He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.

About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, -
In the old times, before he threw away his knees.
Now he will never feel again how slim
Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands;
All of them touch him like some queer disease.

There was an artist silly for his face,
For it was younger than his youth, last year.
Now, he is old; his back will never brace;
He's lost his colour very far from here,
Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,
And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race
And leap of purple spurted from his thigh.

One time he liked a blood-smear down his leg,
After the matches, carried shoulder-high.
It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg,
He thought he'd better join. - He wonders why.
Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts,
That's why; and may be, too, to please his Meg;
Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts
He asked to join. He didn't have to beg;
Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years.
Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt,
And Austria's, did not move him. And no fears
Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts
For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes;
And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears;
Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits.
And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers.

Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal.
Only a solemn man who brought him fruits
Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul.

Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
To-night he noticed how the women's eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why don't they come
And put him into bed? Why don't they come?

Five hundred fifty seven people
Help populate this place
I know most of them by their first name
And I know most every face
We have three stops signs
Two traffic lights and seventeen dead ends
Most folks here are family
The others...real good friends
Our welcome sign's hand painted
Turned it out in fifty nine
Back when the township had expanded
Past the Mason township line
You see, I'm the local sherrif
Been voted in for thirty years
No one really wants to do it
You see, the town is in arrears
We've got one cop, a judge as well
A fire chief and jp
The thing that makes us different
Is that all of them .... is me
I'm the sherrif in a one horse town
That's up the creek without a paddle
You see, I do not own a horse
And I can't afford a saddle
We're mostly all retired
A few run stores and others farm
Since we're mostly all related
No one does each other harm
Our crime rate...nonexistent
You see, a bank's one thing we lack
And if somebody steals stuff
We just make him give it back
Our town has zero growth here
In fact our growth's recessive
Years back our former mayor once said
"We make the Amish look progressive"
We've a diner on our main street
Been there since nineteen forty one
Was opened by May Willicott
Her boy was fighting 'gainst the huns
Next door to her the library
the post office , then city hall
One thing you will not find here
Is a shiny shopping mall
Most folks here don't use money
We just barter and we trade
We closed the bank a few years back
Best decision that we made
Each year we make a purchase
Spend some money, not too much
We buy a book for the town library
We buy some magazines and such
On July 4th we celebrate
Independence Day as planned
We have a picnic in the town square
And folks listen to the band
Two banjos, drums a bass and horn
two guitars and one kazoo
Three singers from the local church
rock the old "red white and blue"
You can't find us on google
There's no road map shows we're here
But I'm the Sherrif of a one horse town
That wayward drivers fear
You could say that we're a speed trap
We're set up to get you twice
We'll catch you speeding coming in
And on your exit...just as nice
We bought the land outside the town
About 500 yards each way
And we dropped the speed to twenty
It's on the sign...as plain as day
It might be hidden by a bush or two
But it's there as sure as not
We take credit cards and cash as well
We make you pay when you get caught
You see I'm Sherrif in a one horse town
We have everything we need
There's no reason for a visit
But if you do ....reduce your speed

All our country's taxpayers are becoming enraged
Bailing out companies which have been mismanaged
Countless millions have been forked out
Dollar amounts which are exceptionally stout
Ever the taxpayer is called upon to cough up
Filling the always depleted company's cup
Giving generously has got to cease pretty soon
Helping them is a cost that's gone well beyond the moon
Injecting our hard earned is too much
Just let them stand on their own crutch
Kick those CEO's into a reality check fashion
Let them not receive anymore of our kind ration
Money has been misspent by our former government
Never ending the out flow it's time for some abatement
Offer not another cent to those ailing companies
Propping them stresses the taxpayer's arteries
Questions must be asked about those per unit costs
Regularly increasing and so high are their imposts
Shores abroad can produce goods for lesser amounts
They run a more efficient book of accounts
Under a burgeoning payout us taxpayers are gripped
Vast savings we'd make if they were nipped
We've been supporting the big end of town for years
X marks the spot where we've been left in arrears
Yonder the companies can take their travails
Zilch is what they'll be receiving from our taxpayer bails

1

A great year and place;
A harsh, discordant, natal scream out-sounding, to touch the mother’s heart
closer than any yet.

