Being in Love with You

I was trying to figure out what I loved more,
The way you love me,
or the way I love you.

I love the way you love me,
for who doesn’t love to be loved?
I love the way your eyes smile when you see me,
I love the way your tilt your head when I walk towards you.
I love all the little things you do for me.
The Wild flowers, the chocolates, the teddy,
And all the silly reasons you make up just to see me,

I love the way you love me.
There is no doubt to it.
But I love the way I love you better.
Because there is only you in it and no me,
And I love you more than I love me.

Keep Seeking…

Is it weak to long and crave for something?
Is it reckless to go seeking for that thing?
And even when it seems obscure and rare,
Is it futile to keep looking with at most care?

And when you finally emerge with that priceless pearl,
All soaked and drenched in the sea of crowds,
Does wanting to hold on to it with all you have,
Make you a person too gullible- a child too naive?

And when your heart gets torn into pitiful bits,
Left forlorn in a cocoon of lonely thoughts,
Is it silly to stand up again and say out loud,
“I am sure it’ll be better the next time around”?

Is this drive- a wish to possess that which eludes;
While reason is veiled by prideful vows?
Or is it simply the presence of that precious streak-
The strength of faith in what you seek?

A Priceless Gift

The touch of a thought,
-prayers sent by a dear one.
The perfume of a color,
-scent of the setting sun.
The hues of words,
-uttered by one who knows,
And the music of a scent.
-sung by a fragrant rose.

If you haven’t know these pulses,
Drowned in its mighty sea,
To boldly emerge
High and drunk with bliss,
It’s time to soak in that spirit
Running through all that you see.
It’s time to pause and learn
To relish that gift called life.

Light of Darkness

See yourself in the light of darkness.
Away from the critical eyes of reason.
Face those fears you always new you had .
Encounter those, dormant, vicious, beasts
Sleeping deep within you in perilous bounds.
In shackles or not see that they are alive
Breathings, pulsating, making you bleed from within.
Free those monsters, face them headlong.
Know their strengths and feel their power.
Then control them, subdue them
And if they prove too wild to be tamed
Slay them with the sheer power of will.

My Mysterious Friend

Oh Look! There he is,
-my loyal shadow,

Morphed and tempered as I have,
He has walked and lived by me.
Growing, shrinking, bending, twisting,
He has laughed and cried with me.

He is happy adapting to time and space
as long as he is with me.
He silently slides, glides and waltz,
as long as he’s dancing with me.

Does he have a mind of his own,
Or is he just a puppet to my minds tune?
Do I, on a plate, serve him darkness?
Or does he feed from the darkness around us both?

I don’t know,
I really don’t.

But every time I see him,
A deeper awareness screams out loud,
That no matter how faint or quaint,
Light still touches my meager life.

So, content not knowing his mysteries,
I gladly let him tag along.
Beside, a shadow without a secrete is hardly a shadow,
And a life without a mystery is hardly a life.

Pigs With Wings

Ever wondered if pigs ever wanted to fly?
Even if gravity one day got angry with them,
And singled them out from her universal love,
Do you think they’d be willing to leave the warm ground?

So why do people keep saying, “If pigs could fly”?
Just because, somewhere, someday, some guy
had nothing better to do than dream of flying pigs?
Why should they have to suffer the ridicule of generations after generations?

Why do they get displayed in fairs with fake wings glued to their backs?
Why do people carve wings on them when they make stone pig sculptures?
Why do artist paint pigs with wings?
Are they not pretty enough without wings?
The pride and self-esteem of an entire species has been trampled to the ground.
And why?
Just because, somewhere, someday, some guy
had nothing better to do than dream of flying pigs?

So, the poor pigs had to wait.
And what a long wait it has been!
Being the subject of cruel, inhuman jokes.
Mocked, scorned, teased, mentally and emotional tortured.
Until after many a heart rending years of constant humiliation,
At another place, on another day, another guy
had nothing better to do than write a “poem” to defend their honor.

Note: 10% of profits* from the sales of these products will go to the ‘Protect Pig’s Honor Foundation.’ 

The World I Crave

Give me a world where everything works,
The ways my grandmother stories did.
A world where good always triumphs,
And is honored, revered and not called a fool.
A world where evil if ever shows up,
Does so by mistake, and is out of the norm,
A world where families stay together
Till death or worse do them apart,
World where friends watch each other’s back,
And a word once given is never retrieved.

Give me that world once again, please,
I carve to feel its warmth again.
For as I walk along this stream called life,
Move through mountains, valleys and brae.
I wish to look at the sights ahead,
Observe, enjoy and bask in their glow.
And not watch out for those dreadful blows,
That could strike me anytime, from behind.

How Poetry Comes to Me

Many a thoughts flash across my mind,
So rapid, I can hardly tell them apart,
With many a voice, fragrance, and faces,
Forming one collage of colorful art. 

The rainbow formed by the morning due,
Talks of hopes, joy and a better world.
The hues that pass through a stinging tear,
Are just as bright and just as whirled.

As I shift through my mind, pause and play,
Thoughts come crystallized in quick succession.
A pulse I can no longer afford to printed to ignore,
A fierce frantic force, with a fervent mission. 

That’s when I settle with a pen and paper,
To be drenched in that dazzling dance of dream.
That’s when I behold that mighty being,
Gestating, hidden, in my mind’s secret stream. 

I came across this blog when the author had liked my poem “A Prize Won Fair.” What an honor to know that someone like him liked what I wrote. Thank you Sir!

cancer killing recipe

Today is my birthday. I’m 65 years old. Happy birthday to me! And I’m celebrating 65 years of my immortality. Yeah! 65 years!

That’s: 780 months, 3380 weeks, 23660 days, 567840 hours, or many, many minutes.

Basicaly, if I think about this, i could have died any time, any day of my life, 23660 times in those 65 years, but I’m still alive and O.K.

This makes me very happy and proud of myself. And this is a reason for celebration.

I’m a survivor! I have survived 65 years of living and cancer.

I Google: How long does the average person lives? And I got the answer: About 80 – 100 years if nothing happens to them. Yeah. That’s very interesting. Because  as we all know, life is dangerous. …..Risk never sleeps….. From the minute we wake-up (if we wake-up), anything can happen to us.

I’m planning to live other…

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A Prize Won Fair

To die I wonder what it’s like,
To be free at last from all things known.
A whole new world awaits me there,
I long to know that world unknown.

This life, I know is filled with pain,
Lessons and tests that will make me grow,
And death I know as a place of bliss,
A state of being I long to be.

This soul, it simply longs to fly,
looks down on life and shuns the world.
But I want death to be what it really is,
A prize won fair after a life well lived.