Living alone in Florida
who will know
the intrinsic worth
of what you have or owned

gift them all to the neighbors
a museum maybe
or to an elderly home
who may be more needy...

alas of what use else
except your poetry
bequeath it all to me
for sake of posterity,

we shall our publication print
and
the links of bondage will never sink,
they will be left in indelible ink

I will take you,
where you should be.
Enclosed and safe,
but also free.

Where as a youth,
I spent many an hour.
The songs of the birds,
the show of flowers.

Turn to the right,
there see the path.
Brush aside the sight,
of those blue skies.

Walk within my trees,
they hold no airs
Feel them close,
around your cares.

Leaving your thoughts,
so far behind.
Ahead is the glade,
I know locked in time.

Let me be, be me
not like an icing on a cake
to entice then be devoured
like a whore

Let me be, be me
to dance and be penetrated
by a thousand pin pricks
making me moan like thunder
in an orgasmic surrender

Let me be, be me
and get drenched to my soul
in the delightful outpouring
when rivulets rush down my thighs
awakening my nerve buds
with goose bumps
and in this orgy
I dance to the calypso
of rain drops

REMNANTS

And where did they go
the people I used to know.
The '' other side”has no meaning
to me.
They are lost in some darkness
that blinds my sight
as though all they were
are the things they left behind.

I can see you
in my peripheral,
hands move
with steady ease
completing their tasks,
your body moves
like a sturdy breeze
making its way
from there, to,
I don’t know where.

And another piece
of my substance,
drains away...

This is getting nowhere
my mind is still a blank
don't know what to write yet
I'm stuck!
what's the word that's right now?
how do I describe IT?
complications due to limitations
brings forth tension

I cried out in frustration
staring at the screen like a fool
Need to break away for awhile
so I stand before the mirror
and make funny faces
laughing at myself.
Poor me, I can't be
as good as Rula, Mand, Raj and Ian

It's a good thing
that there exist
so many people who Do things

Not just sit and talk about
the how and where and worth of deeds
not just record the dull facts
or reckon their costs

Yet there are also
dreamers
who tell what Could be
Should be
in a memorable manner
called poetry

Beauty is not an endeavor for you,
Because you were created in nature;
A natural beauty of a garden for two,
Breath blown into you by the Creator.

Woman-
It was you…

So there I dreamed in all my seclusion,
As I anticipated the day of us meeting;
A prayer was answered against destitution,
A rib extracted while I was still sleeping.

Woman-
It was you…

As I ensconce amongst the rubble
Matured leaves scattered about me
The appeasing roar of passing cars brings solace
I sense a chill, but this is nothing new
Paralysed ice inhabits my chest, weighing me down
Aching as though to personify pain
The glacier has already turned the liquid substance rushing through my veins from red to blue
The youthful warmth; erased
So let the wind blow from East, West
For this is nothing new, nothing new to my chest

Reflection

The sprites fled the goblins stayed
Was this the winter of my days?
Or just the thought that had gone astray
To haunt me now in these later ways

Did I do all things that were true?
Could I have hurt one such as you?
I feel that in my journey through
there was something better I could do

There I hope that in all my days
That all the bad things in my ways
Would not be shown to other beings
But kept deep inside with other feelings