I walk’d the shores of my Eastern Sea,
Heard over the waves the little voice,
Saw the divine infant, where she woke, mournfully wailing, amid the roar
of cannon, curses, shouts, crash of falling buildings;
Was not so sick from the blood in the gutters running—nor from
the single corpses, nor those in heaps, nor those borne away in the
tumbrils;
Was not so desperate at the battues of death—was not so shock’d
at the repeated fusillades of the guns.

2

Pale, silent, stern, what could I say to that long-accrued retribution?
Could I wish humanity different?
Could I wish the people made of wood and stone?
Or that there be no justice in destiny or time?

3

O Liberty! O mate for me!
Here too the blaze, the grape-shot and the axe, in reserve, to fetch them out
in case of need;
Here too, though long represt, can never be destroy’d;
Here too could rise at last, murdering and extatic;
Here too demanding full arrears of vengeance.

4

Hence I sign this salute over the sea,
And I do not deny that terrible red birth and baptism,
But remember the little voice that I heard wailing—and wait with perfect trust,
no matter how long;
And from to-day, sad and cogent, I maintain the bequeath’d cause, as for all lands,
And I send these words to Paris with my love,
And I guess some chansonniers there will understand them,
For I guess there is latent music yet in France—floods of it;
O I hear already the bustle of instruments—they will soon be drowning
all that would interrupt them;
O I think the east wind brings a triumphal and free march,
It reaches hither—it swells me to joyful madness,
I will run transpose it in words, to justify it,
I will yet sing a song for you, MA FEMME.

Like sugar from a shaker, snow falls on Saul the baker
delivering steamy biscuits from the shop he calls his home
to a drafty run down mansion where the princess on her pension
can be testy with her tension, hence she's living on her own.

Today he took her order, "One fresh bagel, for a quarter
'cause I haven't seen the likes of one since I left my childhood home".
Well he'd never baked a bagel, but he's not one to finagle
and wanting just to please her, finds a recipe from Rome.

And he's thinking to himself, "I must be way out of mind~
no woman's gonna want a baker's life"
but he carries deep inside his heart, the will to be a friend
hoping someday she will come around and one day be his wife.

So to win her deep affection he packs up his best confection
takes his chances on the back roads, now iced over in the storm.
Finds her waiting in the foyer with her thrifty 5 cent lawyer
complaining 'bout the day old bread and... "this bagel isn't warm!"
So..... he heats it on the fire, 'cause her heart is his desire
but she won't accept the bagel for it's not quite the right form

And he's thinking to himself, "I must be way out of mind
no woman gonna want a baker's life"
but he carries deep inside his heart, the will to be a friend
hoping someday she will come around and one day be his wife.

So he runs back to his bagel board and pounds the dough and rolls a cord
and shapes the perfect circle to a bagel lovers dream,
He boils and then he bakes it and to her mansion then he takes it
piping hot but now she wants it with churned butter from fresh cream!

Well he's starting to get antsy but he knows the farmer, Clancy
whose butter is fresh-churned and known by counties far and wide.
He heads out to the pasture and he buys what he is after
and returns to find, 'tis so unkind, the princess, she had died.

The baker in his stricken state swallows the bagel off the plate
he calls the cops, pulls out the stops and serves the day old bread.
He gives the details more than once of how he ate the evidence
and though he thought his story bought, they arrested him instead.

"Tis a likely story", was the only thing he heard
although they'd bought his baked goods, they could not buy his word.
"The Baker is a Butcher", is what the tabloid said,
"better to take your bagel cold than take it in the head."

But all was not as it appears, she owed the butcher in arrears
and when they went to check her craw they found a hunk of mutton.
It ended all without a trial, the butcher he did reconcile
and posted "Pay the butcher now and do not to be a glutton."

And Saul was thinking to himself, " I must be way out of mind",
no woman's gonna want a baker's life",
but he carried deep inside his heart the will to be a friend
and it turned rather nicely as she willed him in the end.

Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
Yet the strong man must go:
For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,
Though a battle’s to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
The reward of it all.
I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more,
The best and the last!
I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,
And bade me creep past.
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers
The heroes of old,
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life’s arrears
Of pain, darkness and cold.
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
The black minute’s at end,
And the elements’ rage, the fiend-voices that rave,
Shall dwindle, shall blend,
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,
Then a light, then thy breast,
O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!

Day Of The Deadly Living

Nine to five, is what you work,
both kids, think you're a ****.
Wife never wants ***,
not a phone call or even a text.
Same job for ten long years,
bills are in arrears.
At diner, no one talks,
empty is your money box.
Staying together til kids turn eighteen,
bad movie you'd never want put on screen.
What a very depressing life,
dead now, thanks to a knife.
Sometimes life is unforgiving,
day of the deadly living.
Working graveyard shift at a factory,
coming home alone is unsatisfactory.
No wife, no girlfriend or even a *******,
just Rosie, and Tara his blow up doll.
Watching **** on the old laptop,
its been so long, you need a mop.
Couldn't get laid, even in a ***** house,
up your ***, you once stuck a mouse.
No friends, neighbors hate you,
all because they know, you knew.
This poor guy never has no fun,
dead now, thanks to a gun.
His family died on Thanksgiving,
day of the deadly living.
College by day, at night a stripper,
no candy jar, can't be a dipper.
Only sleeps two hours a day,
all night long men stalk their prey.
Started snorting *******,
gave up college, for a room of champagne.
Now she is a coke *****,
opens her legs, more than you open a door.
She had no problem, just an addiction,
a lost girl, with no direction.
Blood gushing from the nose,
dead now, thanks to an overdose.
Three holes I'm regrettably digging,
day of the deadly living.

I rolled my own tobacco tightly, lips pursed through a gormless grin,
As he, the idle Gean Canach, warming up, kisses a lonesome gin,
This dream as told to be his tonic - the bitter slice - so I begin...

Musing over beauty, his admirable hair, warholic an' fitted to wear,
Of Tartan-clad men whose ghosts have chequered stares,
An' Art, Free Speech, Faith, dipped in batter - much to his despair,

Of people, prickened purple as they blow a silent whistle,
To how the sun beams through heather-fields of shared pistols,
An' those scattered morsels of society, left to nothing but the gristle,

To how more questions than answers affect his whispered speech,
Yet he stirs mulling over youth and language receded to their peak,  
'...Come, I'll walk you back to your hiding place – safely out of reach...!'

Back home to talk of MacDiarmid and McFarlan, to agree and feel solemn,
As he explains that a poisoned bee carries but only poisoning pollen,
An' how a love of our country, for its freedom, is all we have in common,
  
He tells of the tears from the Nationalist, nation-less, who lives in arrears,
Of the ink further dried on the receipt of forced union; of some 400 years,
An' that of my friend the leprechaun; ****** on the burnt grass that he shears,

An' now he exclaims - '… Swallow the pound..! Gulp on its hardened flesh...,
...We are as separate -  the reluctant strawberry atop this eton mess...,
The majesty of our homes, as one, forever in a state of undress,

...We shall squander fortunes on entire pleasures dear to empty minds,
The resources of our country fixed to the crown with no benefit in kind,
Computerised Tesco's an' ****** at the BBC is all that we will find...'

It is time to take our leave; he has risen sharply an' yet crumbles into a seat,  
The fires of the red sun burn for independence with stomping feet,
My dream recited, I wander still, and turn to the fools an' scoundrels on the street.

Let us not argue anymore
About who'll walk to the corner store
We've had this row many times before
It's your undertaking to do the chore.

If you wish to eat fish pie for tea
You'll get your feet going in a hurry!
Stalling and prevaricating won't wash with me
Hop to it you dawdling fuddy duddy.

I'm ****** fed up with all these rows
Are you women always such cows?
Always on the who's and how's
You make me feel like a little girl's blouse.

