Its way of being salient-
And so picturesque with bloodstains
On its edges.
Its way of being so united-
And so whole with fragments
In its core.
Its way of being so innocent-
And so angelic with rust feeding
On its being.
Its way of being so joyous-
And so blissful with despondency eating
At its soul.
With flame to it,
And such spirit to it, there’s-
Much acedia thriving.
With humility to it,
And such amity, there’s-
Much superbia thriving.
With satisfaction to it,
And much contentment, there’s-
Much avaritia thriving
With candour to it,
And much modesty, there’s
Much calliditas thriving.
Its fumes, when do vanish-
They do vanish wholly to
show the nymph it is.
Its tenderness, when does vanish-
It does vanish wholly to
show the scales there are.
Its carnality, when does vanish-
It does vanish wholly to
Show the bane over the wine…
Voracity not veracity mendacity groomer
Capacity for pugnacity is not a rumour
Rapacity of the seedy needy consumer
Sagacity no audacity of the baby boomer
Morality calamity stalks like a greedy puma
Tenacity but with no candour or humour
Opacity because their salacity is a tumour
Of all the folks you know who makes you smile?
Jokes that stokes strokes your soul for a while
In a poll who would stroll to the top of the pile
Which peeps we love heaps leaps over the stile
Candour so rich scratches that itch does beguile
Hatches humour that does bewitch off the dial
Fresh as glacial air their rare own homegrown style
Another year of more sneers tears jeers than cheers
Can't rile never a bit*h even if the subject of vile bile
Alana our nirvana she can handle any scandal or trial
Religion worthwhile Fezz would walk her up the aisle
A good witch you are the best gal & pal.. no denial
As magical wonderful as the winding spellbinding Nile
You’re blinding (London lingo) doff our hat
To maybe the coolest cat that we’ve met yet
On this Isle.. let's begin with your cheeky grin
Which is why you win the bet by a country mile
Poem written on 10th November, 2025
for "The Earth's Oceans Poetry Contest"
by Constance La France.
"The sea sheaths her gluttonous grip in a calm candour."
quote by the author.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From the Greek myth of the Titan Atlas, your name,
In saltiness, no sea can quite compare.
Your mighty footprints press upon many nations —
Only the Pacific reaches more shores and coasts.
You bore the deceit that chained Africans —
Changed the hues of faces in the Americas.
You ferried millions into dark living shackles —
A graveyard for rebellious ones.
Upon your blue-green belly wars were won and lost;
You echoed the Cuban missile crisis.
You swallowed the Titanic mid its pleasure trip,
Still hold Gustloff's nine thousand bones.
You foster commerce and the flow of trade,
Yielding black gold with tireless ease.
You guard rich treasures for mankind,
Yet hide your deepest secrets in your vastest depths.
Is it true that with earthquake you sank Atlantis?
Do you have a triangle that vanish vessels?
Have you assigned a coast to the Sargasso Sea?
All these rumours your silence spreads both far and near.
though pen whispers its words,
even echoes perceive its poignant allure,
beyond the scratched surface, it breathes deep,
percolating the senses with its aura—
sniffed as the fragrance of rose.
in thought’s depths nib probes,
to uncover the truth hidden in words—
splashed on the parchment of beasts,
gleaming like stars through the night’s dark sky.
it lifts chaff from the winnowed grains,
to plant in great minds the beauty that grows,
and gleams in billowing beacons as hope despite gloom,
winning hearts, garnering accolades in droves.
still it purifies ponderings and erases errors—
not with force but with subtlety
of persuasion, illumination, and quiet candour—
to rejuvenate and kindle weary souls.
Not fretting couldn’t be gladder about getting podgy?
Forgetting about a stodgy bladder that’s definitely dodgy?
Sadder even snotty about needing a potty..regretting being dotty
Betting some grotty grumps about bumps & lumps anything spotty
Sometimes memory stumps.. only remember embers now befuddled
Somehow the huddled cast of the distant past still cuddled
Ashes of once clear flashes of near yesteryear appear muddled
Ribald oracle.. grinning about going bald...hair thinning
Apart from the ears and nose where it shows..grows & flows
Can't pretend follicle foes & woes.. do descend dear friend
Clearer you're now nearer to the rear end than the beginning
Refined increasingly find you do become more kind
Other than the tumour of another baby boomer
Defined needy seedy greedy.. must feed me consumer
Not a rumour..increasingly I pined for candour and humour
Chaps can perhaps blossom as a wined & dined late bloomer
No remorse.. scheming larrikin leaning's still in force
Gleaning the gleaming meaning of life is all about giving
Dreaming.. loving.. smile beaming and "living" of course
Forget riffs of regrets
But
To the hilt
We tilt to
Inbuilt lilt
A guilt quilt
Can jilt & wilt
But
No tiffs with what ifs
Won’t let you fret
Circumspect.. I find
Older you get
Bet..more honest…more kind
Care more..know more
Late bloomer rumour
Embraces candour...humour
Respect velvety vagaries
Traces of reflect
Suspect future’s the tutor
Detect serendipity the suitor
Evolution..glints of revolution
Pip that convoluted New Year’s tip
Genuinely don’t genuflect
No sorrow...deflect hints
Of mooted rebooted resolution
Suspect Tomorrow might
Be your best day yet!
