GAINING MY MIND

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GAINING MY MIND

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I Know

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Don’t you talk to me Like I do not know, I know That the best of poems were never written in ink That the purest of thoughts lies deep I know True smiles comes from the eyes and That happiness do not fly on wings of wish That men are desperate and some evil Don’t you dare talk to me Like I do not know That the heavens is endless and defies science, that The stars therein are not only ornaments, each and all its name and wonders as assigned I know That God made us and then we made our personal demons, everyman his own That chance and time happens and men and women mere witnesses and chroniclers That our destination is of utmost essence just as well as the path Dare you school me! I know, poetry is my cure and my disease That I can create a beauty and a beautiful thing in and from this world of nothingness That as a poet and not a common man Sitting on that rung comes with its woes Enough to mar or make I have always known To listen caref...
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Confession

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Like every Saturday morning I woke up hungry, a bit jaded and Hoping to catch some leftovers I ventured into my kitchenette And lost my hunger at the sorry sight Of a wearied mouse in a bucket of water Tired from trying to climb out It paused at my sight, bowed its head For a moment, it bobbed up again Our eyes met and locked Its pleading eyes were unmistakable No doubt begging to be rescued I was moved to act, to save the unlucky mouse I propmptly carried the bucked into the yard And drained the water away slowly At last the mouse was out, and save I hope But she wasn’t, she could not be saved She tried to run but could not Her four legs could not carry her She shivered, bubbled and swaggered sideways She was going to die of cold, I think My mind was turn into two To leave her to fate or offer mercy killing For a second I turned my back, to leave Then saw a rock the size of a serving plate Which I carried and slammed on the dying mouse The mercy killing has...
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Out of the Woods came a Score of Four-Year-Olds

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It was a sunless winter noon I sat on a stump by the woods' gate Hoping the sun will shine through the dreary clouds, Then, out of the woods, came a score of four-year-olds Little boys and girls, in leather boots At first, I had my eyes fixed on the sky Still waiting for a glimmer But then the brightness of twenty pairs of shiny eyes Were about to light up my ennui  One of them, a gentleman, winked His boots were shinning and black He almost does not belong in the crowd His coat was fancy and neat As the others were soiled and wrinkled He was followed by a girl who looked guilty In muddy boots, coat and obliqued eyes—a recipe for a future politician Next were a couple, a boy and a girl who held hands And chatted endlessly without a care  Dirty as charged and looking like soon-to-be famous YouTubers They walked past me in no hurry or pattern I took a long ponderous look at each and all And can tell you that among them were the future priests  And sinners, poets and scienti...
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