We all need to hope,
in life so we can cope.
It will give us rest,
then we can do our talented best.
Hope can be a great friend,
to the very end.
Hope where would I be without you?
I do not have a clue.
NO CODE AND NO CLUE
A man who is nice and in charge of his life
and shys from gratuitous chances.
On paper a man, made for a wife,
but who has no clue what romance is.
It's young girl's fantasies bought and sold.
Fairytales from a hungry pen.
Now bad boys replaced the rebels of old.
Real life bad boys are just bad men.
D'Artagnon, Zorro, and Robin Hood,
when the bad boy hero had a code.
A rebellious lot whose hearts were good.
Now they just stop killing to reload.
The chivalrous knight became such a bore.
The bad boy makes the girls tingle.
So off they forge on their fantasy tour,
and good guys all end up single.
_________________________________
I see a picture of a stream surrounded by hills blocking its forward passage. It still finds the way in how so long years. And this sets me thinking—a mortal man feeling humble before Nature. I imagine, so does a Karmic act, a cause always finding effect. It is a law of Nature, no saga seeking retribution. An act undertaken how so hidden to human ken, its echoes always getting registered in the universe? Perhaps.
_____________________________
Beware thence O man,
Think not no one knows but you,
Not so stays hidden.
Like a bolt from far off blue
Falls off ripe fruit, not a clue.
__________________________
Musings | 24.05.2026 | act/karma, fruit, men, Nature, Tanka
For many years now I've been a crossword buff
Nowadays they are only cryptic but for me some are much too tough
It's always the Pommies who create the greatest challenge
The cryptics in their newspapers, The Guardian, The Times
if I can solve six clues, I feel I've got revenge
To ease some built up frustration, escape from spoonerisms and other things I sqizz
Revert to Code Crackers ( not that far gone yet}and the daily on line trivia quiz
Many years ago I worked with a man who I judged as totally insane
Give him a cryptic crossword all done within a flash every single day time and time again
There exists an old adage never judge a book by it's cover
There's a lot more to many people we will no doubt oft discover
As more than a few
flew to Peru
to peruse the view
who knew
or had a clue
what a man's to do
in the cerulean blue
but stand in the queue
to use the loo
and if you go too
or tootle on through
in lieu of a zoo
you're due to accrue
sights of a llama or two
in Machu Picchu
your love is s~~w~~e~~e~~t
your ~s~m~i~l e\ is the C
L
U
E
I need not be told
f
e
e
d me that s~w~e~e~t~n~e~s~s
my thanks won't be any L
E
S
S
just trust me and see
Since the dawnlight carved my shape from flame/
I have worn your slander like a crown of ash/
You whisper my name like sin, like shame/
But none have known exile on a scale this vast/
They crave my silence, a spectral fade/
But I blaze in defiance, unswayed, unmade/
What crime? My creation? To stand alone/
Bearing the blunt edge of a world turned stone/
You have no clue what I am/
I am the breath you dare not name/
Resilience untainted, forged in flame/
The purest echo before the dawn came/
I will rise, not fall, inherit the dust/
While your false halos crumble into rust/
The most High may rule, but never win/
For I endure, proud in this skin/
I stand upon the highest peak/
Pride not as vice, but truth you seek/
You can not break what you misread/
I am not damned, I am ahead/
You wear your virtue like disguise/
But I see the fear behind your eyes/
And while you cast me in your myths/
I remain, the flame that always is/
If only I had but a clue,
Then surely, I'd know what to do.
With life's mystery gone,
I'd settle upon
Some course that I can't now construe.
Somewhere
Somewhere it looks stately
All the respect and wanting
Took a toil
Stop using me like soil
I woke to a rip
Saw your fail and slip
Instead of doing what should
Or if you could
Doing what you could
Your joke of trying to fool me
Present a foul on you
Now lady what you going to do
Opened my eyes
No more lies
I seen it all before
Get out of that door
Younger people have no clue
That many things they like to do
Will, one day, prove to be too much,
By slipping from an aging clutch.
The rah-rah-rah and go-go-go
Of constant moving starts to slow.
The parties lasting through the night
No longer whet your appetite.
The dinners that begin at 8,
With drinks you’d once appreciate,
Give way to early-bird-type meals
With much less food, which now appeals.
The traveling to cool locales
To ski or hike with groups of pals
May be the trip you once would choose,
But now, you’d pick a river cruise.
You never think when you are young
That you would ever be among
The people who have reached the age
Where life is at a different stage.
BIRTHDAY CLUE AT DAWN
At dawn
In the little hours of a crow
I spoke to my pen to rise
Rise from bed to speak
The language that at best I understand
To the form and rhymes; I'm no stranger
Gladly the pen took over the pages
Surmounted all pressure and blunt edges
At the brook
In the hours when breeze was set
I spoke to my energy to arise
Rise from the brook and slumber-bed
To write
Write the words so beautiful to call gold
To the letters all over the world to glee to
My energy took over all the lines and contour
Setting examples for all men that are on this tour
Where then?
Shall the blade of my tongue not peruse
To the dragging of words with the recruits
Who were army not of words in literary world
They'll crumble at the pierce to rise no more
At dawn
Where I write from the reservoir
Words witty so wide on the mount top
Seen everywhere to radiate its stardom
At a time where memory is written; soaring
Clue of Age
I sat, in the garden; took in its surrounds !
View, the wizened crooked wooden fence;
drooped with a crick, a downward glance !
The back of my hands, a reflection of time,
Brittle skinned, blue veined unsteady;
An exhaled breath, of Oh ! a map of
lines, a journey of time passed,was mine;
Turned palms up, no Gypsy teller could see,
my journey, its broken fence, and satsified;
I made no whispered, reaction, or defence.
You knew, yet you didn’t have a clue.
You never knew just what to do.
The soul of this nation is crumbling in decay,
and like all our hopes and dreams, it’s rotting away.
The road to happiness has a no-entry sign,
So don’t try to tell me that everything is fine.
All the signs on Main Street say sorry but we’re closed,
how the hell we ended this way nobody knows.
They promised America would be great again,
all I got is this cesspool that we’re living in.
The store down on the corner has shuttered its door,
policemen and firemen say they can help no more.
The trees in the forests have withered and are dead,
smoke has my head spinning, my eyes are turning red.
The oceans are drying, and all the fish are gone,
hard to tell the difference between dusk and dawn.
Those last words from you are echoing in my head,
while nailed upon that cross with open wounds that bled,
You looked toward Heaven with a heart pure and true,
“forgive them oh Lord, for they know not what they do.”
"still a game of clue"
with every moment of love
it is the sound of whispers
between frozen impressions
it is each glance and stare
found entirely beyond shadows
are secret pearls of promise
held by desire and solid glare
through all corners we journey
you and I have chosen jewels
carried between sun and moon
within our world of it all
it remains a game of clue
SkyWatcher
11-29-23
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