BABY CHILLIE PLANT

hello, i'm up, baby chillie plant

where am i?

what's this place?

wilt..

i need sunlight

wilt..

too much sunlight!

wilt..

water, please?

wilt..

too much water!

wilt..

thank you

i feel better

smile..

breeze! i like breeze!

smile..

too much breeze!

wilt..

i think i'm gonna die

wilt..

thank you for shifting the mud

smile..

i feel fine now

smile..

maybe i'll grow up after all...

AT THE END OF THE DAY

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At the end of the day

It wasn't the hour that mattered
It was your being there.
It wasn't the drink that mattered
It was the compatible silence.
It wasn't the view that mattered
It was your hand in mine.
It wasn't the world that mattered
It was your safety.
It wasn't the food that mattered
It was your taste.
It wasn't the dress I wore that mattered
It was that you liked it.
It wasn't the calls that mattered
It was your voice.
It wasn't the distance that mattered
It was your presence.
It wasn't the conversation that mattered
It was that we spoke.
It wasn't the working out that mattered
It was that we tried.
It wasn't the amount that mattered
It was that you cared.

LET’S TAKE THINGS FURTHER…

         

Storm lulled,
Passion spent,
In each others’ arms
Sated and content.

A lingering touch,
A gentle smile,
A soft word or two,
A lull awhile.

A soft drizzle,
A gentle breeze,
Prismic raindrops
On tips of leaves.

Love, now a drowsy, lulled security-
Safe and snug in the arms of eternity,
And as nocturnal Moon on it’s round now starts,

Frozen memories in the recesses of hearts...

CONVERSATION

A conversation remains on our lips

unsaid, unspoken

hesitant...

restrained...

afraid that it might 

surprise a tenderness  there

or shock an awareness here

slowly moving

to depths unknown

terrains unexplored

frightening in intensity

yet beckoning

in a hynotic gaze

that draws out the soul

deeper and deeper

and deeper....

till all is said.

warped mind

to be talking
when talking is over and done with
like beating down the beaten path
again and again...

my life is in a cubicle
i refuse to recognize a world beyond
every chink in the wall, i hurry to close.
and then i'm sitting, thinking how secure i am,
how insulated from the big bad world.
i finger my pens lovingly,
count the number of roses on my teacup
elaborately plan my cup of tea...
the event was when i stepped out to throw the waste
and saw this woman running...
i stood for a while watching her run.
i did not want to know the end of that story.
it provides me fodder for days.
perhaps she ran from an attack?
a harassing husband?
a lost child maybe?
had she lost her life?
was it the train she missed?

I build each story carefully
with my bricks of assumptions.
no, I do not want to know what happened....

I figure out the time by the length of the shadow on the floor
the hooting siren tells me it is 6 pm
time to get started on that ritual of going to bed...

glo

DAMMED LOVE!

This river bed runs dry
parched land of polite phrases
And phony facades.

This river never to meet the ocean.
Never to know its tide
reach for a reciprocation.
Never to know its breeze
seek your breath.
Never to graze gently
the lush green of love.
Never to be still
in deep waters
of underlying currents.
Never to be drawn in and lost
in the whirlpool of your passion.

Never to know
of my dammed love!

PREDICTIONS FOR A LAIDBACK PHILOSOPHER

The crowds moved around me
With purpose
Life led somewhere.
My own had settled
At the bottom of a teacup
In a pattern of uncertainty.

The sky held possibilities
My fist held fear.
The mist cleared
And the crystal ball showed
A transit period
When everything I touched
Turned to gold.

I crossed her palm with silver
And she read lines
On mine 
That criss-crossed
Into the star
I would be
When I reached for the skies.

She did not read my eyes
She did not read my thoughts
And I did not tell her
Of old habits
That die hard.