Navigated Poems | Examples

A Beacon of Warmth

A force of nature, with a heart so grand,
She walked this earth, a light in the land.
Our Auntie Dana, fierce and free,
Like the hammerhead shark she loved to see.

She navigated life's deepest, darkest seas,
Finding solace and strength on her bended knees.
In the Bible, her compass, she found her way,
Guiding her through each and everyday.

For her three boys, her love knew no bound,
In their triumphs, her greatest joy was found.
Then came the grandkids, a new chapter to start,
Each one a treasure held close to her heart.

Aunt to so many and mother to all,
With laughter and cheer, 
she banished our sorrows, our every fear.
Her witty humor, her infectious grin,
A beacon of warmth, from deep within.

Though she faced tempests and trials unkind.
A beautiful spirit, she left behind.
So let her memory live, a whisper on the breeze,
Among the vibrant, sunlit, whispering trees.
A testament to a beautiful, brave, and loving heart,
From which we never, ever, have to part.

Love you Aunt Dana, We will miss you!

Alone in the Deep

They walked with me across the bridge,  
Holding onto the sides to keep it steady.  
I took careful steps,  
But they assured me that it was firm.  
I walked across unhurt.

They accompanied me through the meadow,  
Where I was afraid of the taunting shadows.  
They promised to brighten their lamps,  
And the light dispersed the shadows,  
Leaving us no longer trailed by the night.

They journeyed with me through the mire,  
Though I feared the depth beneath us.  
They held my hands and lifted me,  
And as I looked to my right and left,  
They smiled at me,  
So I navigated through the muck but didn’t sink.

They travelled with me across the sea,  
They carried me on their shoulders.  
When we reached the middle of the sea,  
Suddenly, they disappeared.  
I fell, plunging into the depths,  
Struggling to rise to the surface.  
As I sank, I saw an approaching hand,  
And I remain within this vision.


September 1, 2025.

The Bird With Vertigo

It’s too high, far too high, I cannot look down at the floor’
Said the bird who realised she suffered from vertigo
‘But it’s only a bird bath’ this really is too silly
Said her impatient friend, who by now was rather chilly.

‘Why me, why me? I can’t believe it’s happened to me!’
Said the bird to her friend, wishing she could flee. 
We’ve got to get this sorted, we’ve got to get this right
If you are to ever take your very first true flight. 

‘I have an idea, I think it might just work’
Said the bird to his friend, as she might just go berserk 
‘If you simply close your eyes and imagine you can float
As if you’re perched safely, on a magic flying coat

The bird with vertigo said ‘maybe I can try’
Then closed her eyes tightly, as she flew up in the sky
She dare not even look, for fear that she may fall
But her friend was right beside her, at her beck and call. 

‘You’re flying!’ said her friend ‘I’m so very, very proud’
As they both navigated carefully, each and every cloud,
Now you are a bird who is not afraid to fall,
You can do it if you try, is a lesson for us all.

Non Compos Mentis

Pain that rips across my head
Like a bullet in the sky
Other problems are the cause
Answers to which belie

Clearly it’s not straightforward
As a multi-faceted mind plight
The road still being navigated
With no clear end in sight

What does it take, one wonders
To strip me from this shell
I must somehow battle endless angst
And fight my way out of this hell

The tendency to go insane
Is soothed by the sounds of drops of rain
Providing consolatory solace to
The prison in my brain

On an excursion of investigation
To a solution momentous
A dilemma once explored by Freud
My ‘non compos mentis’

Healing, a path
Will take much time
Dealing with each of the root causes
Obstacles, I’m yet to climb
Bearing little room for pauses

The Change In Us

Settle in 
Let me take you on a ride of a lifetime
The twists the turns
The fears we all have
It's a game of chance
This life we lead
Oh the dips the crosses the estrange
We all walk amongst the Graves
We ponder the conclusions 
We captivate the creations
It's all around us this carnival of chaos
The clowns come running
The lions are roaring
We all want you to hear the screams
It's not for the fate of heart
It's much more then a ride
It's a discovery of uncharted land
A key to our emotions
A border for the strange
It's gamble on us
A bet for our riches
It's a common place
But yet so unfimiar 
It's a realization that we control this ride
We take it in stride 
We watch it go faster and faster
The days of our lives how do we fill this ride
How do we get pure satisfaction 
We buckle in and enjoy the ride
Because in the end it's all about what we have become and how we navigated the change in us.

WITH GOD AS OUR RUTTER

As ships in a storm,
Let’s not be dashed to pieces;
God being our rutter:-
Navigated by God,
Faithfully sail life's waters:-

love, to love

~ for Mom & Dad ~

love …

was the air
that you breathed …
there was no course navigated
no interaction made
no thought processed or
act completed
no example set as people or parents
that didn’t have that concern as
its primary edict …
and while life has blessed me far
beyond what a fool like
me could ever hope to deserve,
there is not and never will be
a grace granted me that exceeds the
very simple, very precious gift
of having been your son …
time does NOT make the loss of
you any easier or kind
but I have found strength in the
promise of carrying on,
at least in my best efforts and
hopeful intentions,
your inestimable legacy …

of love.








( I miss you like lovers miss moonlite )

A New Start

Oh ad astra I have gazed from afar 
for some semblance of who I used to be;
All that remains is disheveled debris;
Somehow I left my fractured heart ajar
and poison has tainted it’s reservoir;
This violation I could not foresee,
I navigated through it thankfully;
Now I am acquainted with a raised bar;

My foundation’s damage is now repaired, 
the scars on me now tattooed I did work;
Displaying the healed parts of me as art 
I reveal myself I’m no longer scared; 
Any version other than serene’s knee jerk,
standing I’m ready now for a new start.

