Don’t let the mind build fires in the dark,
Where heavy thoughts leave a burning mark.
They say that the worry that tugs at your sleeve
Is a pyre waiting for you to grieve.
It consumes without heat, with a hollow sound,
Turning your spirit to ash on the ground.
You’ve walked the miles in the sun’s heavy glare,
Dragging the plough through the stagnant, thick air.
Months of the labour, the sweat, and the grit,
Yielding more strength than the candle you lit.
Yet one flash of anger, a spark in the chest,
Steals from the spirit its promise of rest.
We break our backs under the harvest moon,
Humming a tired, productive tune.
We mend the fences, we gather the grain,
Finding a solace in the ache and the pain.
For work is a bridge that leads to the day,
While worry just stands in the light of the way.
So lay down the baggage, the ghosts in the hall,
Don’t let the shadow make you feel small.
A moment of rage costs more than the years
Spent working the fields through the sweat and the tears.
Be kind to the vessel, be gentle, be slow,
And let the cold pyre extinguish its glow.
It's not novel, yet dismal, to lament,
those still living, whom simply cannot be.
Whose void is tangible, not transient,
whose absence, each year, one can never flee.
I'd seen glimpses of what could be, should be;
love, joy, awe, through faith, in God, a bright life.
For all their wacky laughs, crazy walks, games,
there were such deep trials, suffering, and strife.
But for this new season, one must let go,
and live one's life, with purpose and courage.
And take the joy, love, awe I should've known,
to my own home, for God, to let flourish.
01.05.2026
A poem a day
It’s lonelier to grieve.
Because I knew you.
Because I loved you.
Because I still do.
And now I carry that love
Like a body that won’t stop breathing.
I cry for the life you didn’t live.
For the mornings you missed.
For the years I still imagine even though
I know better.
I cry because I saw you becoming
And then I saw you stop.
I drown in thought.
Not memory
That would mean you were here.
I drown in the future I built around you.
The one you never asked for
But I gave you anyway.
You were supposed to stay.
You were supposed to grow old.
I grieve the man you never got to be.
The one I still talk to in my head when I’m scared
Or tired
Or pretending I’m fine.
I grieve the version of me
Who would’ve loved you longer.
Who would’ve learned how to forgive you for leaving.
I hate the silence. It sounds like you.
I hate the quiet. It feels like you.
I hate the way I still wait for something
that isn’t coming.
You are gone.
But you are everywhere.
In the things I can’t say.
In the breath I hold.
In the way I keep living
Like it means something.
~~~
There were so many present today,
To pay their respects and
To bid you their final farewells.
Some expressed grief at your sudden absence,
Some took a fond walk down the memory lane.
Some left early having fulfilled their societal responsibility,
Some sat in silence, unable to articulate their many thoughts.
What about me, you ask?
I wondered.
I wondered what will it be like?
When I run out of the last of your favourite biscuits.
Or when the bedroom stops smelling of your aftershave.
When your loyal labrador is too old to go for a walk,
And when the flowers stop piling at your grave.
When the oak tree in the backyard withers,
And when they stop selling your treasured cigarettes.
What if our trusted tea shop around the corner closes down?
And all your shirt buttons start coming undone one by one.
I wondered.
I wondered what will it be like?
When everyone stops grieving,
When everyone moves on.
What will it be like?
When I lose you in the truest sense,
And I finally grieve in a world happy without you.
Today I grieve... and tomorrow.
Every tear that falls
on the second jaw
is there because of gravity,
or sorrow has something
to do with it--
my leaking groundward
as fingers grasp my crown
probing deep into scalp
for an answer--
when nothing more is found
but wet scraps of hair.
November enters, October grieves
When winds whip up leaves
Thirty-nine and thirty-eight…
Let me get this straight.
Thirty-seven and thirty-six…
How can I be in this fix?
Thirty-five and thirty-four…
Are you sure there is no more?
Thirty-three and thirty-two…
What can I do?
Thirty-one and thirty…
Now I'm getting shirty!
Twenty-nine and twenty-eight…
I don't accept this fate!
Twenty-seven and twenty-six…
I refuse to be in this fix!
Twenty-five and twenty-four…
I’ll settle this score.
