Wandering Ways With Words

Seagulls!
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With consummate ease;
Master tars of the airwaves,
Glide into the breeze.

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The Young Ballerina!
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Graciously she danced,
Floating like an autumn leaf
Through the captive air.

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Face From The Forest
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Many moons have waxed and waned,
Salad days are long forgotten;
The imprint of that face remains,
As when it was at first begotten.

Traveling on an omnibus
That journeyed through thick forests green;
We passed through several villages,
From which few souls had ever been.

At one such enclave he embarked,
His manner radiating fear;
The incongruity was stark,
He took his seat with no one near.

It was his face that most entranced,
His eyes like egg-whites in black mask;
A transfixed stare, no sideways glance,
Avoiding impact was no mean task.

His visage did not fear impose,
It was a window to his own,
His wild, bewildered look disclosed,
An abject lostness in the unknown.

Could what we saw in forlorn face
Be what we most dread in ourselves;
That we might ever be displaced,
Of all living contact be bereft?

As haunting image lingers on,
Our thoughts survey our comfort zone,
Where what we have is well-worth done,
Here we can never be alone.

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No Time!

No time to reflect;
No time to sit in wonder;
No time to pen thoughts!

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Possibility?
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Mutual respect;
The key to Live and Let Live,
Merely a pipe dream?

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Another Goodnight!
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Sounds of the night,
Filter through the darkness
Closing in on me;
Ample space and time
In the hours that lay ahead,
For all of them, to fill.

Strangely unknown murmurs,
Hanging on the airwaves,
Drift in from nearby;
Intermittent squeaks,
Creaks along the corridor,
Companions of the night.

Thoughts go gallivanting,
Exploring the unusual,
Dredging up the weird;
Minutes turn to hours,
Orpheus stays away,
Thus, to the break of day!

Beckoned by the sunlight,
Rising rheumy-eyed,
The tired soul emerges;
Tasks need be performed,
Life needs to be lived,
Pendulum must swing!

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The Muse!
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She's to be courted,
Her visitation unforced;
Wait for her advent!
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Should have....

Should have done this long ago,
Begin to write just what I think;
Regardless of what others thought,
Submit benignly to the Muse.

Should have done this long ago,
Articulate the way I feel
Instead of looking o’er my shoulder,
To see, whether ‘I may’ or ‘may not’.

Should have done this long ago,
Release the shackled urge within;
Untamed fields of thought to roam,
Luscious pleasures there to find.

Should have done this long ago,
Not rely on nods and winks,
They obligate a quid pro quo,
Like birds restricted to the cage!

Should have done this long ago,
Flee the ties of timid past,
Not to seek what is not there,
Boldly reach for what there is.

Should have done this long ago,
Savour the thrills of sheer delight,
When unleashed spirit soars aloft,
Riding the waves of boundless bliss.

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Goodnight!

Sounds of the night,
Filter through the darkness;
Closing in on me!

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Bread! (1)
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Often so mindlessly discarded,
It is,
For millions,
The staff of Life;
Content!

Lack brings untold suffering,
Denial of which,
By many,
An affront to Life;
Discontent!

Pot-bellied roadside urchin,
Tired, yearning eyes,
Crossed grubby hands,
The heart bleeds tears.
Shame!

But for Fortune’s favour,
Selfless sharing,
Gracious giving,
That, could be me!
Sadness!

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