Doing What I Love - Mixed

When I was little, before I started school,
my dream was to be a professional dancer
for I knew I had that natural talent instilled
in me, talent that was not taken seriously.

The magic, beauty of dance stayed in me.
Although, I never had any dance lessons,
I was always selected to perform at my
schools, recitals and community events. 

Life took over and as I navigated the many
twists, turns, inclines and descents of my life,
like a roller coaster, it became loud and clear
I was not meant to be a professional dancer.

My burning desire to dance flickered, as it
was put on the back burner for many years. 
It was set on fire after I retired and started
dance lessons and living the time of my life.

It has been six years since I have been doing what
I love, dancing to express the beauty of dance in
my feelings, grace, agility, moves that the people
around me watch and feel the liveliness within me.
Yes, they come and tell me ….

That Note

How glad I could be if, like the teaching of the Gita
I can renounce the fruits of each of my tireless labour.
Being a long way from the perfection of Lord Krishna
Midst lost gifts, I'd seek my son's note that I value greater

As boyish, buoyant naughtiness navigated his road
Fun and frolic outwitted his fervour for true wisdom.
Roaming carefree, like a hippy, his youthful trails he trod
My hopes for him were hushed like the glows of a broken prism.

He grew up with his mother dead; I was his all in all.
My chides pierced his heart, which, I know, might be like a knife.
Like a gipsy, with a note, he left; didn't write or call.
That precious note is lost; I feel as though I've lost my life.

Silver, gold, or gems would never match a paternal bond.
Though in the travails of time, bonds tend to fly far beyond

Who Am I

Ignorant, is not my identity in my struggle for my race.

Damaged, is not my identity by the disparaging arrows flung at me.

Effected, is not my identity to the wickedness of man.

Negligent, is not my identity as a moral human being.

Tattered, is not my identity.

Impatient, is not my identity to the slow walk in my ancestor's shoes.

Transparent, is not my identity.

Yes, it is not my identity to be caught up in the windmills of others' minds.



Ideology, my identity is invested.

Distinguished is my identity in my faith in the almighty God.

Emancipated is my identity from a life of mental oppression and inhibition.

Navigated am I with a strong will to be a part of a struggle for justice.

Tenacity is my identity.

Ignited is my identity blazed in the hope of a change.

Tagged is my identity by the history of my culture.

Youthful optimism is one of the many facets of my identity.


copyright 2016

Colossians 3:15

And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body, and be ye thankful.

Beneath the Strawberry Moon

Hoisting passions fervid, probing celestial height,
Hypnotized we stood, enthralled in smile of June,
Caressing dreams flirtatious of a romantic night,
Reaffirming love, beneath the strawberry moon.

Pulsing beats heavenly, fantasies esoteric chased,
Thrilling realm of love, resonating deep in your heart,
Content in your embrace, as memories intimate traced,
Echoes of promises eternal, forever vows impart.

Seeing you rejoiced, snuggled in my loving arms,
Nary a cloud dared to encumber cerulean skies,
As you navigated sight through opaline sea of stars
Tantalizing flame of passion, sparkling doting eyes,

Having been wooed by mystical glimpse of Luna,
Proffering blush of aura, tantalizing romance,
Bedecking tints orange upon luminous rosy awe
Seducing stance-entranced of enamored glance,

Gazing with throbbing hearts, where desires croon,
Hypnotized we stood, enthralled in smile of June,
Humming melodies, in sync with the celestial tune,
Reaffirming love, beneath the strawberry moon.

I'm Great Full For the Life I've Lived

In the tapestry of time, I've thrived,
With each moment, my heart revived.
Through trials and joys, I've strived,
Grateful for the life I've lived.

From dawn's first light to twilight's hue,
I've gathered memories, old and new.
A journey of love, both tried and true,
In every step, my spirit grew.

I've danced with laughter, embraced the tears,
Navigated through hopes and fears.
With open arms, I've faced the years,
Blessed for the path that's been so clear.

Gratitude swells, a gentle tide,
For the life I've lived, far and wide.
In this symphony, I've played my part,
Forever thankful, with an open heart.

Not This Rose

I saw a dazzling rose,
Whose red petals cast blinding hues upon me.
She shot her cupid arrows from the Kabaka’s backyard,
And punctured the cocoon of my innocence.  

My heart burnt for a feel of her spangled petals,
My ferocious passions lost their sturdy grip on restraint as
I, like a pollen-famished bee, sniffed her whiff;
I gorged on her rosy scent, like a Don Quixote.

Then, I plucked her off the tribal bough;
And navigated the Nile River with her,
Tacked in the valves of my heart,
For a cross boarder allogamy.

What a welcome from my kinsfolk!
Furrows ridging the faces of my kinsmen,
Spittle of disgust masticating the hungry soils,
Grey beards wagging and waging a silent war;
 Alien!

The Eastern Gate Finale

Elasticity of time allowed him this 
One last visit to the Eastern Gate:
One too many wormholes navigated
Made it one hundred years too late.
The City had been sealed 
And peace reigned over all
As the holograph of its history
Played against the City wall.
A half glanced form
A shadowed face
As the image moved
To another place

The people dispersed 
To Cities then newly grown
But the details of dispersion
Not recorded or known.
In his eyes he felt
The stinging of tears,
The paradox of warp travel,
The slowing of elapsed years,
Made him so much younger
Than his date of birth
A kind of compensation
For living divorced from Earth.

She was gone for ever
Now probably just bones
And, as in most of his life
He felt so emotionally alone. 
The Eastern Gate behind him,
Homage having been made,
Regret reviewed and filed, 
And last respects paid.
The holographed history
For him a type of hell,
His starship command waited
So he said his last farewell,

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