I Hide

Truth is,
This place I own,
It’s dark in here, awfully cold
The fire rests, hides,
Grieves in the embers of coal,
I want nothing, it says,
Having burnt for so long,
In exile I live, where I belong,
His journey was long, arduous...
The place where he set me free,
Is not far from here,
The whole town had to burn,
Before I could reach home,
It burns still, charred, razed to the ground,
I don’t like showing my face, anymore,
So,I hide in this dark place I own.

Love is a bastard...

Doubts creep and make their home,
The place where once love was,
They arrange themselves,
And sit down to chat,
Isn’t she thick in the head,
To wait for the tide to turn,
Is the most foolish thing they ever heard,
What she holds dear,
Is really a handful of sand,
Soothing at night,
In the day it burns her hand,
Faith can never court her,
Fate saw to that,
Love is a bastard,
Hurt, the ladies man,
Feelings, the whore who’s never too sure,
Is it love or hurt,
That pleases her most!

Goodness Defeats Me...

Goodness defeats me,
Its true then, God is omnipresent,
He cleans my car,
Waters my plants,
Smiles at me when I can’t laugh
Sells vegetables, haggles and cheats,
Just like me He worries too much,
Hungers for food and pines for love,
I see him every day,
In the men and women who brush past,
Family, friends, total strangers,
Of clay yet not of clay,
Unaware they are radiant as the golden Sun,
Good could only have been derived from God,
Just like man was made in the creators image...

Will You not Take Me With You?

Will you not take me with you,
When you leave,
Said the little girl to her father,
Do they laugh in heaven,
Can they kiss or cry,
A man can surely,
Come visit his family,
Once in a while,
Can I write to you,
If I miss you,
And that I will
The proud nose turned red,
From shame,
He had taken the easy way out,
The body was dying, the spirit lived,
The funeral was not until tomorrow,
They whispered.

Life and Times of a Feather...

The grand life of a feather,
Purposeless,
Effortless,
Run after by the butterflies,
Caressed by the wind,
Held close to a soft cheek
A book mark tossed between ink,
An impulsive gift from a young lover,
Unknown, invisible gathering dust on a tree,
The mischievous feather If I could be,
I would ride with the wind,
And elude the huntress, destiny.

The River of Sadness

For years there was no sound,
Not even a sigh,
Like a river it kept flowing,
Sadness,
The fields grew green,
Cows ate grass,
Sun shone on the golden crop,
Yet, there was no sound,
It wept silently for the lost spark,
Faces blurred and drowned in the river,
Dead leaves floated,
And yet no sound,
The soul had been drying,
Far too long...