Every wakeful moment
The wise spend it planning, learning or earning,
Losers spend it winnowing their airy dreams,
Wallowing in their misery,
And swallowing their future
Every wakeful moment
The wise spend it planning, learning or earning,
Losers spend it winnowing their airy dreams,
Wallowing in their misery,
And swallowing their future
And when you sit to ponder,
In the middle of a cold and lonely night,
What will tomorrow bring, you wonder
Be still, you are alight, always
Some of the times life seems like a walk,
In a forest full of hungry wild animals,
Be still, you make them up in your silent talk
You are alright, always
You are always alright,
There are no nights any darker
You are only scared of your light,
Be still, you are alright, always.
You do not need dope to cope
Time is never in haste,
You could wallow in misery or chose hope
Because, in the end, you will always be right
the blank pages dares me,
taunts me, mocks me to fill it,
I can't think of anything,
I can't arrange the idea inside
my head,
into something coherent,
something that would communicate the theme
"Look here's today's poem"
In the background, a soulful Vince Gill
song "Go Rest High on That Mountain"
It's kind of nostalgic,
brings forth a memory I haven't live through yet
and I realise I won't ever live such a moment
I have no desire
Deep inside I am country boy
not so well-versed with so many things
Well, and this is today's poem
for me and that one reader who shows up
on this page
I wish you weren't anonymous,
my one loyal reader
As a kid, I thought riding a bicycle
was an inborn skill,
I'd watch others graceful hop on the
two wheeler and pedal to their destinies
I might have asked myself,
"What's too difficult about it?"
Then I learned the hard way
My first contact with a bicycle earned
me a scar
I tried to apply what I had seen masters do,
And to my dismay, I realised there's more to
a bicycle than simply hopping on it and pedaling away
There'd be a thousand failed attempts,
a thousand falls, and a few scars
Before I could earn the right
to gracefully hop on it and ride away
the stars bury their faces in shame
when the catch a glimpse of your gleaming face,
the sun retreats behind the clouds,
sometimes it flees to another world,
when you smile.
every time you step into the room,
I feel like I have the universe in my palms,
I am yet to understand what you gave me
it always begins with a sip
- or a gulp - whichever will coax
demons out of the tombs,
sooner, ephemeral bliss takes over,
sooner, the raging storms make a hasty retreat,
to wait for their moment
sooner, the heights become hazy,
and tranquility - a sinister form of tranquility
weans a soul of all its worries, all its burdens,
and owns them
in an ephemeral bliss
the future blends with nothingness
Charles Chipcho caught the bus to bedlam,
He did not think even for single minute,
If he'd ever make it back,
And, because he had a two-way ticket,
He relaxed and made merry
with all the merry-makers of bedlam.