I sat across
from the empty chair
last night.
We were celebrating
Faye's birthday,
all of us.
All five of us, that is.

The Club was great.
The food was good.
The company,
Well,
do I have to tell you!
I kept staring
at the empty chair
across from me,
with the table settings removed.
He may no longer be here
but looking at his daughters
and their strength of character,
the wonderful men in their lives,
his hand is present.

With loving hands you were always held,
deeply loved, most of your desires tended
my soul Companion and best of friends,
now comes the time I must physically let go...

I release you from the restrictions of leash,
on shaking knees, I bend to unlatch your tether,
Lick my hand and one last look into your telling eyes
go now, to the land where I may not yet follow...

Opened arms wide,
To hedonist ways.
Entertainment fads,
And all it displays.

Hooked minds found,
Another fateful escape.
Drug induced highs,
To pause life's tape.

Heart pushed away,
Treated as a letdown.
Yet devoid of feeling,
Now trying not to drown.

Soulless manic seekers,
No clue to what was lost.
Put money as their saviour,
Regardless to the cost.

And now the world is broken,
Mankind trapped in their hole.
Could they find a way back?
To rescue their lost souls.

there was a time
when thoughts
were pencilled in
by flashlight or nightlight
well after the house
had shut down for the night

there was a time
when poems
were extensions
of one's hopes and dreams
by words coloured in -
imagination reigned supreme

there came a time
when typing in
on keyboards and touch screens
cursors blipping and
message alarms beeping -
our faces twitting in online spaces

It’s almost dark now
And it’s only after few minutes after six
It took me a while to realize
That this means
We’re running out of summer evenings

I don’t miss my childhood friends
I don’t even miss my childhood
But on evenings like this one
We’d be out on the yard still
Trying to catch
The last of the essence of summer

Let the child dream,
Thinking of stars blossoming in paradise,
Imagining crafts, creating solutions,
For the universe needs a mind to build a world.

Let the child love,
Believing in miracles and trusting in mercy,
Experiencing tears, joy, life and harshness,
For the world is better lived by those who feel.

Let the child grow,
Enjoying the future, reliving past memories,
Letting go of scars that bitter hearts,
For the story is yet achievable if there are steps to follow.

Communicating your thoughts
openly
confidently
with pride.
Getting the details out of your head
and emerging from your mouth.
Using the words
that give you a solution,
clearing the air
and making an outcome possible.

It's the entry to healing.
It's the opening to saying what you mean.
It's the beginning of relief.
It's the entry to therapy.
It's all of the above.

It started with a whisper through the door,
a reckoning I had forgotten long before.
No tear, no scream, just something slightly off,
a sudden chill, a kind of smothered cough.

The threads slipped far with neither blame nor fuss,
it simply stopped the way this worked for us.
I felt it first, your absence on bare skin,
where once your comfort held me tucked within.

A (chance) meeting in the bustling marketplace,
asking only specific directions of her.
He bowed gracefully and low, removing his hat
Inquiring as to where he could find the cinematograph?

"If it's culture you seek, visit one of our museums..."
She harshly rebuked: viewing him as a lower societal person
taking him aback, putting him on the defensive track
coolly, she suggested he purchase a "Street Atlas" from a vendor!

In my cup, three
Stars have fallen:
My fellow's verse,
A wisdom I've just learnt,
And your smile.