Understand the colours,
Listen to the whispers,
Push beyond the contours,
Find tranquillity in the hues.
Colours reach out to us;
They encourage us to embark on a journey,
Exploring the depths of existence,
Discovering the mysteries of imagination.
Trapped within the painting are the perplexities and complexities of the mind.
Hidden in the artwork is the silent cry of the troubled.
Something in the painting beckons us to pause and reflect;
This leads us through a door into the universe of mysteries.
Colours are the beauty of the day in the summer glow;
They aid imaginations to blossom and grow.
Sometimes, paintings reflect what dwells within us.
Colours and paintings are the inseparable ink of creativity.
December 20, 2025.
He emerges from the twilight of his troubles
and walks into the light of a new day,
finding hope in the arrival of its elements,
searching for redemption on the illuminated path.
He learns a lesson from every wound;
Every darkness takes him back to his roots,
to the mystery hidden in his ancestors’ footsteps,
to the veil that silences his echoes.
A sage was sent to him—
a priestess who had long sought to understand the mystery of the unseen.
Together, they journeyed through a meadow of shadows,
where she spoke to the Gatekeeper of the refreshing dawn.
He understands that life is filled with complexities and perplexities.
He realises that the unseen shapes the seen.
He also knows that there will be an end to strife at Zion’s gate.
Because of this, he watches, listens, prays, hopes, and waits.
October 18, 2025.
“Leaving the battle is not about letting go of the seen but in the redemption of the unseen.”
- Quote by Poet
Dawn awakens me,
I walk on yesterday’s path,
Through its meadow,
Where visions cast long shadows.
I wake up in the arms of yesterday’s darkness,
I’m in the embrace of its complexities,
I wonder if they’ll be the day’s perplexities,
Shouldn’t a new day follow a different route?
My mind goes back and forth,
Saddled with yesterday’s plight,
Striving to open the door to the day’s light,
Beckoning on the elements of the new day.
I walk into the depths of my mind,
Searching for stillness in its chambers.
I see an awakening light,
And journey toward it amidst my turbulent thoughts.
October 10, 2025.
Flowers for a new day,
Flowers for a fresh start,
I’m embracing a new beginning,
A way of winning.
Flowers of spring,
A blooming garden,
The joy of my mother’s heart,
She sings a new song.
Flowers for tomorrow,
Yesterday was a withered meadow,
Days and nights spent in shadows,
A departure from freshness and hue.
Flowers for my love,
Flowers for the woman who embraces an enigma,
We’ve climbed mountains and crossed valleys,
She often tells me we’ll navigate through the complexities and perplexities.
Flowers for my mother,
Flowers for my pride and guide,
She holds the lamp even when her hands are weary,
Unfazed by days that feel scary,
She speaks into the dawn and tells me to open its door,
Summoning the night watchers by singing the praises of the moon.
Flowers at the end of the walk,
Flowers at the bedside of departure,
Flowers for those who have fallen on the battlefield,
Flowers at the place where our loved ones sleep.
May 10, 2025.
Maybe some of us have an inclination and are somehow aware
That there exists a foredoomed concoction of our cerebral affairs
And that there are others who are passive, masquerading in plain sight
Hiding their cascades of sorrow, behind facades of solace and smiles
Nobody knows of what escapades, that each of us were bequeathed
Yet perhaps we all know that deep down, there exists an alternative
A perplexing ringing, an insatiable itch that just won't go away
And with no concept of clarity, we unjustly gaze towards tomorrow’s hostility
Signs adorn the peripheral landscape, only their messages are wearily obsolete
Perplexities whilst disconcerting, never cause any degree of mystifying disbelief
Even though these are somewhat difficult memories, upon which we regularly reflect
Cursed are we amongst these others, undeservedly aware that the cure is the disease
It is truly with ultimate desperation that we shall endeavour never to forget
So we simply shrug this nuance aside and continually pursue the shadows tail.
The door to uncertainty,
The perplexities of today,
The unknowns of tomorrow—
We step through the door that stands before us.
The darkness of today,
The complexities of daylight,
The tranquillity of midnight—
We endeavour to catch as much catch can.
The promises of tomorrow,
The pendulum of the mind,
The joy of belief,
The mysteries that lie deep within.
The turbulence of the mind,
The struggles of the gifted,
The journey to redemption—
We share our stories.
The resilience of the inspired,
The gloom of existence,
The comfort of hospitality,
The revitalization of the weary.
The existence of the supernatural,
The tales of the sacred,
The teachings of the spiritual,
The unveiling of the hidden.
The knowledge of the lesser-known,
The trailing tendrils of the night,
The understanding of silence,
The awareness of the unspoken.
April 17, 2025.
The treasures lie within the ancient divine words,
Often encumbered by perplexities and complexities.
Sometimes we fail to recognize this trove,
Overlooking its pricelessness.
The treasures are found in the hymns and songs,
Composed by the inspired.
At times we sing, focusing only on the surface,
Neglecting to delve into the depths of their brilliance.
The majesty of His presence heralds these treasures,
Yet we often overlook their essence.
We may not consider it necessary to strive for it,
But His treasures are revealed in our close walk with Him.
The jewel of Jesus shines through the stygian night,
Its light pierces through layers of deep darkness.
This jewel is a timeless mystery,
An ever-luminous treasure.
The jewel of Jesus is the quest of those seeking its hidden light.
They search deeply in the silence of their hearts,
Listening and being guided to the jewel.
Knowing Jesus is the doorway to His jewel,
Trusting Him leads us along the path to its trove.
Tenacity and resilience bring us to its chamber,
And redemption teaches us that no other jewel is worthy of our pursuit.
April 12, 2025.
