Be my

Be my walk along the beach;

the silver moon

out of reach

in whose light a cloud can flow.

Be my stare

out a window.

Be my comfy cup of coffee,

piece of cake

or choco cookie.

Be my time of inspiration,

relaxation,

meditation.

Be my Sunday morning, lazy,

clear and bright,

soft and hazy.

Be my sunshine when it pours.

You be mine

and I'll be yours.

Forsooth

No one wins; nobody loses.

The highway of life, one gently cruises

in search of a life. Man knows not where

to look - past strife. That road, the air

holds the very thing

that many a crowned king

have wrestled with themselves

to have and hold. One delves

into the deepest recess,

where the mind denies access

searching for this long-lost truth -

Life's the road less traveled, forsooth.

A shared cigarette

A window, and I serenade you.

By the hand, I will kiss you.

We'll drink and watch the world smoke by

as clouds turn stars turn inky sky.

I'll talk of worlds within your eyes.

You'll talk of a life. Time flies.

In harmony; we'll feel so right.

We'll spend that one amazing night.

When dawn breaks as dreams do

I'll kiss you still and you'll coo.

At the break of light and sunlight bright,

we'll see our paths in plain sight.

There'll be, perhaps, another day:

some point in time and space. They say

that paths meant to cross, must.

Our crossing was of love and lust.

Swiss head

There's a clock in every head,

a steady diet, to be fed.

Without which,

it turns a bitch,

pops up and goes "cuckoo".

Wound tight and ticking away

through brightest night and darkest day,

this clock will brood

and throw a mood,

spring up and go "cuckoo".

There come times of silence

with chemicals in balance.

Stays calm, the clock

with nary a knock

until it pops and goes "cuckoo".

Starless night

A bird of white

did alight

under a starless night

in search of food.

None, so rude,

did disturb this sight.

For it was one

among a run

of many on that night

when stars did hide;

did dark collide

with peace and joy's delight.

Far from view,

Horizon knew

the kiss of Sky and Sea.

And well in sight -

one left, one right -

the footprints came to be

of wanderers;

of wonderers,

who came to hear and see

the sight so rare;

the mark so fair:

the footprints of the sea.

The tide then rose

to kiss the toes

of Sky who deigned to glance

at all of those,

that night, who chose

to go and take a chance.

Thoughts did flow

and words did glow

in fair poetic dance.

The endless sea

gave energy

to City's mad romance.

1

There was a time I walked on water's face;
I since have given up omnipotence.
I've watched the sky and sea in dear embrace
and watched as Atlas placed: the timeless fence.

Hearts still draw like lonely ghosts out there:
the place where time extends beyond the morn.
They come to meet and in that meeting, share
a moment, true and pure. The smiles adorn
a glow that brings the sunshine out in rain:
as if to sanction love with warmth and light.
A moment stolen from their daily strain;
a moment when their fancies can take flight.
'tis in that special time that I can see
the happiness that, can, the human heart.
And not all pain and sorrow needs to be -
these moments too, of life, become a part.

Like once before, emerging from a box
perhaps old Hope will Atlas from his place;
perhaps I'll find a box that's blue and rocks;
perhaps one day I'll walk on water's face.

Unto another field

With a carpet sky and raindrop darkness looming over ground,

put a bit of grass in the clouds and kick a ball around.

If sunshine beams are veiled and watered to a withering ghost,

place two bolts of lightning, square, and make a goal post.

When hazy days enhance the ways in which to be lazy,

go run wildly through the skies; kick up a storm, crazy.

 - Inspired by a line from "Postcards from Bardoli", written by Ramu Ramanathan

A word on a bird

There was a little bird who coo'd a little coo.
She looked at  a thing and said, I can do this too.
Her motives were pure,
her footing was sure.
And so, she began, without much a do.

Her passion and her love became her drive;
her choice was never settle, always strive.
With talent and with flair,
over bump and scare
her path became the form that she did contrive.

A tin-man and a lion; a hatter and a hare:
Friends came her way for whom she came to care.
The yellow brick road,
together, they strode,
forming an ensemble rather rare.

The little bird grew to be quite unique.
Along with her mind, grew her mystique.
And so the ensemble
did trudge and rumble,
all the while, the bird guiding their clique.

Time marches on with a sure and steady pace.
The bird found herself in many a race.
And she won them all;
stood proud and tall;
vanquishing every challenge she would face.

This isn't quite where the story ends
for the road is long as it bumps and bends.
Consider it good luck
if in your life amuck
you get to meet this bird and perhaps become friends.

In the darkest night...

Look at the sky.

Though it may cry,

through the cloud,

screaming loud,

there is a star,

with all her power,

that's burning bright.

Though hidden from sight

the darkest night

becomes light

and easier to bear

just knowing that it's there.

Mightier

Would you quote Shakespeare when in a fight?

Would you use Beckett's words to prove you're right?

Is what you say important in a fit of seething rage?

Can Byron's colours paint on your personal angry page?

Are words from Wordsworth worthy of your ego?

'sit better to throw Wilde than to just wildly throw?

Words, too, in fact can take a form quite terse.

How bloody would war be if we use Lennon's verse?

Perhaps what may work is to sometimes use silence -

The shrug of Chaplin's shoulders always held some poignance -

For the power of a word and just what it can do

perhaps weighed heavy on good ol' Moses too.