It's a woman's job to do the shopping
Again you've got me really hopping!
We really should be out there bopping
Although my dancing is really shocking.

We've not been out on the town for years
This corner store walker is now filled with jeers
It may be my job to get the groceries at Sears
But our dancing and romancing have been in arrears...

I'm pretty sure you'll have the last word
But here my argument must be heard
You always treat me like a ****
And claim I'm as mad as George the third.

Darling I've treated you as a sow
Why don't we bring an end to our row
Let us hug a little and make up now
We'll enjoy an intimate pow wow.

What's done is done is what they say
Okay, okay I'll earn my pay
I'm on my way!

(C) Paul Butters and Elizabeth Squires 25/04/2014

The traveler swayed from side to side
His bounty slung heavy on his shoulder
His shadow long and eastward strewn
An ambiguous gait and pallor

His toes dragging to a straight-legged stomp
His head heavy in thought and thirst
He uncaps his flask to wet his mouth
Almost falling to the ground face first

His journey is long and his pace is quick
For a while he rests on a stone
He sets down his bag of merchandise
Unaware he’s no longer alone

A rustle in the bushes alerts his attention
He stiffens and draws his blade
An attack from the forest—a black hooded rogue
A battle for his life is waged

He dodges an arrow and avoids a knife
He lunges with his faithful steel
Slicing through air he draws first blood
And snickers with a menacing leer

A powerful kick sends him back
This carnage will end in the mud
A thunderous jump—ribs snap in their cage
Gasping through grimace and blood

His pace was quick but not quick enough
To escape from his earthly fate
For smite rained down like heaven’s hammer
And punished his life of hate

This ambush was long ago forecast
When his soul morphed into black
At first only slightly but then almost nightly
As he engorged his poisoned sack

Madness enveloped his meager soul
And gnarled evil on his face
The trophies he stole in a heap of haste
Stirred dangerous men to give chase

Now he gasped through spit and blood
Finally paying his overdue arrears
Falling from his clasp to the ground in a mess
Were hundreds of severed ears

Bang the drum slowly

There was a rhythm, an echo
Everything, after to day has been leavend
by Iain McGilchrist I heard him speak on Youtube.
----
We can learn forever, I think he agrees. We live to learn.
I've lived a bit longer.

When the teacher is ready the student appears
in arrears
twisted from duty by dereliction

do you understand, stand under, any

one thing word god idea and that's it truth?
I do.
What idea do you stand under?
Seek and ye, meaning me, shall find.
seek a place where you believe that is known
make that place your home,
make that place
make that
effectual, fervent axing fells the forest for the trees

if you please, brief turing-inspired tests of ideas
re-presenting old good ideas
rusted through disuse

for possible recyclings through a level of minecraft.
the wargames are
less
rewarding, post-war on terror.
After age 27, winning alone is not enough,
even the gang, the fam, the team
all the weese we ever was

We aint. I am

needing meaning like air

oh my god, a worship song I heard that
You are the air I breathe

do we, the we of you and me believe air is good?

we do, I knew. Good, 'ts'at mean? Air is meaning?

all one after the morph into alone
I am the way or there is no way

that could be the story but for you,

I-Thou Philosophy, I bow to thee,

en passant on pointe

Ministry of truth Prognosticator Hagee he say
Hell? Yes, he say Hell yest'here is a hell for all

who fail to escape it. I say
One way or another,

you escape one hell,
paying nothing more than proper attention
to detail (did we define duty),

you know how, do it as needed,
friends help but
eventually, something like a father must judge me

good. That is the whole duty. Or else nothing,
eventually right,
live a life that brings honor,
he who troubles his own house

inherits the wind,
you heard he said I came to divide?

