Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

Now the New Year opens a new page for all:

My soul sounds and no more can in gloom dwell:

“Where He that was, He that is and will be”

If so be let Hope fill my barrel full.


A Prosperous New Year for all,


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Why do I love Okra?

It is mucous and sticks in my craw

To tell the truth. 

Why do I still eat it sautéed?

I ate my first helping 

While on my mother’s lap,

I cried all my four years’ worth

But thought I never had it so 

Good fed by my mother.

Past my prime I still eat

Okra that sticks in my craw-

For it is not mucous but a lump

Of memory and it fights for

Another helping.


*Okra-vegetable,ladies finger,


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The tree of life has stars all lit for leaves

And below sends bitter roots through abyss:

Seek not where your sweetness begins or ends,

Your sentient life, and not the tree, lies.”



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My heart is but one stop from rest:

My hand has come all but strap

I hold on life as tenuous as vine

Breathing feeling and being

The motion, the congealed breath

Of straggling band their hand

Slung over straps I see

In the freaked out mirror of  living.

If I do get down I know not where

You ride along and it is no bother

For one dreamt death and lived life

I shall do well

Find my way home.


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Lightly we foot it where our peers left off

As seasons crowd out the smooth with the rough;

We descend through tunnel of time, for sleep

And how others make do with theirs: enough.


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OKquatrain borders



Who did on this narrow turf lay out stars,

And give it command to run its course?

Days scald me with despair and the night

Bind me to its post and curfew enforce.


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Under vault of heaven we make merry

Ev’n as seasons after their fashion hurry:

Surely as our peers we replaced in time

We must leave seats- for time will not tarry.



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The spirited spout by its very shape

Gives somewhat a hint that it holds within;

‘Peer not in confusion of mouth agape

Drink deep and learn of me,’ so says the urn.


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Who pedals the wheels of time to ov’rturn

Glory of man gone to rack and ruin?

The titles and honors he had amassed

Are laid a-heap left for the worms to scorn.


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Quatrain#11 Now Voyager


We are lost on this great sea of living

We seek no port or care where we’re heading:

Love, you and I as we make the landfall

Seek not the past nor what future will bring.((First ed.)


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