My Dear friend,
Time passes and I sometimes cry,
One by one my friends seem to die
Let me at least take the lead this time
I don’t mind, I know the journey will be fine.

But my friend let’s wait a while before I go
There are many things I wish to know
All these years we have known each other
I have loved you so, like one of my Brothers.

It is not of you I need to know, but your Sister
Did you know that I always loved her so?
Time again reared its nasty head.
We separated, sometimes I wanted to be dead.

Life begins from the seed
once planted
emerges as a flower
lives like a rose for ever
then merges in library books
in pages
as times memory
who was he//she!

''We never think of our departure too!'' -----some one said this

No this is wrong
we all nearing the cemetery
think of it
knowing fully,
well the time has come
but we,
most of us wonder
about those who we leave behind

somewhere a child was crying
elsewhere the parent was listening

tiny tears wailed "what i did wrong
to find myself in caged walls?"

when flesh and blood is torn to pieces
it is hard to mend the broken fences

is stealing innocence not a crime
by "zero tolerance" touting minds?

is not caging of birds in flight
stealing them of migration right?

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18th June, International Migrants Day
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Somewhere in the depth of time
in the mix of past and present,
there is a green door.

For some
it stays ajar.
Enticing light is effervescent.

For others
it is shut and gone.

Because it was ignored once,
it is not there anymore
and tantalizing chase to find
another chance
takes over all the hopes.

Oh, how I would want

Female ambition
as voter card Caucasian
but no confusion

Ending human rights
due to members supposed slights
Moral leading lights?

Lobby alignment
Political sentiment
Inducing payment

Enemies to shun
Aiding future election
Presidential run

I once had wings that soared on winds up high
Above the trees and gravity bound feet;
And intimate my soul embraced the sky
To feel the kiss of love where freedom’s sweet.

I moved and soared, on gentleness of air,
A heart that worshiped beauty as its art;
To know of substance, and in knowing share,
And be as one with rhythms of the heart.

Fireflies are the stars
Of the troposphere

And although they appear
And disappear

They are fixed
In our hearts

Provide the same
Glimmer of hope

Something that we can
Wish upon
On summer nights

We use them to navigate
In our own way

Sail or fly
To destinations
Near and far

In our dreams
After the day is done

These flickering candles
These warm bugs
In our backyards

Through these years I've become weary
as ever upward wound my trail
until at last my sight and eyes are bleary
and my tiring muscles fail.

But I have this final hill to top
so I slowly stumble on
knowing that I dare not stop
striving toward the place I'm drawn.

I know that before very long
my feet will get me to the summit,
to that place where my soul belongs.
I can almost now envision it.

under thunderstorms and candle light
we wait, a whimpering dog and me,
listening to old wartime broadcasts through
the infernal static of an
ancient battery powered radio

( this is where it gets eerie)

It begins to feel like 1942

I start listening intently
trying to catch every nuance
wondering how our guys are doing
hoping for some good news
twitching in anticipation

I was hearing a story I already knew
but was still anxious about how it would end

funny how that is, getting so involved

We are products of our forebears nurture
Bearers of our traditional culture
Not confined by a religious stricture
But our volition and basic nature

Not affected by amoral censure
Nor by special interest conjecture
Deflating any attempts to puncture
Our composure with our victory sure