Sunday, September 29, 2013

The seasons keep on changing

Each year we see the earth affirm her strength
By cleaning house, and setting things to rights;
The harvest in, she smiles and rests at length,
And welcomes shorter days and longer nights.
Fleet spring and verdant summer have their days,
Resplendent days, when life laughs loud to see
Unfettered fertile vistas, bright displays
Of new growth in an infinite degree.
Some think that autumn heralds a decline,
A dissolution, in the dearth of growth;
In fact, she stands for something pure and fine,
Renewal, guaranteed by nature's oath.
Though summer always yields to winter's claim,
The flame of life keeps burning just the same.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

False impression

I fancied her, and thought that she was sweet;
But soon, I learned I fancied her too well.
I thought her beauty made my life complete,
But looks can hide an easy road to hell.
I'd made my love a Hollywood romance,
A story doomed by life, and quite unfair.
In honesty, it never had a chance;
In truth, she was no goddess past compare.
In time, all my devotion turned to dust;
"It's better now, than later on," I said.
The happy ending, now no more discussed,
My ardent dreams of bliss woke up, and fled.
My plans for life with her all came to naught,
Though she once churned my every waking thought.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

I thought I'd found what it was meant to be

I thought I'd found what it was meant to be,
(I'd joined the foolish treasure hunt anew).
I saw it as a sweet complicity,
A refuge for two souls, forever true.
The truth, borne in upon me much too soon,
Revealed that I would never reach my goal.
My gallant ship was breached, and left in ruin,
A wreck, athwart an unsuspected shoal.
I'd studied hard, but failed to pass the test,
And though I thought I knew Love's arcane ways,
I found that my departure would be best,
To guard the harvest of my precious days.
Reality soon wins, though we may try
Our best; awake, the sweetest dreams can die.

Friday, September 20, 2013

Just like heaven

The problem with Utopia? It's such a bloody bore;
A perfect place and people, artificial to the core,
Utopia means nowhere; it was coined from ancient Greek;
It paints a rosy picture of a world no one should seek.

Why rant about Utopia? The place can never change;
It celebrates a static life no one can rearrange.
Imagine: no excitement, nothing novel, always tame,
With each new day like all the rest, not new, but just the same.

The sun is always shining, the good weather never stops,
It only rains when you're asleep, to irrigate the crops;
Every face is smiling, you don't dare to wear a frown,
All married folks are faithful, no one ever plays around.

All the questions have been answered, and every mountain scaled;
The goals of life are in your hand, all problems long derailed,
In Utopia, life is perfect in every single way;
All uncertainty's been banished, and boredom rules the day.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

I learnt to treasure time, yet mourn its frantic pace

I learnt to treasure time, yet mourn its frantic pace,
The years and decades flown without a trace.
Time waxes, wanes and swells and shrinks our interlude;
We grasp at time and wonder, shorn of certitude.

But as time runs its fluid course, I have to ask
What can it mean, why weight us with this cryptic task?

We search for confirmations, truths we can defend,
As meretricious time eludes us at the end.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

That special person

Was she the special person meant for me,
The love they write of in a thousand songs,
The steadfast friend who laughs or weeps, as we
Face challenges, make choices, right or wrong?
At school, I saw her walking in the hall,
And once, we spoke when passing on the stair,
And often, in my dreams, I heard her call
My name, a whisper on the summer air.
I should have told her where my heart was set;
Too shy to speak, I let her walk away,
And watched her as she left, with sharp regret,
Too late to voice the words that I should say.
That memory remains, that scene appears
As vivid now, as then, down through the years.

Sunday, September 8, 2013


Living alone can be a joy,
Provide a home for happiness,
With leave to grow and to employ
The range of talents you possess;

To mull the possibilities
Of forming friendships, of romance;
To use all your abilities
And make the most of every chance.

Solitude: safe harbor and peace,
A welcome place where you may change
The rules and see your luck increase,
With limits only you arrange.

The single life can be the root,
A golden opportunity,
The basis for a firm pursuit,
Of life lived in tranquility.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

The no-nonsense taste of hot black coffee

The no-nonsense bite of hot black coffee,
Like magic, banishes the stuff of sleep,
A cobwebbed word, a garbled phrase or two,
Fragments of dreams, now only half-recalled.

The morning's stillness soothes, providing refuge,
A safe haven to cherish and protect,
And I celebrate enfolding silence,
A companion of my meditations.

Soft rays of early sun shoo dawn away;
Their strength increasing, they weaken
The somber shadows, chase the sullen ghosts,
Reject the dark, replacing it with light.

Bolder brushstrokes from the sun's varied palette
Now add subtler textures to the outline
Of the room; I sip more coffee and muse
About the words I need to write my poem.

Pinwheeling particles of poetry,
Sorted from the random bits and pieces
Of an improvisational display,
Start coalescing into narrative.

Demurely, morning tiptoes quietly,
For fear she might distract me from the hoard
Of words and images I choose among,
But pleased about the work that lies ahead.