VERSE | FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD*

Listen to the poem being read here: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSdn6QjcC/?k=1

I pick it up, I feel its form 
I hold it in my hands, the warmth
Transfers slowly and I sense
The tingle of the words within

I gaze at the lines upon its face
I turn it over, my eyes trace
The tale it whispers all its own
Its beauty hidden, as yet unknown
The seeds of intrigue have been sown
It invites me in, in subtle tones
We follow, I and my intuition
On lightning wings, we race in!
Another stridently demands that I
Feel its spine from end to end
And then I oftentimes comply
As it tells its story by and by

I leave my existence behind
For a while I’m in another life
I go on voyages fraught with love
With pain, with humor with suspense
I journey on through these realms
Sometimes laughing sometimes tense
And then I will glance again
At the portal to the world I’m in
Pausing my trip-in words
The story wraps itself up, and I’m
Whisked back into the world
Where I’m dutifully marking time

I feel its form one last time
I leave it with a wistful smile
That Teller of a myriad tales
Waits until I visit it again
* Title inspiration from the novel by Thomas Hardy of the same name

VERSE | SEPIA STORMS

I hear the leaves rustle in the breeze
The gust picks up slowly, gradually
I hear the rattle of a window
The one that lies loosely in its frame
Like a watchful sentry
Announcing the entry
Of a wayward breeze
That rolls in through its screen
To knock upon the door
At the end of the corridor

I walk out of my bedroom into the lounge
The sentinel window
Is now trembling, recoiling
Rattling its pane
Warning of rain
That will soon moisten
Its face; gushing,
Rushing, tearing
The dust off old memories -
Renewing the pain

I see the first flash of lightning and then
The thunder breaks
The storm has arrived
I look at it through the window
Now lying quietly in its frame
Soon the glisten of its pane
Swells into a stream flowing
Down silently, as I sit quietly
With the sweet ache
Of old memories again

VERSE | KNIGHT SPIDER

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I saw a little spider today
Weaving itself a pathway;
In silken thread and zestful strides
It made its way up the side
Of the glass wall close to me
I kept watching it carefully
Partly because horror flicks
Have made me squirm around these arachnids
But mostly because of the enterprise
It put into its little life

It climbed halfway up the glass
And then a gust of wind alas!
Tore its thready ladder up
It swayed before going plop!
Right onto the table where
I sat with my coffee to stare
At this busy creature lift
Its body up bit by bit

I moved back in mild alarm
Not because I’d come to harm
That was not the thought I had
My arachnophobia got me to stand
It sat there a little concussed I think
Before it gathered up its wits
And off it went climbing again
Forming anew, repairing

With so much drama in its life
Buffeting winds, with predators rife
The spider stays focused on its goals
It weaves its web, mends broken holes.
We can learn a thing or eight
From this marvellous arachnid -
To go on even when we’ve gone plop!
To persevere, to climb back up
Folks, if little spidey can be
A superhero, so can we.

VERSE | THE QUEEN

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I see her sitting under the tree
Dignified and serene even as she is encircled
In the cumbersome arms of poverty.
Destitution has cloaked her for many years
From head to toe it has persevered. But still
There are nuances of grace and light;
Of a decorum that has bested the blight.

Sparse hair is pulled back into a little knot
Threadbare clothes are mended and clean
Calloused feet wear leather sandals
Thousands of steps etched into their seams.
She sits there solitary and separate
Her expression is one of learned abjection
As she labours on in her enterprise
To live another day, to go on, to survive.

But every so often, when there is a lull
In the cresting and falling human swell
Where she sits, under the leafy canopy
The wretchedness leaves her face
And in its place
Shines a serene and quiet majesty
A poise, a stateliness
Quietly they still linger in her being.
Even as she sits under the tree
To beseech, to plead, to request
I can still see the queen.