Twenty-three and twenty-two…
What's my life worth to you?
Twenty-one and twenty…
If it's money, I've got plenty.
Nineteen and eighteen…
I demand to stay on the scene!
Seventeen and sixteen…
C'mon! On a deal, I’m keen.
Fifteen and fourteen…
Your stubbornness is obscene.
Thirteen and twelve…
I’ve negotiations to shelve.
Eleven and ten…
I guess I'll just give in.
Nine and eight…
It's getting late.
Seven and six…
This, I can't fix.
Five and four…
There is no more.
Three and two…
I love you.
One and done.
I grieve for all of what can never ever come to be.
I grieve for all the moments and times in which others have left me.
I grieve for all the ways I could have lived differently.
when more money spend
to me another bill send
on income depend
about game will talk
either was a hit or walk
or had been a balk
had been well rehearsed
for being best and not worst
in standing was first
when we heard God call
many sins caused us to fall
each one will appall
when my sins will hurt
God does serve meals with dessert
gives me a growth spirt
when we start to grieve
from the sins we do receive
will always relieve
Someone wrote this song before
And I could tell where it from
Cause the face may have changed
But the lyrics were still the same
Love never is easy
But still I wanted it to be real
Maybe I expected more from you
And now I have nothing to feel
Told me you were mine
But left a fine line
Gave your heart to me
But love where's the key
Loving you was never a choice
But look where it brought me
Now I am crying singing lullabies
But you haunt me even in my dreams
And maybe if I just close my eyes
Lie down and just grieve
Wishing for my pain to end
But why won't your memories leave...
Heart singing
Come with me
Be free as the breeze
Building dreams
Escaping
All your misery
If you grieve
May you be free
From sorrow and pain
May you be
In a state of peace
Like healing blue rain
May you find peace.
The flower bloom
Is just like you
May your face seek sun
Power in you
Pulls like moon
Prayers for everyone
May you find joy
Fill any void
Explore your happy dreams
May you find
A peace of mind
Wise in spirituality
May you find peace
I grieve for someone too lonely,
and that heart-broken one is me;
can I ever hold back tears and be strong?
Can I ever find comfort in this sad song?
I shouldn't be greeting loneliness,
but break away from it any moment,
looking for two lips to sweetly kiss;
staring into two pretty eyes that delight!
I grieve for someone too lonely,
and that loveless one is this broken guy...
reaching out and hoping to find
that lovely woman that's also a true friend!
I shouldn't be selfish, thinking of myself alone;
I just need to share what I hide inside,
make someone happy and feel a good vibe;
getting rid of pride and not sit on my throne!
It's insane to grieve for someone too lonely,
I'll stop shedding tears, I'll restore my courage
and stack every odd in my favor finally;
life must be lived happily, shunning rage!
To grieve for someone too lonely
brings endless isolation and pity!
Were I to stretch my feet on floor,
The walls would lead me to the door.
If I walk tall, a bit unbent,
If not the roof my head would dent.
If only should I sleep all crawled—
As per the training I had ere
In my mother’s womb when I dwelled,
That training all the fruits now bear.
Yet, grieve not O my burial ground,
All crawled I’ll lie in a small grave,
Precious space of graveyard to save,
Descends when that death-seeking hound.
If need be, at the time when dead,
I can sleep yogi-like seated.
__________________________________
Sonnet |03.10.2023| grave, house
Ah, has anyone ever thought
that love would have become the object
of sexual gratification for many?
Can we deny the misery that repulses us?
Who safeguarded it were humble mothers
teaching their kids the right way to give;
have we changed our prospective,
becoming too liberal pushing aside
the divine thought of holiness,
the narrative of spoken words?
They never stained our conscience
with heavy guilt; they embellished
our minds with profound sentiment,
not being less caring and protective.
If humbleness has been replaced by pride,
and naughty thoughts are far from holy:
do we blame ourselves for what we perceive?
Do we look deeper into our conscience and grieve?
Do not grieve the time
We could not be together,
For the old, maturing wine
Won't mourn its loss of fruit
Do not grieve the places
We could have known together,
For budding flowers aren't as fragrant
As when they're in full bloom
Do not grieve the days
We could not spend together,
For we will cherish all the more,
The many years to come.
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