and died

her sages skilled
slain 'n killed

the pure and chaste
lie in waste

young and old
lie still and cold

her elders' gate
lies desolate

for thousand years
she weeped her tears

yearned that Time
return her prime

her constant yearn
her child's return

until one day
one light ray

a hint of dawn
as shyest fawn

began to shimmer
the smallest glimmer

it waxed and grew
as if anew

a people reborn
though tired 'n torn

from many-a-moon
scattered and strewn

from past tragic
as if by magic

from east and west
returned to nest

as sun arose
from deep repose

and as a lion
with muscle of iron

awoke from slumber
as beyond number

voices of joy
of girl and boy

played in her street
with hearts abeat

farms with lanes
fields and plains

full again
of wine 'n grain

as it would seem
a nation's dream

had come alive
to grow and thrive

yet true spirit
virtue 'n merit

life-force and soul
her aim and goal

her vision divine
her G-d's recline

the blood of her veins
in saints' remains

appeared still locked
as scorners mocked

as though the sun
were playing a pun

as though its light
though white and bright

was as the dusk
a mere husk

a shell to fruit
that lay still mute

that yet to grow
from grey shadow

had yet to rise
from dark disguise

thus she lies
in humble guise

her sore eyes
scan the skies

now more awake
as chains off-shake

she still awaits
her lover's gait

she says, I know
it's not long to go

I sense he's near
he'll soon appear

my love, my dear,
will soon be here

"** ** **", said the gruff he-goat,
nodding his beard and shaking his coat,
as he playfully kicked at his little kids,
his admiring doe batting her lids

"look at me", cried the peacock in glee,
as he fanned his feathers for all to see,
gave a little run to the hen opposite
with a shake of his tail, his train composite

"I am the greatest", boasted the ape,
pounding his chest 'neath woodland cape,
informing the missus who was the boss,
who's the alpha, who not to cross.

is it woman alone of all creation
who rules her roost with subjugation
that all men quiver at the turn of her nose
at her meandering moods, her highs, her lows?

more than man, she panders to fashion,
to drive her mate to love and to passion,
why are the rules here in reverse
different from the rest of the universe?

the brown female of blackbird genus
is more than happy with mate's dominus,
the moorhen brown of drab feather 'n plume
is quite content to sit in the gloom

why then does the human lady of the house
turn bumbershoot inside out
in all ways proclaim charge of her spouse
with guile or smile or rant or pout?