VERSE | I SEE

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Spring turns to autumn which moults 
Into winter. The winds blow cold
And the skies are a myriad shades
Of grey. The trees in their glades
Stand stark and naked. Their leaves
Now mottled, dying underneath
Trampling feet. Hurrying feet across
Paths well trodden and paths that are lost
In the gloom. Winter’s dirge
Fills the spaces in between to merge
With the Mist. She throws a blanket
On the quiet world. And then she touches
My cheek. I turn my face away and she spreads
Her arms. I’m enveloped from toes to head
From right hand to left. I stand still
And let her feel. She takes her fill
And then undoes her vapory hold. I finally see
The path stretching clear ahead of me.

VERSE | PERPETUAL (M)OCEAN

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There is a ship that’s out to sea
Her cargo is my dreams
When I feel them slipping away
She drops anchor close to me

There is a ship that’s voyaging on
She carries bushels of hope
When life throws curve balls one too many
She drops anchor somewhere close

There is a ship out in the swells
She carries stores of peace
When chaos threatens my inner calm
She glides in gracious and serene

There is a ship, she’s the harbinger
Of all that’s tender and true
When my day is sunless, hollow and sad
She sails in out of azure blues

That ship she is my spirit
My soul is in her sails
As she journeys through life’s fickle tides
She’s my alchemist within.

VERSE | MAYA

I am Laughter and I am Tears 
I am the apex of my most lucid Fears
I am Joy and I am Peace
I am all that the tranquil dove sees
I am Chaos, I am Discord
I am the Trodden, I am Master and Lord
I am Winter and I am Spring
I wither, I fade and I waken again
I am Rage and I am Love
I’m the depths of the ocean, I am the heavens above
I am the Devil and I am the Saint
I’m rampant, unbridled and also restrained.
I am the Thundering Eye of the storm
I am the Deluge that it brings along
I am the Space Dust whirling around
Deformed defacements that once were sound
I am also the Centre of the Universe
I’m the Infinite Beauty of prose and verse
I am Kindness and I am Faith
I am Hope and I am Grace
I am the Atom, I am the Whole
I am the Body, I am the Soul
I am whoever that I want to be
I am Maya*, I am Cosmic Energy.
* MAYA: The personification of the idea that the material world is illusory. Maya is a female name in various languages. In Sanskrit, for instance, it means "illusion or magic", and is also an alternate name of the Hindu goddess Lakshmi. In the Tupi language, of southern Brazil, it means "mother". In the Māori language, it means "courage" or "bravery".

VERSE | THE ACCIDENTAL WORDSMITH

I’m an accidental wordsmith 
I solder little things
Nouns and verbs and adjectives
Some calming, some with a sting

Some say they like my poetry
When words I synchronise
Like Paler than a Tundra Jailer
Eyes Turquoise like Southern Skies


Others they are fonder of
The short stories that I weave
Of everyday folks, who beat all the odds
Tales of strength and tales of grief

Still others declare, that they swear
By my pithy, four line squiggles
Proverbs with a caustic twist
Metaphors to make you giggle

There are also those that have held on
To their childhood innocence
My fairy tales and creature lore
Are their thimbles full of gin

So I carry on being a wordsmith
Hugging hearts and moving minds
With truth and grit, drollery and bliss
Sharing a few moments out of time.

VERSE | THE PERFECT LATTE

She bubbles and she froths
She spills over on the table cloth
She frolics and she plays
My steaming mug of latte

Voluminous creamy lace
Hiding her caffeinated face
Her heart swells in youthful glee
On the table in front of me.

I read; wait a while; turn a page
In latte time, it’s already middle age
The lace is tattered, burnt skin showing through
The passionate heat has left the brew

Mindful of its waning charm, I grip
My mug of latte to take a sip.
I grimace, the perfect moment has passed
I get a mouthful of tepid coffee, alas!
She’d sat before me, in gracious state
I ignored the moment, realized too late.

