Dishes served full are well laid on the table
prawns are glittering adornments
though only yesterday
their tentacles were tasting the river
not knowing they would be in another water
in the river of saliva
grinded and pulped for a tasty moksha.

The rain falls unabated from last night.

Who'll go out to feed?, asks a voice.

Does never being hungry feel the same stress
as being hungry most of the time?

The answer is in the clouded eyes
watching the eyes
joyful for one more chance.

ten thousand tears
fall to your memory
enough to water
a grove of magnolia trees

ten thousand joys
remembered there
give light and sun
to the soul, stripped bare

and as those trees
grow with light and water
we sit and revisit sorrow and joys
and contemplate, the art of bee's
to bring colour to the palest day
before leading us home
to hive and life, leaving behind
toys and strife....before we succumb
before we falter...to the melancholy
of those that remain

we went, that day
to your house,
with food and drink
gifts wrapped in bright paper
it was a day of celebration
all day we would remind you
that fifty was just a number

we spent, that day
gathered together on
couches and armchairs
watching the world change
as planes became weapons
and buildings became like trees
falling in a forest, peoplee became
ghost and ether on the winds

we wept, that day
for those lost
on the other side
of the world
we wept, that day
for those left behind
we wept, we weep still
when we think of the atrocities
that mankind can do in the name of gods

we left, that day
with food uneaten
presents still wrapped
heartsore and sorry
images of horror imprinted
praying for succour

we send our thoughts
out each year to those
who have suffered
to those whose family
names are remembered
with bell chimes and prayers

it was,  meant to be such a wonderful day
when we went that day to celebrate your fifty years

little birds
all yellow mouths
and hunger

chirp with needful bellies
keeping the olds
in frantic motion
to  silence the calamitous cries

you are the show of the day
for the half grown, well fed instinct
that sits on the other side of the window ledge
eyes wide, ears forward, poised to leap
he watches trembling, with adrenaline
filled need to hunt, years of
domestication be ******
he is tiger, you are prey

at least till the door to the
refrigerator opens.....

into the breach i go
no heavy footed
but on tippity toe

into the dark night i sail
in a boat shaped like a whale

into the forest  i run
with a smile and bread crumbs

the highest mountian
i will climb, only to
roll pell meel down the other side

i will walk on clouds, swim each
and every sea...i will be as magnificent
as only i can be...

i will dive with polar bears
and fly with albatross
will run with  giraffe
and stand with rhinoceros

and when i am done with this day's play
home to you i will come,
with clothes, *****, ripped and frayed...
and you will sigh and grump and say...

"little man, what did you get up to, today?"

cold weather outside
sad thoughts within

rains cleanses the windows
tears cleanse the hearts

rain gives water for growth
tears acknowledge slow death

clouds blanket the sky
my other gives me a blanket
both make the day warmer

the sun breaks through cloud
that heavenly beam of light
reminds me of my mothers faith
for her, everything will be alright

me, I gather my blanket closer
and cry into his broad shoulders