A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.
One after another they arrive
Steeping my eyes in the world
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.
My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?
Here I sit at work
watching snow tumbling down
thinking about home
My father and my mother sat me down one day
to tell me how wonderful that I was growing O.K.
The years passes by as I got to be a teenager
with high hopes of becoming the first young manager
Life turns out a manager job is not for me
so I kept things to a minimum working hard you see
My family had taught me with all do respect
the life we lead is the image of our age in an aspect
Like queens and kings we bow our head
to the people who is wiser in age even when dead
Life as our guide the time we have aged
is what we leave behind that we are gaged
In prospective we are the stars and we are the earth
because we age and leave behind a new birth
To those that seek such blessing of heart
remember this age is respect for living from the start
Do you remember your father, mother, and teachers
they are the ones cheering you on, sitting on those bleachers
Trees and plants,
In silence like a dumb,
Winds and rain,
Teaching them talking!
Today was the day of judgment,
All children were excited and pleased,
But when the result was declared,
Tutor called student; one by one in the office,
And appreciated each of them,
Who got good marks in the tests.
But suddenly, a cried break out amusement‘,
Why did a teacher, beat up a student so badly?
Who wrote in the exam,
The sun was rising in the river,
Fishes were jumping over the clouds,
And climbing up on the palm trees.
Head teacher came out and asked the boy,
Where did you read all this?
When my dad goes fishing, he told.
I always think, why fishes have white colour,
I understand when we were acrossing the waves,
Fishes must eat coconut.
A teacher not beaten up a student only,
Also he failed because of not following his lesson,
That was from a book,
Dad, I wasn’t wrong, a child was sobbing,
If book isn’t lying,
I am also not lying.
I do not know?
all of them sustain,
each a part of the teacher tree.
speaking different parables,
humming different songs,
each falling its own way in the end.
tell me, tell me teacher tree,
why they have to die?
some too soon to truly live,
struggling and suffering.
the sun will scorch,
the winds will dry,
each one of your sacred leaves.
the teacher tree won't answer,
and all the leaves will try
to tell you why they matter.
every living one does matter,
and was made so all could exist.
the teacher tree stays silent,
but answers every one,
and every fallen leaf
is one with him,
forever and forever.