‘Tis said of life
With death
Walks hand in hand,
Yet to this end
A constant threat
Commands,
Such be held fears
Tho shan’t have say
Wouldst linger near
Till life’s expiry date,
Hence ye meant find
In that ensuing place
Said peace of mind,
Held too soon there,
Might we alas discover,
The wonders of life’s fare
The while we be alive!
Why do they call me friend…
What is their cause
Or purpose
To judge me worthy,
That they should levy
Such expression of regard,
Entrust this much
Responsibility
To be bestowed
Upon my person,
Thus be asked to manage
With this impressive status…
And to this title friend,
A singular entitlement,
Who possesses
Such impartiality
Could deem me deserving,
Or capable indeed
To discharge such obligation,
Required and implied
When one is given title,
That of being called friend…
Why do they call me friend!
Idiosyncrasy
Not anomalously
Systematic,
Or necessarily
Problematic …
But it takes time
For that peculiarity
To invade the mind,
From borderline
Introversive
To thus inclined
Impulsively,
As to acquiescence
Idiosyncraticly…
Save tendencies
For naive liberty
As in freedom
Of behavior,
Said thought bizarre
Be fit conjecture
And arguably realm
Of eclectic expression,
An autonomous
Of employment
As a candid thinker,
Tho aberrant person
Of maverick proclivity,
Be choice advocate
For idiosyncrasy!
Considered lost
You mourn
A once held friend,
Thus overwhelmed
Until one’s musing,
Probes to what end
Be worth the mend,
For a dubious cause,
As one can’t loose
What never was,
A once held friend!
Time played us so
Like carefree pueriles,
As though forever
Made live the while
In dreamy rainbows,
When of a sudden
It cast adrift
Our childhood days
To find our way
Far from our sandbox…
Now adult visions
Edge to fashion
Unknown choices,
That once found
Too soon wore thin,
And held best toss
As remote whims
Of wearisome sins…
Yet a period plagues
With insipid wishes
And oneirism’s ease,
Of undying rainbows
In sandbox dwellings!
In early morning
I awake,
To re-ignite life,
The while minutes
It need take
I watch
The seconds fly,
Not from the sky
But on a clock
As they tick bye,
Until the noise
Of an electronic box
Disturbs my peace,
With its robotic voice,
As it blurts out
Daybreak,
In a moronic spout
Of nonsense bent,
And cackle overload
Infers be edifying meant,
But in a mode
So non-repent,
One wants to de-ignite
Ne’er to hear again
Early morning daybreak,
And so I say a pox
On the short or long wave box!
Ah yesterday,
You’re there
Once more
Too soon,
Before the day
Has barely gone,
The while I want
For just a bit
To carry on,
Before day’s end,
Tho I should fuss
To turn the clock
It pays no mind
My want expend,
That I might find
How best to give,
A full share’s worth,
Of I’ve to live
And well before
I’m made to taste,
Another yesterday!
I watch beguiled
The body move
At mesmeric pace,
I marvel
At the beauty
Of her grace,
A striking figure
Neath satin skin
Of golden colour,
Its sensual muscles
Rippling so within,
Taut and glistening
As her body bursts
In undulant dance,
That elongates
And counteracts
To articulate,
A composition
That speaks of life,
Yet needs no words
To tell its story…
Hence as she soars
Like a bird of Jove
Does so express,
The alluring motility
Of a body in motion!
That first breath
Of amity,
Gives on occasion
A propitious sense
Suggesting a state
Of enduring depth,
That thus infers
Its ensuing leads
To lasting friendship
Of affability,
And resilient so
As to bathe lifelong
In honest reserve…
Save said breath
Be given voice
Of jaundice choice,
How then inflicted
Might one deny
Its rootless stand,
Germinated so
In dubious ethics,
Ne’er more to be
Than a gasp
Of shallow purpose,
Thus to express
A state of amity
That belies no less,
Once upon a friend
Did but forever live,
In a self serving façade!
Poetry on a Canapé 