Split the flow with a contrail of ice
cutting through the clouds
a jet plane don’t know if
any thing of the sort was ever seen

before my generation.
slice the current into paisleys bubbles reaching away
from the point whence most heat meats least resistance
boiling begins
bubbles emerge and pop.

as old as sin
then
yada, the chorus sings, all the little milk sops sing

yada yada yada and mock the need

to know, you know? More,

after all's been said and done why goes on,

she waves, Cliché crashes to my frontal lobe from lizard brain
Dive in
follow wisdom flowing past
our di er rama drama direct ******* of re ality ify ing

ding.
Did that work? That's maybe
as good as praying, effective

Judge you, I judge me. Can I live with your
following the flow I followed

ob right ob vious not en vious

if the clouds and rain were what water wishes to be,
first some tears must add specialsalt to the sea,
earth salt, from mudmen,
then salt ***** water from
the mud after the flood
when the mammoth
died, (Thank him, for his bones)

then grandpa tells another lie and we laugh
and he weeps

it only hurts, when I laught, he winks,

She pushes and the story takes 'is father's breath,
his first alone, all one, all the air in the world
flowing in to fill the need pressing listing
need need need to breathe
lusting listing and
there,
a new whirl in the world
with all the wind an heir may need
someday, from one bubble to another

in one breath.
One beat of the walking drum,

Does expectation ever stop?
When you are at school
You are expected to get good marks
In all the subjects
Your life is decided
By your ability to memorise things
You are compared with others
Your cousins, your neighbours
Your friends, your classmates
All the time
You, as an individual
Are reduced to a mere shadow

Does expectation ever stop?
When you are at college
You are expected to achieve a high CGPA
Never mind the fact
That not getting arrears
Is practically an achievement
Especially as far as engineering is concerned
And if you happen to fail
People speak in whispers or hushed voices
When referring to you
And when you graduate
But fail to land a placement
You are seen as "that jobless guy"
And your character traits, whether good or bad
Turn out to be immaterial
In the mad race for status

Does expectation ever stop?
When you are a working professional
You are constantly asked about your salary
And it is compared
With that of every frigging relation of yours
Whether close or distant
Not to mention, neighbours
And their families as well

Does expectation ever stop?
When you are single
People constantly bring up marriage
As though it is something
That any decent human being must go through
And when you are married
Your wife also becomes a victim
Of all these crazy expectations
And you, as a couple
Are also compared to other couples

Does expectation ever stop?
When you get divorced
People keep poking and prying
Until they finally manage to extract from you
All the juicy details
But these vultures don't stop at that
They also want to know
When will your next marriage be
Your freedom means absolutely nothing to them

Does expectation ever stop?
When you are overweight
You are constantly advised
To go to the gym
Go for morning or evening walks
And again you are compared
With everyone who is slimmer than you
In the entire neighbourhood

Does expectation ever stop?
Being a good person is not enough
Having a good job is not enough
Earning a decent salary is not enough
Having a good family is not enough
In fact, nothing is ever enough
You practically need to become God
In order to satisfy the expectations
Of our ultra-greedy society
A society that never stops expecting
Until you are dead
Seriously, does expectation ever stop?

at day's length, arc of my spine or
hallucination i twist into desperation. divide.
falling into slow symphonies, movements, i
regain breath just a moment to gasp some regret. to think what happened or happens. willing, nothingness and me, we
touch lips and contract. an ocean if we could tear apart. some space, some time to time fulfilment could write arrears: the pain
was (is) all worth it.

yet, i'm still feeling worthless.

My unrelenting guardian of the years,
to claw the scales of blindness from my eyes
won't spare the consequences of my fears.

Bankrupted soul, emotional arrears
will send me seeking you in anguished cry,
my unrelenting guardian of the years.

Removing self from lover's touch come near,
avoiding agony of being passed by
won't spare the consequences of my fears.

A draught of venom cloaked as cup that cheers
is snatched away before I drink it dry
by unrelenting guardian of the years.

The flaying of my own back, copious tears,
repeated penances all gone awry
won't spare the consequences of my fears.

When called upon for strength, he will appear;
should I refuse the help, he'll let me lie.
My unrelenting guardian of the years
won't spare the consequences of my fears.

