Rhyme

When words and thought combine
In poetic verse sans rhyme.
It's like the feast one's invited to dine
In culinary splendour, sans wine.

Death

When life has played its part
And death breathes once and last
When tears dry, and all left are bones and burnt
Let the waters spread the ashes to unknown ends.
And then briefly remain a memory, a thought 
That surely in God’s time will be forever lost 

Teacher

I stand alone in front of young minds
Some eager, some distant, to what I have to offer.
Little minds that have to be moulded
Like clay in the hands of the potter.

What do I say to them? What to make them listen? 
Is it strong words and the rod un-spared? 
Or words of understanding and of love
Or the knowledge from which I’ve prepared.

Young minds curious, inquisitive, questioning
Who made the earth? Can’t we do without geography? 
Math is a bore! And science we need no more.
What’s with history or for that matter even biology? 

Big minds of little stars with learned light to fuel.
What ideas can I employ, these unlearned to lure
To thoughts of greatness and knowledge retain
What understanding and magic conjure? 

The pen of knowledge writes not for all
And for the most, it isn’t inked for long.
Help me Lord, not to force in understanding
But direct these little minds to find the right way on. 

Heal me O Lord

When the worry and pain is too much to bear,
And sickness and doubt draws its many creases.
When I seek God, but find Him no where
And the fear of death ever increases.

Then help me realize my illness brings me back to God,
And joy is much more when I realise failure is as mortal
As hurt and sadness? Healing stripes from the Master’s rod.
To mend our self from what is unjust and immoral.

When I am full of myself, when I think of me over my neighbour,
When arrogance overwhelms, and all reason is defeat.
When the haze of happiness makes me forget my Creator.
Then, dear Lord, heal me of myself and my conceit.

And when everything within me is broken and worn
And I am way past hope or mending,
Then O Lord give me the strength to again return
And pray for those who still need your healing.

Breath

It pours itself into the world, giving life to man, beast and flower.
Giving off itself it taketh any form and name
Pouring through the trees, the clouds and the wave.


It floats, rushes, gusts, blows, drags and pushes
It can crush the rock and make rivers weep
It can lift up a storm, twist it and then gently lay it down to sleep


It doesn't leave a shadow nor shed light along the way
Doesn't make a mark or hold on to a possession.
Just wanders from moment to moment in arbitrary succession


It is the carrier of dreams,the whisper of tales, the spreader of rumour
Dances with mating butterflies and brushes against a star
The traveller of the universe, a rider of galaxies beyond the lighted far.


It lifts music from a reed and and gives wings to a seed
It dramatises and perfumes a rainy day
It powders the flowers face and gives a song its way


It caresses the kings pillow and kisses the dog in the street
Parts the lips of the great, the poor and the fool
Burns up passion like the sun and cools down the moon


It rings from Church and temple bells and sings through minarets.
Lifts up from praying lips and carries hopes all the way
For an answers to faith's many calls, every single day


It is the breath of God, the song of the trees, the wind of  life.
But when it ceases to kiss the soul,it  is said
Then man falls, the flower fades and the beast is dead

Whose Hand Will Touch Today?

A little boy skips along holding his father's right hand
While the left hand is cuffed to a tough policeman
On their way to find out how the courts decide their future.
Will it be life for man and boy, or life with a number?

Whose hand will you touch today, was it the same as yesterday
Did it bring someone hope, or does it really matter anyway


A beautiful hand  hung listlessly from under a sheet
The rest of her was totally scarred from face to feet
Burnt out with acid from another possessive hand.
Pleading. All she had done was refuse his demands.

Whose hand will you touch today, was it the same as yesterday
Did it takeaway someone's pain, oh it doesn't really it matter anyway


Hands reach out wrinkled and wet through the grey of a cold morning
From lost lands a shadow of a dead boat's soulless moaning
People seeking for hope on the wayward waters that roam
For a hand that will welcome them to what they can call home


Whose hand will you touch today, was it the same as yesterday
Was it to reach  out to someone, or does it really matter anyway

Song of a Special Child

I feel rain
I see a rainbow.
To me a butterfly is pretty too.
But I don't see it the way you do.

Time doesn't question
My every aspiration,
Staring at a face, or into space.
But, lucky me
That's where I should be.


I feel smiles
Sunshine kisses me.
You'd wonder why I smile,
Never would guess by a mile.

My way may be uncertainty
Stumbling along to eternity
Sometimes a cause, some a loss.
Me, I know
That's where I want to go.


I feel sad
Pain does hurt me.
But my body's not as yours or any,
Doesn't mean I need sympathy.

My life is so extraordinary.
Is it God's reminding note to sundry?
Life's not all fame, neither shame.
You see, I am not
Just another from your lot.