As you settle into year 15,
reflect upon what came before.
The 14 years of being you,
allll creatures/people you adore.
There have of course been troubled times -
Life does not spare the least of us.
But these misfortunes must not blind,
The chance to grow a little more.
Your willful beauty, strength of poise,
undoubted talent, all employs ...
To make you who the world does see.
Now we; we see much more - for sure!
A gentle empathetic heart,
The understated counterpart,
Of outward guise. We love this part!
And wish you joy, with all candour.
Happy Birthday beautiful girl!
The resemblance of the omnipotence imprinted
With rare colours and shades elegantly tinted
Cherubims and seraphs adorn my being's core.
Like the capacious cosmos, I am in candour.
Senses surpass the physique and touch the psyche.
Wisdom arises beyond my likes and dislikes.
Allure becomes affection. Lust turns into love.
Divine graces, like monsoon rains, fall from above.
Consciousness and unconsciousness seem to conflict.
Connections of clear conscience, yet, within, get flicked
Like the lustre of the sun, the moon, and the stars
Rays of virtue erase naiveté’s sombre scars.
I am on earth and in heaven at the same time.
Body and soul, like church bells, are in tuneful chime.
What's heaven and hell when divine presence pervades?
The grimness of death and grave becomes godly glades.
If I have awareness of an artiste,
Perceptive heart per chance of a poet,
A mind that loves harmony all amidst,
Freshness of dewdrops and wings of a jet,
Which can on imagination soar wild
On a capricious tour on quirk of whim,
A spur-of-spot wonder, candour of child,
Fantasy to dwell in the world of dream…
If so, let me post life's first private page
‘Pon stepping into life’s second childhood
That leads me to my dream—mellow old age,
That I hope, helps soften my solitude….
‘If I', ah what a wonderful wish bird,
Yet, can there be any such bird in world?
_____________________________________
Sonnets | 02.07.2009, revised July 2024 | wish, bird
I was born a poet not manufactured.
It started with a heart feeling fractured.
Childhood trauma led to built up suppression,
but the soul yearned for creative expression.
For years my poems hid in secret memoirs,
but a battle with cancer left behind deep scars.
Tongue remained silent, but my muse began to pour,
through reflection and introspective candour.
Some use words as weapons to cause sorrow,
but I write to leave a legacy for tomorrow.
I have no desire for applause nor for fame,
so I express my musings using a pen name.
Each verse is written through metaphorical blood,
in hope one day my life will be understood.
The evil doers (do they have any religion?) thought
The sun, when it doesn't shine as per their will, should be set.
Though millions of distorted versions of the truth were brought
What did they, ultimately, as a gift for their sins, get?
Resurrection, nay, resuscitation, was long-destined.
How could death, nothing more than the steward of life, enslave
Could the course of the core and crust of Candour be questioned?
Didn't he come to save each one from the brink of the grave?
As rebirth, chicks out of eggs dance. Bunnies bounce. Spring arrives
The goddess Eostre, like a glowworm, is flying around.
White lilies lure the landscapes. Little children catch fireflies.
Mystery and history mingle as angels's surround
Hungry graves craved as the godhead ended its existence.
Isn't Easter all on the radiance of omniscience?
Approached by a witch on Halloween one should, look her straight in the eye and knock on wood.Quote - Poet’s own
It's Halloween night, beware of the knock
Safeguard yourselves and have your doors on lock
There's witches on prowl, who cast a dire spell
Avoid those spells for they never do well.
Night sky is riddled with witches on brooms
With scary cats sat on the back they zoom
Surrounded by bats waiting to attack
Anyone out there, for a tasty snack.
Do not be tempted to sup a witch’s brew
There’s no telling the damage it could do
For they boil innards of rats and lizards
Be cautious as most witches are wizards.
Close your windows for ghosts are on the scene
If they sneak in you are likely to scream
Watch out for ghouls, they are demons and pests
And they don’t listen to angry protests.
It may be trick or treaters knock your door
Or devilish scamps who have no candour
Put treats outside, no tricks they’re a have not
Hark this advice before you get a knock.
The lighthouse blinks with candour
Invites the close of the day
The merging with the shore of creation
The night at the end of the bay
The darkening pools in the moonlight
The caverns that call below
The waves that seem all-knowing
The phosphorescent glow
Down beneath the ocean
A chasm awaits me now
The answer to the question
Where will my spirit go?
I want to be wrapped in nature's hue,
Lost in its splendour,
Embraced by its candour,
I'm feeling blue,
I'm being misconstrued,
My world is latent to them,
They can't come into my realm,
I'm ascending the pinnacle,
I'm chauffeured to the miracle.
I'll smash through every obstacle.
February 28, 2023.
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