Eyeful of tears
Mindful of fears
Are the only arrears
She left

That depressed soul
Created a big hole
By leaving her role
In poetry

That decomposed smile
Melted me for a while
I traveled many a mile
For her

Your impulses are generous, kind and pure-
But impose costs on us we can’t endure.
One point three trillion spent each year, tis said,
to keep our current poor in their own beds.
America has debt related worries
While social engineers break out new Mores.
Recent Grads despair of their careers
and student loans are going in arrears.
Priests, Teachers and the Boy Scouts, rank and file,
Apparently are staffed with pedophiles.
Socialism’s great and life is sunny-
until you run out of other people’s money.

I caughed but not to choke
My blinded eyesight with a log of beauty
Amidst my arrears i would debt for her
An investment to reap of a kind as good as mine too
Past me she went, i bounced at her back
Knowing from her back would drive to the front.
She marketted so well
The smiles were for many but i was first class victim
Nay i drip was small so they brought a Jerrycan
Before i knew i was imnersed to her
The possibility of lottery at hand
I was ready to drop what i heard for least of the unknown
I was a culprit of my theories and my principles sentenced to who cares
Fare tales make life easy and didnt take chance to dream
My red eye to her other company and i became a python to predators
Sour and tragic soon was allergic to my likes deep swollen for traps
How much i had missed never for much am yet to have
Ding **** am now a refugee soul
In a heart whose chains are loose but an addiction

Crossing the street
Blindfolded
Hold my hand
From where you came
To where you are going
Hours demand
A fallen sacrifice
Lightning
Seeks
Your attention
Don't mention it
We begin again
To make amends
And mend our linens
Before we wash them
In public spaces
Shadows remove
Their spectacles
And let's be honest
With ourselves
Or at least
Aspire to be sincere
It appears that
Our mutual feelings
Are in arrears
These days
As leap years burn
Your holy garments
Old shirts are torn
From the holes
Within our firmaments
Young brides must tackle
Insubstantial problems
Like how many  
Triangles are born
From uniting two
Hollow spheres
Yet to solve them
Must forever remain
Closer to impossible

An Inmate who escaped from prison
A reason forming Treason
The Inmate killed and robbed an innocent man
He was sentenced to 30 Years
But now the Inmate has a penalty of arrears
The Inmate escaped from Sing Sing Correctional Prison in Ossining, New York
The Inmate escaped from the prison during the night
Announcement was made but has the entire community in fright
Helicopters searched throughout the night using spotlights
But no trace of the Inmate in sight
Now the Inmate needs a getaway ride in order to hide
There was an idled Greyhound Bus parked in the parking lot
The Inmate felt the Greyhound Bus would be his plot
But I am sure once the Inmate is caught he will received a tightened knot
However, I didn’t tell you, the Inmate was a Former Tractor Trailer Truck Driver so driving a Greyhound Bus would be a piece of cake
Perhaps give or take
So the Inmate started the bus and headed for the thruway
But Greyhound already knew where the bus was since they have a tracking device that is connected to the Company’s Command Communications Center
So the authorities are on alert
The Greyhound bus of course was stolen
The Inmate has no idea that Greyhound Bus 4902 is on record and is all over the airwaves
Helicopters were able to pick up the trace what the Inmate didn’t realize
What a surprise?
So the New York State Patrol was apprehending
Suddenly so abrupt, the Inmate pulled the Greyhound bus off Exit 17 on the New York Thruway
Now you could imagine, the New York Patrol is now going to be mean
As the Greyhound bus moving side too side on the Thruway, the bus had a slight lean
Now the Inmate only has one chance, he can either continue or give up and come clean
So he continued
But moments later, the Inmate was caught
Now Greyhound’s slogan was always, “Go Greyhound and Leave the Driving to us”
But the Inmate may have changed those words to “Go Drive and Leave the Driving to anyone”
A hounding confess
No it was a test
I guess the Inmate would have said it best.