And so it is with so much in our lives
Rich with serendipity, with do-overs rife
But We sit back ignoring the universe
Rueing our luck - ‘Our fate is cursed!’
Opportunities come and pass us by
‘It’s just God’s will’ we blame it on high.

But here’s the truth, simple and clear
The passivity, the stupor is unfounded fear.
So as each opportubity bubbles and froths
Onto your life’s pristine table cloth
Know this is your moment to make your own
Reach out to receive it before it has flown.

VERSE|Jetwing Lighthouse, Galle

The beautiful tropical monsoon sky
That changes colours in the blink of an eye.
Inspiring awe in its kaleidoscopic wake
It shifts and shimmers; now translucent, now opaque.

From the deepest depths of a cornflower blue
To the delicate flush of a just ripe peach,
It drifts and glimmers in rainbow hues
An iridescent paradise just out of reach.

Then there’s the never ending mesmeric motion
Of the cresting and falling Indian Ocean;
It’s white laced edges hugging the shore
In a primal dance telling tales of yore.
This is the magic of the Lighthouse* promontory
Where the heavens lustily encircle the sea.

VERSE| IN NATURE’S EMBRACE

The green of the earth 
And the blue of the sky;
The cool, mellow breeze
That caressingly passes by.

The trilling of the birds
The humming of the bees;
The rustling of the leaves
In their verdant canopies.

The well-loved paths
Fringed with emerald grass;
The spring-born butterflies
Delicately flitting past.

That one beloved companion
Who matches steps with mine,
Our hearts and minds in harmony
In this precious time.

This surely is my heaven
My earthly paradise,
Where Nature gently embraces me
And I kiss her with my eyes.

VERSE| THE WOODEN BENCH

We have all, at some time or another been overwhelmed, overpowered, bested by our grief, anxiety and wretchedness. At those times, some of us have also been lucky enough to have that one place where we have, for a while, found some degree of quietude and peace. This is a tribute to those secret little places and spaces of comfort and healing in our lives.

There is this wooden bench I like
It’s not fancy; quite the common type.
Cloaked in by the dappled canopy
Of a gracefully pirouetting Mara tree,
It sits in the park like a dear old friend
It’s well-worn embrace ever welcoming.
A young couple walks up, caught in the grips of wrath
Love is lost; it’s the wretched aftermath;
Words are exchanged until the fury’s spent
Frustration - Anxiety - Sadness - Silence.
Then they sit down on the wooden bench ...
Gradually, muscles relax and nerves untense.
Even if it is a passing interlude,
Loads are lightened; hearts are soothed.

Wild flowers grow lushly around its feet
Bobbing bright heads to Earth’s vital beat.
The bench sits there like a quiet friend
It’s well-worn seat ever welcoming.
A man sits down in a state of unease
Holding on to his hat in an errant breeze.
He picks up his phone and looks at the screen;
The unlit glass reflects the tranquil scene ...
He looks up and around him his brow somewhat eased
Fleeting albeit, he’s found his moment of peace.

Songful birds and their terrestrial friends
Roam warbling and chittering around the bench;
Hoping for a serendipitously fallen treat
They browse busily around the seat.
A wheelchair-bound man looks up at an overcast sky;
His female companion already has water in her eyes.
They sit side by side in worlds of their own
Reminisnce weighs heavy of days that are gone ...
A mynah trills as a light drizzle falls
And a sweet petrichor briefly dispels the pall.
The man looks at her, takes her hand and she smiles
For now they’re alright; tomorrow is still a while.

I too have sat in Nature’s restoring arms
On that bench where she weaves her alchemical charms.
I too have unburdened my hopes and my fears
I too have laid my bursting heart bare;
And I have heard her soothing murmurs
That have quietened my deepest despair.
I’ve looked into her soft eyes from that corner in the park
For a time, my soul too has emerged from the dark;
The clouds have parted; the sun has shone through
And I’ve breathed more easily, sitting on that wooden pew.

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