Ahead of us is a road,
Stretched by time into days untold,
Unseen by the eyes but seen by the heart,
A. path that brings forth goodwill.
Awakened by dawn,
We desire to journey on a road,
A road that leads to a tranquil time,
A gentle reminder tells us to look beyond the clouds.
Complexities and perplexities have wearied us,
We haven’t been lovingly embraced by the night,
Strangers share our space,
They come to our abode.
Our hearts seek the road to peace,
We’re afraid our little ones might become accustomed to turbulence and indifference,
When beyond their walls peace is a vast blooming field,
A sojourn through is a vitality elixir.
February 20, 2025.
"We have been here a thousand times before
Memory erased, each time we begin anew
Of hands held tenderly, we’ve lost the score
Each embrace virgin like fresh morning dew
To which image, oh dear soul, should we cling
For each heart was at some point of time dear
As we flow through life with zest, zeal and zing
In all forms we see God’s presence appear”
- Unseeking Seeker
Even though we’ve been here a thousand times before,
Someone is the Keeper of the store,
Though sometimes we’re saddled with life’s perplexities,
Difficult to ponder deeply amidst complexities.
Have you ever fought hard to keep your focus?
It’s like you see your mind on an unexplainable race course,
You wonder what flows with the time,
What summons an eerie clime?
The soul is always asking questions,
Wanting to know if some things are sculpted intentions,
It seeks a higher power,
Someone to hold its hand on an ivory tower.
To which image should we cling,
To whom should our hearts in dawn sing,
If not the One who holds bliss' key,
God is in everything we see.
April 28, 2024.
“Sanctuary is a place where serenity resides. Peace awaits to embrace.”
-Quote by poet
With my troubled mind,
Desiring peace to find,
I go to the hallowed place,
Where tranquillity pervades its space.
Distressed souls have walked through its door,
Perplexities and complexities they bore,
Longing to ease the weight,
They have embraced its gate.
Within its walls, I search for light,
A pathway through my night,
Bloom to the shrivelled meadow,
Rescue from the gnawing shadow.
Our nation - at a crossroads now
With intersecting planes
Of concepts much at odds somehow -
Exacerbating strains.
The Democrats perplexities:
A "Heart without a Head"
Explains irrationalities -
(Dysfunction - simply said).
Republican proclivities:
A "Head without a Heart"
Explains their personalities -
(Flatlines on MDs charts).
Both play the same devout "blame game"
With terse polemics wrought
As zealots on both sides proclaim
Their hyperbolic thoughts.
They come and go yet most remain,
Though times change in due course,
And seem to think it's their domain -
Their livelihood resource.
And, money flows and money goes
Awash in large amounts
But how, from where, no accounts show;
Just smoke and mirrors doubts.
With most seats safely in the till
Few voters needs to heed,
Instead exert, exhort their will
On things inflating greed.
Then, how do we comport with this
Vast wasteland so immense?
We wax and wane and turn and twist -
It's our experience.
The world is a cesspool of complexities,
We are caught in a web of perplexities,
The deeper we search for explanations,
The more akin we are to contemplations.
Life is a bed of anxieties.
The closer we are to the light,
The more opposition we have to fight,
Life's tempest is not an illusion,
Though opulence fronts the conclusion,
We push through life's sea with every might.
No sage has seen the end of the book,
No matter how further they look,
We go into each day with unrelenting hope,
Taking watchful steps along each slope,
No one is perfectly skilled at throwing the hook.
February 24, 2023.
Forgotten memories of childhood resurrect,
Layers of colorful events get, together, decked.
Adamant screaming continues till I got them,
They burst, oft, midway though each seemed a precious gem...!
Did I know, then, the meaning of these chic child charms?
Loss of innocence, and their tint tentative norms!
Their feebleness, tragedy of timeless transience,
Spread within the sky of heart gloomy ambiance...?
Though they gave me a feeling of freedom and joy,
Did they teach me the loss of innocence and coy?
Did I know the signs of their various colors?
Did anything except pleasure fill me, alors...?
I love you, balloons, at this my late fifties too,
Midst every moment of my happiness and woe;
Betwixt junctures of perplexities, and sorrows,
Your rainbow prism smiles promise pleasant tomorrows...!!!
Each balloon overblown breaks I have known by now,
Can even vendors save them from bursting, somehow;
Doesn't this fact speak volumes about human life?
Doesn't it, breath blown once, undergo endless strife...?
18 February 2023
Balloons Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
I'm awake to a blank slate,
I don’t determine all that's written on it,
Dawn doesn’t give an empty plate,
I create my ambience in its heat.
I try to make my slate blank,
Dawn's imprints are adamant,
Like a willful tyrant,
It's my mechanism’s crank.
I'm chauffeured by dawn,
I walk on its highway,
It's a mileage I'd rather not run,
I'm simply a mortal clay.
I come to the world as a blank slate,
I'm inscribed on walking through dawn's gate,
I become saddled with life’s perplexities,
I push through complexities.
We're created blank,
We sojourn listening to guiding voices,
We see, learn and make our choices,
Pressing on until the last rank.
February 4, 2023.
Blank Slate,
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest,
Edward Ibe.
It can't be known in its totality,
It seems to metamorphose and shapeshift,
It emphasizes human brevity,
It ushers the new dawn and builds a rift.
All that it brings to us we seek answers,
We are surrounded by perplexities,
Complexities stand erect like towers,
Observances are mere formalities.
The mind is the target and the bull’s eye,
We all tread the path of vicissitudes,
We wrestle, pray, meditate and push high
Life’s depictions are only platitudes.
Its entirety is hidden far beneath,
We go on a search but meet a brick wall,
Our hands can’t reach for all that lie underneath,
We see clearer and learn from every fall.
July 22, 2022.
It's All About Three Q's Poetry Contest,
Constance La France,
Life.
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