A Song Of Joy

 

little Sofi on her silver cloud

merry, merry laughter sound

yellow ribbons woolly cheeks

happy feet pretty smiles.


little Sofi weave a dance

so i may witness thy happy cheer

little Sofi with her pinky frock of joy

round and round she moved without fear


little Sofi show me thy rosy palms

so i may hold to join

little Sofi now giggling charm

sang to me a tune in notes of joy


little Sofi clapped with waves of joy

curly hair glittering eyes

little Sofi smiling said to me

“let’s do it again!”


and i wept with joy

 

 

A Faded Love

her rampant tantrums out of thin air

oh! dare i not tame

struck pale at first encounter

but completely immune now i am

to her divine nature


evermore, the olympian bard i can be
if she longs for the ancient lores
evermore, the renaissant architect i can turn into
to have a thousand sanctuaries built on the twilight
so to have her feel eternity
within each breath of my warm embrace
O how i wish!
O how i wish!

Or, else kiss away one’s soul on her?!
how can you think not so, when spring passes by?

and the vibrant colors of tulip in the spring sun

only feeds your love the more

Ah! a sick man — that you are now

when your love fancies fill your entire existence

Cheetah

out in the savannahs

in the land of grass
a member of the cat family
with its dark tear marks
that marks its tribe

its eyes

slowly gazing through the tall grasses

scanning out for the hunt
its slender body and the long legs,
the perfect anatomy

built to immortalise the lightening speed


its tail lifted

seeing the feeble deer

grazing in the distance


now the focus is set

with its paws thumping

as it picks up the pace

for the ultimate kill

the key is to survive

like the rest


O great cheetah!

have you caught your catch?

Ode To A Rubber Soul

a ripple against the flow

where the dark force took a solemn vow

and the hands that play the flute

a million lost along its tune


an impulse that squanders mercilessly

like hollow reeds withering sideways
time is running out

for the little frog that wallows in june mud


down the isle walketh the king
with heart of wishful delight

for the evening cometh golden hue

where the ferryman a well paid


night and day he wept to hear

to the sound of the merry wind

for the day’s divinity aloud sang

when the old rabbit at the gate of dawn

removed the ancient curse

a dystopian fear floating in the howling wintry wind

scattering up in the hills, the woods and down the valley

O Ibochouba! the once god’s righteous man

what hath ailed thee to consume such venom in this wee hour of dawn?

what satisfaction dost thou receive upon their cunning wiles

is it the false alarm of security you were fondly assured of?

or, just another spread of that invisible plague on thy dying conscience?