Good deeds don’t go by unnoticed,
just like a daisy,
rose,
or lotus.

I try hard to treat people with kindness,
but seldom rewarded respect or politeness.

Only the sane come back to their senses,
with an act of kindness,
your self-esteem enhances.

I’m never reluctant to lend a hand,
those in need I do understand.

People are born with tempting desires,
Love and compassion,
is what you require.

For all my sins I have remorse,
may God forgive my wicked thoughts.

If I'm to blame for what was done,
in God I trust and not someone.

I thank the lord for all his gifts,
my time on earth had passed so swift.

Poetry is a verbal engagement, that tells a story in a rhythmic arrangement.

Poetry is a form of linguistical art,
that evokes your sentiments,
right from the start.

The beauty of a poem lies in its meanings,
and the true emotions that the poet is feeling.

Some poems when read may sound to you dull,
but to many others,
they do ring a bell.

Our tastes may differ,
from one to another,
but a good solid poem,
can bring us together.

For every poet has a different style,
the clever one,
will stand out from a mile.

I have never given love much thought,
it was the pleasure that I always sought.
Moments I spent in entwining arms,
attractive odour,
and cunning charms.

Tempting warm lips,
and sweet kisses,
long soft moans,
and ***** wishes.
Shivers of pleasure that made me high,
a pounding heart,
and breathless sigh.

Then I saw a sight I had never seen,
an earthly angel,
or a heavenly being.
A saintly visage bright and demure,
with a slim figure,
but fully mature.

I stood bewildered in total suspension,
but my mind was focused with rapt attention.
As if the angel had shot an arrow, it pierced my heart,
and reached my marrow.

I wished I was in lovers hall, where lovers dwell,
and the maidens call.
From the fountain of love,
they all would drink,
where the doves are white,
and roses are pink.

In moments of mirth I closed my eyes,
as my heart had roamed the fleecy skies.
I felt a bliss from above descend, when to my heart,
a message she sent.

My heart for her began to sing,
as she made me feel I am the king.
For every king there is a throne, my earthly angel will be my own. With a steady hand and a glass of wine,
I salute all lovers, that love have defined.

I sit alone,
and meditate.
I think of kin,
I dare to hate.
I think of things,
that I have done.
I think of people,
we live among.


I think of deeds,
that shame my soul.
I think of sins,
I can’t control.
But as I embrace,
my inner peace,
my true emotions,
begin to feast.


To God I pray,
with all regret,
and hope my sins,
I can forget.
In time of need,
He is my guide.
He is indeed,
the righteous side.

I stare ahead at the wavy blue,
As I recall the lovely sue.
Her love is still well hooked within,
I am not so sure where to begin.
There was a time my heart was free,
A hummingbird on a willow tree.
But what fate had in store for me,
Changed my life a great degree.


I never thought I would fall in love,
With a pretty rose, a tender dove.
She grasped my heart with a swifty swing,
It hit me hard, not just a sting.
I lost my mind and self control,
But knew I’m here to play a role.
For what I learned along the way,
Love is a game no one can play.

My sweet canary just loves to sing,
with his yellow beak and golden wing.
His lovely songs will make you shake,
all other tunes will sound a fake.
But as I sit and think alone,
NoI feel my heart is made of stone.
My precious bird could be my sin,
I keep his soul well locked within.
For every soul is born so free,
I doubt your mind will disagree.

No words shall please my soul,
if not from deep within.
In life we laugh and weep,
as moods with time do spin.
Even a poet does need a flare,
to devise his ringy rhymes.
To sculpt a verse from solid words,
is a masters work, sublime.

When fine words mingle and mix,
with sweet lovely emotions,
a lady’s heart will surely yield,
without showing a notion.
Delightful words do cast a spell,
on people where they stand.
Being a charmer may pay your rent,
to the lady of the land.

No torrent is strong or tough,
to sweep a poets will.
And no drought is harsh enough,
to dry a poets well.
Eloquent words,
soft and smooth,
too far from being absurd.
When spoken loud,
they steal the show,
on every stage and stand.