Elusive she

Graceful indeed the way she soothes me

I sway by the gentleness of her touch

The way she brushes, the way she kisses

Night and day, in admiration her softness I feel.

I wish she is mine forever in this realm

Alas! How selfish I can be to expect so to be

She is the heir of her life, forever she is

How can I be so mean to expect her be mine.

Her swift gaze, a panacea for heated emotions

Her gentle blow, music for nature to dance

Her beauty I cared not very much

Her elusiveness renders me forever blind.

Her reflection I seek in the puddle of water

Hoping to conquer her elusiveness,

The water shy away closing her face

And my love is forever invisible.

I wish she is mine but, that is not to be so

Her name is known as Wind

Without her, my life is nothing

I surrender to her will, Que Sera Sera.

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If cemetery, a library.

If cemetery a library
I know I have tonnes of books
To flip through pages of lives
Searching for story that suits mine.
Each tomb I place my gaze on

Is a book written in time

Encasing many sagas of sweet and bitter

On worn out pages and new as well.

A final chapter concludes

When each bid farewell

To everyone around and with a final dot
The epistle ends with solemn gratitude.

Nobody halt the journey unfinished
Where one ought to stop, there he stops,
Succintly Mother Nature fixes the finishing
Be it a sorrow filled, or happy one.

Each tomb, I place my gaze on

Is a book written in time

They left indelible vibrations in the ether

For others to breathe in stories beyond the tomb
To charter a new chapter for a new book
Every tomb speaks in silence.

Each book here is a precious print

For the divine in each marks the words therein

Each carries a story different

As their life they live, they  see what they perceived.

It is not a zeitgeist of our existence

To refute the strangeness of Mother Nature

Because when she decides to write

In beauty and mystical mystery she writes

And these books too

She writes, beautifully.

If cemetery a library

Each tomb, I place my gaze on

Is a book written in time.

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Old Town – Pengkalan Hulu

Poignant memories

Of a life painted on the walls

Of an old small town,

Like waves assailing me non-stop

From all corners of my memories.

Pleasant ones stay with smile

The unpleasant ones float with tears

Blown by winds of past

The rustic charm of both worlds

Together build a hut in my heart.

The days swallowed by time

Irreversible indeed by no means,

The plausible beauty of mind

Brings back the olden touch

With the scent of the land.

Memories like pages of book

I flipped one by one

And stop longer on this one

To refresh my heart and mind

The images of this old town.

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Disability: Cerebral palsy

The person inside
Raring to go,
Though bonded
For reasons inexplicable.
Beyond the contorted frames
Beneath those twitching faces
The person always there
Raring to achieve the goals.
Alas! so called the society
We all remain weaklings
Our patience tested a thousand times
Yet they teach us they are the best.
They type not 20 words per minute
But, one letter in a minute,
The zest is within, the goal is yonder
And their presence makes the now much better.
Almost daily, we ponder upon many things
Forgetting the wonder amidst us
Ever there to move with us to explore the world
Hardly have we cared to wait and in haste, we leave them alone.
Pain they show not like us
Though frustrated and agitated
In a world full of madness
Where speed and time matters most.
Struggling their way through ours
They try hard to win their days,
With things adapted to their needs
The skills begin to find the way.
Externally everything seems different
But the inner war remains the same as ours,
They are not different by standard of creation
Differently they become because of our ignorance.
They are here to be with us, part of all of us
To teach us the truest sense of appreciation
And, they leave the trail for acceptance
To show us the way towards light, lightly.
Greatest among many
They are souls trapped in extreme limitations
Waiting to rise, if only we care to respect their rights
As enshrined in the nature’s law of dignified equality.


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Karma

Like the unsettled dust
It beats the light and darkness
To reach the recipient
Be it now or later
Be it in any part of the universe,
As cold as the Vostok breeze
As hot as El Azizia
Or interspersed with both
The residue of karma
Leaves us not.
Until the thoughts unwoven
One by one
With each strand dies with an end
No root to hold upon
Until then this unwritten law
Trails us ever.

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Erratic winds

Let the wind rustle my thoughts

And, disperse the clouded knots

I wouldn’t mind at all

‘coz the agitations torment me not.

In every mind thus goes the story

Rippling sapling of thoughts in millions

Hardly one plucked before another grow

This mystery is an unexplained furrow.

To be whisked with hands both

Thoughts are not matter tangible

But, thoughts are matter discernible

By the minds beyond the trap.

That which is rooted firmly

Like that of an eucalyptus tree

If good , will cement us well

If bad, we will bid a sad farewell.

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