Where the baa is heard
And the sound is bird
Where the flow is theme
Seen in running stream
...
The dawn slowly raises his laden lids
To let the new sun send her golden beams
The tiny creatures rub their dormant eyes
And life is fresh, a new rebirth it seems
...
Water Loo
once there was a man named sham poo
who fought in Dien Bien Phu
...
Life is to live
Love is to give
Beauty is to perceive
Please, don't deceive!
...
it was some silent wintery evening
as my feet took me away for wandering
along the pine forest down the river
the waters were dark, the forest deeper
...
mystic and misty is the state of trance
you dip in a frozen numbness of sense
a peep from the window shade ignites
a series of unpredictable poetic acts
...
When nature awakes
I start to dream
I start to ponder on poetic theme
...
if the antonym of yes is a simple no
then the antonym of death is Death
the verbs for me don't mean actions
they mean Actions in a state of Death
...
In the scorching sun of the wild Sahara
Where the dunes shower like The Falling Niagara
...
The moon is red on misty horizon
Within a dancing fog, and the plains
In vapor dozing, the frog complains
Among the reeds, where chill has arisen
...
A chanting morning to wake the drowsy world
Hills dreaming in the swinging branches shade
Dry leaves swaying in the finest breeze
Then the light waddled in the deepest cliffs
...
Of all the times i love one
A silent stream at setting sun
Errant crimson clouds floating far
And a rising star, glimmering afar
...
When The Baa Is Heard
Where the baa is heard
And the sound is bird
Where the flow is theme
Seen in running stream
When the rain is mist
And the eye is moon
And the river is twist
Fringed with the trees
Where the dove does croon
When the sheep and bird
Voice nature's chord
Chiming with the breeze
Wafting from the trees
It's here where pain is relief
Nothing from town to grief
It's the mountain call
When you're about to fall
Just take only your soul
And wing your fly and stroll
Among the mead and space
Poetry is there to embrace
Come with me and feel
Beside the flocks new thrill
Cliches worn out in streets
Fresh feelings got in the hills
I do not sheep herd
I am just writing word
And i mourn the years
Spent down with fears
If i knew the cheers
Got in virgin beauty of mead
Would never at home stay
Among sheep i would only die
When the baa is heard
When the song is bird
When beauty is word
It's what God has made