In spheres of many colours,
There's a beauty that is told.
A story of multiplicity,
In a landscape that's sold.

I spy mankind's creativity,
In the visions that we see.
A spectrum of variety,
In the difference between you and me.

You may be a lover of the rainbow,
To my more monolithic taste.
But this should not cause hatred,
Or see human kindness replaced.

For in this world of many,
There's a place for you and me.
To live in perfect harmony,
And be the best that we can be.

They say, “you are what you eat”, but they don’t mention how we’ve all been spoon fed by our parents, their parents to them and so forth.

Oh, chest infection,
Why have you come in my direction?
I scrub myself daily,
nice and gleaming clean,
Yet you inhabit my body,
Making me cough up yellows & greens.

I can't sleep while you party deep in my chest,
I need some sleep goddammit,
Give it a bloody rest!
You are messing with my thermostat,
Making me feel all hot, then cold!
Can you please stop doing that!
Why won't you do what you're told?

The heart exhales,
as the soul finds peace
in the middle
of my chaos.

The type that
makes despair
into a kidnapper
with no demands.

Sick of the wars
with my reflection,
to the point
that if I don’t
let this pen
undress my mind,

I will lose the hope
that even when death
is unlocking the door,
sitting next to you,
promising to
be with you
till your last breath.

people are our real legacy;
one day sure, entire poems
shall have been forgotten,
while remains a phrase or
a feeling drawn from wells

deeper than memory can reach,
or device can retrieve much like

thread-diving as we scamper for
posts buried by traffic and flood posters…

follow, subscribe, or friend buttons
can only do so much

so we hang on to what we have
and hold dear, today saving
each precious moment
if bookmarked sentiments are promises
all will be well -we’ll boldly breathe again

they lie there-

brave, frail,

the same.
hands, cold,

pretend to hold.
no saviour.

only the knife.

the gasp.
(you think you feel?

you think you live?

steal.

join.

prize.)
priest waits,

blade bright,

arms wide.
rest now.

Too much bottled up
If I loosened the cap,
you might drown
in all I never said.

Been a prisoner to fears;
I welcome isolation
if it stops your tears.

Don’t lose sleep over me —
somehow the cashier
filled my bags with anxiety.

Yes, I have drifted apart,
so the people I love
don’t see me torn apart.

You know the hurricanes
I walked through —
I didn’t even want a breeze
to come near you.

I might be in my storm,
but know this:
you are the sun
that bears witness —

You've touched so many lives.
When I mention your name,
the reaction is always the same.
You bring a smile to people.
They feel a warmth in their soul.
They love you.
You do your job so well.
You're a kind person.
You're a genuine person.
You're a mensch.
It's all in you.
You bring out the best in your patients.
And I was one of them.
You're a good person.
You're the best.
Just saying your name,
opens an entire conversation,

unexpectedly came about,
when possible prospect
of the wife going
to Puerto Rico by herself
(for a fêted celebration
of our eldest daughter
and her significant other,
which occurred years ago
courtesy justice of the peace)
attended by family and friends
across the webbed wide word
found me positing how I would feel
staying back at the apartment alone
for a couple of days -
maybe a week at most
enjoying a quasi
short lived bachelor existence -
fending for myself,
which would mean

Into oblivion
she assumed he would
slip one day, but her
dream never came true.

He was ever in
her dreams and
ever in her heart.
Days came and years went.
Still, the spectre of him
flooded her mind.

Days came and
decades went, leaving
her mired in her loss
and puzzled at
the absent love
in a limited life.