The cowlick tongue, afire, affeared The dragon sheds its gown of shame This lake of fire, it smoulders red A prize for thwarted dreams inflamed The tongue it flicks across these shores The belt and road, now bully's gall Indignant protests all ignored Incursion curses neighbours all In gaped amazement nations grieve Audacious claim encinders trust The strong shall seize what they can seize The weak shall suffer what they must.
On Incantations
Each poem is incantation true: a plaintive cry in darkest night a squeal of boundless sheer delight a prayer for fragile tender hopes a spell to cast love's binding ropes And so I now, in faith, incant: These poems I write with dread aflame Such dreams I dare not even name A pledge to prove amidst all strife These verses mark undaunted Life.
On this Morning without Monkey
The morning feels so desolate
No charming meow to meet
No loving purr of tortitude
No furry paw to greet
This morning makes the first of morns
of many more in store
For now it's just the two of us
No Monkey, ever more.
On These Few Things
Elton John
Backgammon
Logic puzzles
Demis Roussos
These are the few things I remember
from those days long ago
when you were still trying to be my father.
On Plucking the Bitter Fruit
They asked me to describe
what it is that
I am feeling right now:
The disappointment of a son
and the alienation of a man
the bitterness of hopes
and the sweetness of vindication
the smallness of petty disagreements
and the enormity of loss
even if it is just the losing of you
I buried you yesterday
and I accepted your mantle
but I refuse this myth-making
this farce of false memories
You left us yesterday
but I left you long ago.
On Winning
I came home and
opened the door
It was early morning
and my cat meowed
welcoming me home
I stooped down to pet her
with tears in my eyes, saying
“You won, Monkey. You won.”
On Icebergs
Everyone you meet today
is an iceberg:
what you see is what is
above the surface,
but underneath the waves is
a universe of hidden things:
Love and
Pain and
Joy and
Lust and
Hurt and
everything else that makes you and I
Real.
On My Undivided Time
All I can give you
is my undivided time,
here and now,
to listen to
what you have to say.
To sympathise,
to commiserate,
to suggest,
to advise.
There is not much else
that I can give,
or would want to give.
This is it.
Take it as it is.
On a Majestic Unfolding
The sky was a dark hue of
Vermilion and pink and purple and
It took my breath away to
Know that just outside my balcony tonight is
His Majesty unfolding like
A banner of blessings.
On Days Unending
These days I tread in silence
In patient reverie
With faith in His Munificence
I spend each day with thee
These days I do remember
And softly meditate
On past travails and thunder -
Reflections inundate!
These days I wait and wonder
If ever future holds
Or if perhaps t’was never
My fortune to behold
These days I pass in silence
I wait resignedly
For Him to pass my sentence
My fate, eternal be!