I’ve seen no flowers feigning a false grin,
Nor birds that with a cheerless face e’er croon,
Nor trees that fret in vain loss of lush green,
Dolphins depressed, nor weary waning moon,
Reindeers devoid of all their self esteem,
Polar bears that cannot take it easy,
Wild cats worried on a fuzzy vague whim,
Laid-back they live easy as waves in sea,
In peace as they practise a lifelong Zen
Of ducks that meditate whilst swim at ease….
Alas, he whose mind’s puffed-up seems but man,
Never at peace, how so fair wafts the breeze.
Smug at the crest of Creation’s long chain,
Beware O man, head over heart’s thy bane.
__________________________ ______
Reflections | 03.04.2014, revised July 2026 | bliss, men, mind, moon, peace, Sonnet
Onyx veined moon
peeps behind a frilled
crystal cut cloud adrift
black ink stoic sky
has its pallette
pleading for a
bristled brush
in the hands
of visionary
captivated by
a mystic miracle
that glowing orb
it neatly nestles
whilst weaving
wispy strands
of scattered
lunar beams
oe’r pliant
dark tree top
foliage swaying
to sharp breeze
scenic stimulus
an earnest art
grove gallery by
adjoining stream
in flow and trickle
stint akin to cue
for lambent
loiterer glum
so perplexed
yet inward
inkling as orbit
of the artisan
pen or paint
closet dabbler
whose inertia
frozen frigid
hidebound
hankers for
silken swoon
from that
celestial
of bodies
to spark
a latent fiery
gumption
bubbling
blandly
within each
arch after
hour budding
Rembrandt
It's insane how vain they've been in the Bazball reign
Disdain campaign won't refrain restrain slain again
Won't explain just say we'll double down entertain
In the Bazball larder one ingredient just go harder
Their riposte we lost because we did well over train
Despaired repeat defeat flared cos were too prepared
Inane taking the pis* our abyss Aussie bliss... Bris Bane
Restrictions; the man's enemy
They are imaginary lines
That we simply choose to abide
False walls that keep us caged away
Stopping us from doing our best
Limiting our kind constantly
Living lies which won't ever die
Being too stubborn to let go
And let mankind finally thrive
Without horrid limitations
Which cause many headaches for all
And hinder our development
But despite our better judgement
We let these road stops control us
And for no good reason at all
We stop all movement in its tracks
Compare thee to a summer’s day?
No, my dear, you are a goddess of dismay.
You are the bane of my heart, for you own it completely.
You control my mind without a single effort, and for that you are my enemy.
Thou art lovely and temperate?
No, you are imperfect and cold as Mount Everest.
You freeze my heart with ignorance,
And light it once more with a start.
You are not a summer’s day.
You are a snowstorm that comes in spite of the sunlight of May.
You are the rain that plagues those who have no roof to under stay.
You are the disease that kills and spirits souls away.
Compare thee to a summer’s day?
No, it’s impossible.
There is no way.
Beyond the hills, the storm,
oh, yellow queens they quake;
poor Autumn aspens feel
old weight of weakened leaves
the hostile winds will steal.
Beyond the hills the storm
it brews, like coffee black.
A bitter sky will fall
—dainty saintly sunlight
a martyr for the squall…
Beyond the hills the storm,
My dreams in strobe-light flash.
Engage in shadow dance
the clash of sane and bane;
a silk and burr romance.
Beyond the hills the storm—
yes banshee gonna wail!
The gray steel rain a strafe
a suitor six-shooter.
My tongue; a silent waif.
Me moaning, misfortune you gave,
But think, what a big boon you gave.
On my forehead you wrote great ruin,
And feel, immense fortune you gave.
Melodious scores to all too soon,
To me, not but harsh tune you gave.
To all, silver of a full moon,
To me, nights of new moon you gave.
A caterpillar in cocoon,
T’me, no butterfly boon you gave.
Yet, made me from sorrows immune,
And a crown of sand dune you gave.
Dark nights made me a man of noon,
Thanks, sunlight of hot June you gave.
