Uncertainty

Can pigs fly?

Over the fields of rye,

Across the sea of blue,

Through civilisation and its flue.

 

Can birds lie?

In a manner so sly.

To and observant audience;

The sun so bright – oh, a great ambience!

 

Can the moon not shine?

Down on the farm, for the lover saying,

“Girl, my girl, will you be mine?”

With his heart beating fast and him, praying.

 

Can the storm subside?

For a scarecrow at stand,

Guarding the farm – day and night,

From the goods and evils of the land.

The Sailor that I am

Then, and there, I decided to be a sailor.
A sailor of the seven seas would I be.
I got my cloak prepared – by the finest tailor,
And got a parrot, who would accompany me at sea.

We set out, one windy day –
Oh, not the best time to set the sails.
The hard part at sea is finding the way,
I look down south, oh, a storm hails!

There was, but little time to get out of the way,
Of the giant devastating storm that was at bay.
It would break my ship apart, and I would be dead,
And this story – to you, it would be never said.

For the sea made delighful stories, I thought.
Brave sailors and captains, with storms, who fought.
I wanted to be known as the sailor of the seven seas –
Holding for the secret treasures, the secret keys.

And so, the storm that was coming had to be faced.
There was not other choice, of course,
The dark clouds arrived, and the wind raced.
“Aye, aye sailors!” said I, in a voice, now hoarse.

My fellow sailors – the cloak and the parrot,
Knew that the time had arrived,
My cloak got warmer, and the parrot nimbled on the carrot,
And thus we prepared for the storm – long we strived.

But the storm did not trouble us much,
And we got away – out of its clutch.
My sailors thanked me, oh, what joy!
I felt it was due to me – ever since I was a boy.

A mutiny left me on this land – so strange and untrue,
That people did not believe my story of my ship and my crew.
The ship, I cannot show them – its long gone,
For the beautiful heart of the sea, had it won.

So now, I spend my days, as a common man,
Drinking from the coomon cup, eating from the common pan,
I wait for my ship to take me away when it arrives again,
For a sailor’s life at land, is full of vain.

One of these days

And one day, you will see the dark clouds arriving –
You will see them at the horizon, drawing nearer, with every unpromising breath.
They will bring to you rain, secluded well for a long time in their bosom –
The rain that you had so longed for – every now and then, but at times unprepared for its arrival.

And one day, you will listen to the whispering of the sun –
To the setting sun; a song for the farmers returning home from fields.
You will hear them whispering, and singing, in the announcement of an arrival –
Which had been awaited for what seems to be now so long.

And one day, you will observe the mist approaching,
And covering you, and everything around –
In a thick, cold air, sometimes so comforting –
That sleep awaits there – like timeless perfection.

And thus, we travelled

We travelled far and wide – to understand what was once well said.
We went across the hills and down the seaside, and watched the sun and the horizon, in the moment when they wed.
We crossed the big stones – like tiny, old pebbles;
Saw then roll down – with a rumble.
We touched the hot rocks, rather felt them, with our bare hands.
And shook our heads when comfort came at a price – in distant lands.

What I have, is for you

I have a song for you in my mind;

I cannot, however, sing it to you.

For the sun is so warm, and the river – so kind,

My song – through me to you, cannot get through.

 

I have a dance for you – my steps well rehearsed, and sometimes not.

I cannot, however, dance for you.

For the butterflies flutter their wings – in colours so gay,

And the sun – through the clouds, and across the sky, makes its way.

 

I have a rose for you – red, and in bloom.

The rose, however, I cannot give to you.

For its petals – tender and sweet, take away my gloom.

And beauty has always complemented beauty, but never alone.

 

I have come to you, with no hopes in mind;

With a mind so blue, and a heart so kind,

That it forgets its suffering and pain,

And rejoices, with just humble gain.

 

So, all I can do is think about you,

While I try to identify my thoughts – so vague.

The thoughts that come, however, drift away soon –

Like the comfort of the summer, and the sparkle of the river – in the light of the moon.