I’ve need to know
This side of fair
If I’ve been so,
With whom
I’ve shared,
Varied aspects
Of a life dared…
Imperfect choices
With answers few,
Wants judge fair
Existent struggles,
Eliciting despair…
I want to know
Without proviso
For weighing so,
Accountability
I’ve sided just,
And beyond shades
Of laudable dust
For honourable place,
This side of fair!
Reasons,
Simple to find
Easy to give,
Reasons of why
So few live,
For be but excuses
Not worth their uses,
As most rate less
Than gossamer ruses,
And far too many
Neath tenable any,
Be worthy of reason
Save want vindicate
Timorous misoneism,
Held beyond reason!
In a vicious sky
I persist to fly,
In spite such rain
Has wind feel strain,
And clouds
Hang on a string,
Fixed to a heaven
Of Beelzebub’s reign,
Though but a dream
Of eerie things,
I’ve want to find
But simple words
Held be accessible,
Though at times
May fail to rate
Idea of equitable,
To compose state
Complex in thought,
That fosters lend
Worth contemplate,
Cause means intend
Reason perceived
Despite a mindful bend,
Bar should frustrate,
Appeal to intellectuality!
If you should look
Beneath the surface,
You’ll see likeness
Didst hardly fade,
Despite time past
Held so its shade,
Though failed spare
Held masquerade,
Altering whole
The sum’s façade,
While signs of ware,
Offers but a shadow
Of my enduring soul!
An empty space,
Across a table
Where time ago
A chair left bare,
Yet so reflects
A face he loved,
Remains aglow,
Upon a glass
Of pale rosé…
Each forlorn day
In vain he stares,
With musing’s play,
One can near feel
Her presence there,
His mind will trace
Upon the empty chair,
Memory of her face
That will not part
That special space,
Fixed in his heart…
Alas the man
Said of two glasses,
Sits so to face
That empty space
As time so passes,
But for a moment dwells,
On memory only he can tell!
Of a prancer,
Held the devil
Playing dancer,
On the floor
Upstairs,
Came from hell
Just to frolic,
In a manner
Casts a spell,
Her intention
Guised to prance
Impishly carefree,
Issues to imbue
In a rhythm
Off the wall,
That conforms
To a voodoo
In an eerie storm,
She infernally performs
On the floor upstairs!
In timeless settings,
In their reflection,
By spirits fashioned
Of unworldly landscapes…
There I detect
A man, tho but a spec,
Reflects in decline
A wary face
That could be mine…
As I look o’er
Thru delusory panes,
I can now see
That empty face,
Of wanting features
Be man’s reflection,
All but erased!
Knowing sadness
Lies in wait,
Need we limit
Our exuberances,
Hence exceeded
Must it follow
We suffer culpability!
As I grow young
The while I age,
My body older
Does engage,
The time it takes
To be the sum
I mean achieve
Unloading vain,
As clearer sense
I attain,
Tho fractioned be
To some extent
It does explain,
Old borders suffer
One’s being bolder,
Than growing old
The while young!
Poetry on a Canapé 