_________________________
Ghazal |08.11.2024| boon, fortune, butterfly, moon
Poet’s note: Ask anyone. No one would say he has been fortunate to get what he deserved. Man by nature grumbles, no matter what. This ghazal seems to play the same tune, but not quite. He still sees reasons enough to feel grateful.
Joy of pleasure, a child of poor parents,
Bliss alone founts from a perpetual spring,
Joy fancies scores of fond uncles and aunts,
Never lasts long the song they choose to sing.
Being a moth made of mere moments nigh,
It sleeps all day, to wake in glare of night,
O Bliss, thou art a dancing butterfly
That spreads its beauteous wings in Nature’s light.
Perhaps I should call thee a honey bee
That gently sucks nectar from a flower
Beetle, nor ever a black bumblebee
That plums and cherries a whole would devour.
Thou art a Lark that no rain clouds would chase,
The bane of joy of pleasure’s to be blasé.
__________________________________________
Sonnet |04.10.2010| joy, pleasure, bliss
Poet’s Note: Mundane joys and pleasures are carnal and they never last long, unlike bliss that founts from deep within. As a popular poetic imagination goes, an Indian Lark, called Chatak, drinks directly from raindrops falling in its widely open beak. It prefers to go thirsty but would never appease rain clouds.
You were so okay, but I was in misery
for me it was love, for you, seemed philanthropy
I needed a lover's bind, but you craved the freedom lane
all your selfish philosophy, in the end, was my bane.
(11.03.2023)
Slime is a subtle stage for blame I can’t stay stuck to your ways/
I’m a little vague so your game I’ll ante up to plague/
While a tirade goes for their bane they played and waged/
I’ll abrogate woes to lurk away more straight/
Compile and appropriate foe’s to contain your plate/
The trial of a pirate goes on to con tame and irrigate/
Denial of a tyrant that strove along to drain and irritate/
Then dial a vibrant cat to move strong and plain annihilate/
A senile re-brand that drove a pronged strain to acclimate/
The tribal withstand fought a shove from one that longed again to act just or right/
Sir it’s vital to know the zone read was a wrought lot and would attract a prejudice overnight/
Survival of a homestead sought above tact and when injustice is worth a fight/
Sure is final now just like a home’s bed brought to a spot held at last a permanent site/
Brace yourself
For in this world of grief
That harbors the venom of deceit
Even a blade of grass could slit
More so with a stone and whip
So be careful not to slip
For the judgment of the bigoted
Is as harsh as the prejudiced
The may assail you with their bane
You may not even be aware
That the one you helped to dwell
Was the one sent to cast the spell
September 23, 2022
There is no god in England
(I learned of that this day)
For when a man is stricken
He has no more to say.
He lies in expectation,
The end to shortly be,
Torment is blindly gazing out
Through eyes that barely see.
The blaze within his body
Radiates, and yet,
The chilling of his very soul
Allows him to forget.
With sonance all around him,
The sobbing and the tears,
He listens to so many words
Whereas he hardly hears.
And so, within his restless mind
His hopes are all he'll keep;
All he'll find to warm his heart
As those about him weep.
And in the darkness of the hour,
When all is done and said,
He sleeps the sleep that comes to pass
And rapes his weary head.
power to create
desired and so was granted
birthing Frankenstein
16-January-2022
White swan pair in majestic quietude
Gliding on lake waters in contentment
Engrossed in togetherness solitude
Are joyous in their native element
At end of days, musing on gift of life
The power of reason, once boon now bane
We dwell in dark dungeons, given to strife
Deludedly measuring loss and gain
Fleeting is life, yet we are blind to light
God essence; our divinity within
Counsel of conscience steers us to path right
Enslaved by desire, we indulge in sin
Take back, dear God, power of our free will
We will be still, as voids within You fill
12-November-2021
surrender of thought
the tranquil stillness
enlivened by bliss
annihilates will
making us incomplete
until the currents
purr on uninterrupted
through day and night
no one remains
and yet we are
24-September-2021
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