warm winter overtones
of a sunset's glow
poet paints deep emotions
of an epoch's passing
...
Vanity is an integrated part
Of every artist:
Even their modesties are suspect,
To be understood
...
For you small child of delight
with your wild wayward cries
this world I would remake
...
Time has stood still in this village
where young voices no longer giggle.
Dogs bark, birds chirp, streams still trickle
...
this is not that hour that was,
nor ever shall be, what once
ran wildly -
with the wind's frenzy
...
How to exult a poem on this day
when you awake to see a little boy
washed upon the shores of your counry, drowned:
no words can remove these tears which have jogged,
...
Out of chaos comes Light: no words... a friend
wrote: it's true, for nothing can express pain
and agony felt by shock of fiends
who have ruined so many splintered lives:
...
Born into an age long flown into winds
of which no rerurn will ever revive -
glory
...
Great art will always be great love,
of finding paths to show beloved
its aching heart, keeping tryst
with something missed.
...