When we speak of parents
We usually refer to the mother
More than the father
Which is quite unfortunate
Because fathers are equally special
Of course, it is the mother
Who has to suffer through labour
And its unspeakable pain
In order to bear the child
However, once the child is born
The role of the father
Becomes equally important
Coming to my own experience
I could not have asked
For a better father
He has been there for me, no matter what
Taking me almost anywhere
Whether it be India
Or the rest of the world
A special mention to the train trips
Since it is only due to my Dad
That the Railways hold such a special place in my heart
Next to the Railways
Pride of place goes to cricket and tennis
With Dad sponsoring my cricket coaching
And playing tennis with me and my sister
I will never forget
The India vs Bangladesh match at Birmingham
Nor all those Wimbledon finals
The events themselves were memorable
But it was Dad's company
That made them all the sweeter
Anyway, enough about sports
Without Dad's support
I would never have made it through school
Especially the transition from CBSE to ICSE
That too in the eighth standard
Moreover, not many fathers
Would've been as patient and understanding
As mine was, during my engineering struggles
Which involved notching up seven arrears
However, the biggest challenge was my professional life
My first job was full of ups and downs
And towards the end
I felt like a fish out of water
Plunging from crisis to crisis
And eventually being forced to resign
And take a break from work
During these difficult times
Dad not only arranged my counselling
But also stood by my side like a rock
Putting up with whatever tantrums I threw
And this continued during my second job
Which turned out to be a nerve-wracking experience
Ultimately ending in a termination
After six months of hard toil
Coming to recent times
During my trainwreck of a marriage
And the subsequent divorce process
Dad and I ended up getting closer than ever
And I hope this only continues
Though of course for happier reasons!
So, as I said earlier
Fathers are equally special as mothers
Full stop

You might be
blogging or podding,
Googling, Yahoo-ing,
Texting, Twittering,
Instagraming, Messaging
Snapchating, WhatsApping,
or good old fashioned
rambling Tumblring -
whatever you're casting
your thumbs will be moving
like proverbial lightning
- proving again and again
the might of your words
over any old persitent swords.
Words of love over words of hate.
That's right - words that reconciliate.
Ignore the can'ts, hear the cans
Hash-tag: 'wordsaremightierthan'.
Facing those fears,
shouting through tears.
Redeeming the years
thought lost in arrears.
Letting them know
you're letting them go
and no longer able
to live with old labels.
Finding the roar
to voice who you are.
Finding the words
to blunt those old swords.
Thumbs at the ready,
hands nice and steady.
You're free men and women,
with a brand new beginning.

"You look well!" are words I dread to hear;
It means I have put on weight;
Probably a result of all the beer,
Of which I drink many a crate!

I know it's affectionate,
Just a compliment and an observation,
And I know I've been a bit decadent:
Stuffed my face like a bear before hibernation!

So at the moment I'm full of self-pity,
No gym for me for the next twenty years,
I have two young kiddies,
Healthy living for me is now in arrears!

So what to do? What's the fix?
Go for a run when they've gone to bed?
Simply too tired and then there's Netflix,
See, I now have the motivation of the walking dead!

But seriously, I need to get fit,
Make the kids a part of a health regime,
Get me off my comfy seat,
And get me back some self-esteem!

Eyeful of tears
Mindful of fears
Are the only arrears
She left

That depressed soul
Created a big hole
By leaving her role
In poetry

That decomposed smile
Melted me for a while
I traveled many a mile
For her

It went on and on
Oh so many years
We were best friends through thick and thin
With romance in arrears
When I was ready
She of course was not
Then I married someone else
She also tied the knot
I was even there for that one
It hurt a lot
I believe you call it sadness

Love sometimes feints the heart
Sometimes you gotta wait
You do the best you can
Try not to make a mistake
But I did and so did she
So we became two not so gay “divorce-eas”
Still talking to each other
Still with a lot to say
Like how about a date?
One turned into two
And then another
Until I could no longer wait
Came the day on blended knee
I asked her to be my mate
"Oh my God, it's been you along,"
That's what she said to me
Followed by, "I have always loved you,"
Which I took as yes to my deeply felt query
We are now married
Since March 25, to be exact
Our romance is permanently intact

Eyeful of tears
Mindful of fears
Are the only arrears
She left

That depressed soul
Created a big hole
By leaving her role
In poetry

That decomposed smile
Melted me for a while
I traveled many a mile
For her