Life has me walk
This reach alone,
To suffer gauge
My weary bones,
With body’s age
I now but trip,
Upon this road
Lacking the fit,
Youth so defined
Tells be the image
Of ebbing time,
With faint recall
Can now but pine,
For home of old
When we explored,
First living bold
Did create lore,
Worth being told
Sufficient to entreat,
What equates hope
Though incomplete,
We’d learnt to cope
Life’s fickle sweeps…
I walk alone
In faded colours,
Upon this road
Of no return,
Held be my destined keep!
I’ve sought living
Years moreover,
As man’s dream
Be time wanting,
Leaves me plead
Ne’er be enough,
Though I concede
Years so far lived,
Holds clearly best
Be time life gave,
Save so ascribed
A morose grave,
As destined site
Fixed be man’s fate,
Thus beg stall plight
For score or more,
Before the dark,
Becomes eternal night!
ode to friend Basile, now in eternal night…
The while I live,
Teach me how
To do without,
If life dictates
Blind be my fate,
Ne’er to see you
One more time…
Teach me how
To do without,
If destined so
To suffer deaf
And cannot hear
Tho you be near…
Teach me now
To do without,
Afore I reach
State of forget,
Thus to endure
Held grieved regret,
Thru precious days
I might live yet
So teach me how,
I am to do without!
When it be time,
I was to find
To reach a place
Alleged babyhood,
Held gentle space
Said pre childhood,
Where puerile stood
To enter meant hood,
Hence soon to face,
Adulthood first embrace …
Alas these hoods end
For an ensuing bend,
Means take effect,
Be wise elder hood,
Where chance detects
Hoped sprightly mind,
Whose wit allows time
Bear last hood’s oblige,
Thus meant organize
For predictable slide,
To that grave final hood!
A fleeting gift
While unaware,
The innocent
Evolves impaired,
As impotence
Offers till then,
Brief liberty
One lives in bliss
Of ignorance,
To adolescence
When time states,
Life’s baggage
So accumulates,
Thus having felt
The telling kiss
Of omnipotence,
Obliterates recalls
Of innocence,
Made destined to be lost!
The death of youth
Be not easy
To grasp as truth,
Destined must
Be so replaced,
Rendering thus
An altered state,
Though dispiriting
As youth’s fate,
Means be alive
If not beyond,
Ineluctable demise…
Hence youth’s adjust
To deal with age
Be hardly just,
Made so compose
With dwindling days,
When point but reached
Life’s ordained way,
Be yet blurred concern,
To grasp the death of youth!
Poetry on a canapé 