I picked a white frame and I set it down
I picked a grey frame and I set it down
I picked a black frame and I set it down
 
I look'd from shelf to shelf
I look'd from store to store
To look for the perfect frame
For a perfect image
 
An image of happy times
An image from my wild adventures
An image -
A sliver of my memories
A moment frozen in time.
 
Is it right to spend so much time,
Effort, emotions and hope
On something that has come to past, 
Or should I just relish the present and
Find instead that this moment is perfect too?

To choose a frame,
Is it right?
Is it wrong?
Is it black?
Is it grey?
Is it white?

I picked a ________ frame and I set it down
On my bedside table
To remind myself each time I wake
My own happiness is mine to make.
 

2009

The deafening roar of the hair dryer...
I stopped it!
Why don't I let my hair dry by itself?
Why do I hasten a process
That is meant to take its own time?
Do I not fear split ends?
Perhaps I should just let my wet hair dry
Naturally.
 
The deafening roar of my sobbing heart...
I stopped it!
Why don't I let my eye dry by itself?
Why do I hasten a process
That is meant to take its own time?
Do I not fear split ends?
Perhaps I should just let my wet eyes dry
Naturally.

2009

Like a skilled mariner the child negotiated the aisles
Weaving through the trolley traffic
Effortlessly.
 
His hands reached for the glistening thing
Like a beacon of hope -
The air tight jar.
 
The magic my child is in the lid,
Once pressed down
Nothing can escape.
 
So tried as he might
As with a vessel's hatch
To open
To close
To test the lid.
 
But the magic my child is in the lid.
Once used too often
Will lose its grip.
 
So play not my child
Too often with the lid
As it will finally let out
In a final gasp
To mourn in a single way,
The end of its useful days.
 
 

2009

I hold your hands to tell you what I feel
About our lives and all that’s yet to be.
In time I know that fate will turn its wheel
And naught will stay the same for you and me.

But time itself will not delay or slow
The will we have to change and learn to cope.
For us, we need to empathize and know,
With patience, love will grow in depth and scope.

On trust and care we build our path of love.
In winter’s snow and summer’s warm embrace,
Forward, onward with steel reserve we move
Toward our goal, in nature’s ticking pace.
 
Perhaps our feet may drift somewhat apart,
But hand in hand we share a common heart.
 

2009

For three and eighty days have come to pass,
Alas the time has yet to dull my pain.
Beyond the lense inside the looking glass,
I peer into our future, but in vain.

In summer’s sun you once told me to rise
Above my gloom and learn to live my life.
At autumn’s end you still have me surprised
By your undying tears and hurt, still rife.

What floats for me to keep my head above
The drowning sense of sadness and remorse
That drains with every tear of ache and love
You shed for him. You left me no recourse.

I long to smile and shake the grasp of glum.
Help me, cheer up and rise up from the slum.
 

October 13 2009

Surf, Surf, Surf
Came the wind on a summer's night.
It echoed through my brain
Where all my tears refrain.
And soon dawn shall come
Taking along with it,
All sadness, remorse
And weariness that shall dissolve
In the dew left behind.
 
Hush, Hush, Hush
Rustled the leaves on a summer's night.
Hush was all that I was told
Never a word to speak too bold.
To serve is my duty,
To serve is also my rights.
Where is the so called liberty
It's nowhere in sight.
 
Mop, Mop, Mop
The floor did I each summer's day.
Mopping away the trickles of tears,
The traces of fear.
No motivation to live
Nor any love received.
Only hope can lend its hand
To help me, a lonely deprived man.
 
1990
 

Gargon dwells in Archenland,
Point three five from hell it stands.
The Gargon with no head nor hand,
No pain nor love, not flesh nor sand;
Not god nor angel, Not saint! Not man!
His burning evil, the earth it stained.
Bringing sadness, brining pain.
No mortal soul could find a way
To drive this abomination away.

 Across the long benches
A few pieces of bones lay on the table
Flapping and descending came the dwellers of the sky
Half starved, half tired
On the bones they feasted.
So they rested in this birds’ paradise
 
Across the old building
An old solitary shadow approached
Ragged and tattered it limped towards the dwellers of the sky
All starved, all tired.
His bones they feasted.
So he rested in this birds’ paradise
 
Across the grey dark sky
A mountain of clouds descended
Roaring and flashing as it came to the dwellers of the sky
All washed, all drenched
So it rested in this birds’ paradise
 
Across the flooded shack
A few pieces of bones floated with the tables
Flapping and struggling in the waters were the dwellers of the sky
Half drowned, half alive
So ended the days of the birds’ paradise.
 
1990

Feathery clouds tinted with gold
Floating in a sky of misty cold.
The scene is old,
A framed picture unfolds
The secret of an aging golden sun
Against brightness,
Silhouettes stand
Preceding the moon-lit land.
 
1986
 

The blushing Hibiscus turned away shyly
As the wind embraces her from behind.
The redolence of the dew on her dispersed -
Across the moor, Alice was attracted by the sweet scent.
As she drew nearer the soft thuds made by her steps
Renascenced with the incessant beating
Of the wind against the frail flower.
She halted; The wind stopped;
She reached to pluck the flower;
A cold hand tapped her shoulder;
The flower fell and fumbled onto the ground;
She turned , she froze - she screamed.
Beside the track, the Hibiscus lay,
destroyed on the ground.
Beside the slowly withering flower
Alice outstretched her trembling hand,
Clenched her torn clothes in her fist
Sobbed - as she disappeared into the evening mist.

1990