Short Whereon Poems

My life is a colorful scene
Full of thorns and  stones
As a tenant, i dwell in this tent
Waiting for this body to disintegrate
Waiting for this hut to fall in frailty
Upon the earth
Whereon shall my soul stand before The Man....

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Through all seasons, hail or snow
In a life full of rust and rainbow
Our soulful lamps dimly glow
Thy heart's loving rivers flow
Streaming upon my bosom slow
Together our boat we gently row
Unto knocks death, hard and low
Whereon I break from thou, my Romeo
And bid a cherished farewell bow
For ends my role in life's earnest show!...

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Look into my mind.
I am the master of fantasy;
King of the isle of imagination,
Lord of the land of counterpane
Whereon I arrange the pieces of my life.
You are long gone, speaking no more, yet haunt me,
As some phantom lingers in his house of death,
Blindly walking rooms and corridors seeking,
Seeking lost life and love, and imagining,
Imagining that moment when you 
Contact me again, the spell of
Silence broken. And my
Foolish mind builds
Castles of hope....

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You twist and wind uphill, 
Defeating common logic 
That informs ordinary will, 
Quashing layman's magic. 

Your miles can't mundane 
Tools measure with ease, 
Nor trifling men's suremises
Feign to fathom with peace. 

Anfractuous is your course 
Along travail's painful main, 
Past warmths of kith or kin, 
Beyond love's kiss and pain.

Up this odd adventurous tor
Shall my days curl their way, 
Charting eerie paths via war, 
Whereon saints tearful tread....

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Rain made no apologies to sun
as it satiated a whetted appetite,
opined it was the right of nature
unconditionally given dispensation
by Mother Earth's nurturing favor
of life-giving creative indulgences,
whereon flower's blooming accolades
truly know the opulence of its essence,
whilst aroused poet's inspired reveries
ever shine 'neath abundant cloudbursts


 Anyone who thinks that sunshine is pure happiness,
 has never danced in the rain. -- unknown...

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