THE RED RAINBOW

So many things in our life are contrived

And are never meant to be.

Fate  plays the cards of compromise

And we dare to call it destiny.

 

Catch a poet in such a mood as this

And let his vibrant voice be heard.

The reality of any moment is truly his

For the wise and whispered word.

 

It is  like nothing else in the helpless harshness

A wonder to take away your breath

That feeling of standing on the edge of darkness

As a  depository for all your loneliness…

 

As mortal men we take a route

And we follow a perilous path.

Happiness and harmony are our prized pursuit

Fire and  fantasy our wretched wrath.

 

I have travelled this far, this distance

To draw from the echelons of experience.

So bold am I to write this poem, with every sinew of my existence

And express these simple, solemn sentiments.

 

It is not an illusion in the sky I see

But a radiant red rainbow in the late afternoon

A marvelling memory in the shadow of the old oak tree,

A treasure of time for which any one of us would swoon

 

Clouds can block out the scorching sun

And raindrops can flood the earth

But when all things are said and done,

Nothing can lessen its worth.

 

Magic is the momentary masquerade of mystique

For something symbolic in its conception.

Utterly, unequivocably unique,

Perfectly poetic,in its radiant reflection..

 

The red rainbow means so much more

Than is visible to the naked eye.

Delivers a meaningful message to devil’s door,

And makes us wonder why.

 

Paying homage to the radiant red rainbow

Which adorns the silky sky ayonder.

A  spectacular sumptous, silent show,

A phenomena and a wonder.

 

There is a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow

If you care to look ever so closely

Beyond its gesturing, graceful, glorious glow

It’s yours to capture. Capture it and approach me.

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A POETIC TRIBUTE TO LEV YASHIN

As he looks down upon a wondering world,

Crowds gather for the festive feast.

Epic entertainment is about to be unfurled,

And we know what should matter most, matters least.

 

From humblest beginnings, of suffering and sacrifice,

Comes a football story hence.

Such is the immensity that it defies,

A ‘keeper could keep such presence..

 

Oh how a modern empire once crumbled, in time borrowed

And left a debt never to be repaid.

Those who loved, then hated, then sorrowed,

Are left to beg and bleed and forbade.

 

Make him not the scapegoat

For what has gone before.

The greatest goalkeeper of the twentieth century, unquote,

The only goalkeeper to win the coveted Ballon D’Or.

 

It is said a goalkeeper is like a national border,

The defender of everything dear.

The last line of defence, the librium and the lauder

For the sanctum, the serendipity and the seer.

 

 

There can be no greater tribute

Than that which is paid to He

Who was, admirable and absolute

As a goalkeeper was ever meant to be.

 

How many penalities has he saved?

How many takers has he outwitted?

Far more than you or I could ever have craved,

Russia’s Black Panther was well acquitted.

 

History cannot be rewritten

But it can certainly be recalled.

The memory of  a man deserves not to be smitten

But to be endured, embraced and enthralled.

 

Hey, great goalkeeper, readied for battle trodden,

You’re a watchman by the gate.

Lest it can never be forgotten,

The front line of your battle always lies in wait .

DELIVERANCE

I have no idea who E.S. Whipple is but I stumbled upon his quote in a school library. It was he who said that ‘a book is a lighthouse erected in the great sea of time’.

It is that quote which has inspired this poem.

Put a book into the palm of my hand

And I will be its reader.

Without any limitation to what I can readily understand

Or the fodder of the feeder.

 

Once just a thought, then written down, later published

To a waiting world not yet suspecting.

But in a thousand years could it ever be wished

That the prize of knowledge is worth collecting?

 

Books are, after all, the cradle of our knowledge,

If not a lighthouse erected in the great sea of time.

They are the benevolence of our cultured college,

Leading us to where we’re surely goin’

 

Without you, Book, as some part of my life,

I would be despondent and distinctly destitute.

Can there ever be a failing of mankind to permit such suffering and such outright strife

When the force and power of literature is absolute.

 

Gosh, I still remember that delirious day

When first as a young child, I could read.

How the blessing and good fortune of Gods grace came my way

And showed me difference between greed and need..

 

Books have an uncanny way of saying things

To you no human being ever can.

Deliverance is simply sourced from eternal springs

To every able-bodied man.

 

I see the lighthouse over yonder

As I stroll along the beach.

This is a moment to wonder

And feel a sense of destiny within my reach.

 

What if all the words ever written

Are no more than an inglorious monsoon?

Let rip the sudden storm,  unrestrained and unforbidden.

On this October afternoon.

 

The words have found me, as they will find you too,

So be gladdened and  heartily contented.

A poet must do what a poet must surely do,

Write passionate poetry unlamented.

 

And so I come to express my greatest gratitude

To that lighthouse erected in the great sea of time.

God has willed from me this mystical and marvellous mood

As I have put pen to paper and words to rhyme.

 

As I stroll further, I’m enveloped by a mist

But the shadow outline of the lighthouse remains.

I have written this poem now.  I have reminisced

And Deliverance reigns.

NEED A FRIEND

I need a friend who listens

And pays me due attention.

I need a friend who reasons

The rationale of my comprehension.

I need a friend.

 

I need a friend who reaches out

In every possible dimension.

I need a friend who is all about

The measure of my extension.

I need such a friend.

 

I need a friend who’s ears and eyes

To everything that I do.

I need a friend who can spring that element of surprise

And yet be so totally true.

I need that kind of friend.

 

I need a friend who laughs and cries

And on whom I can definitely depend.

I need a friend who is wonderful and worldly-wise,

I need that faithful friend.

 

I need a friend who sees what I see

And hears what I hear.

I need a friend who is everything to me,

Who’s honest, humble and sincere.

I need that friend.

 

I need a friend who’s the very fabric of my existence

And the essence of who I am within.

I need a friend who has zero resistance

To the gravity of my sin.

I need that friend.

 

I need a friend who touches a nerve

And feels as I do indeed.

I need a friend who’s possessed of veritable verve

To be my one true friend in need.

Oh how I need that friend.

 

I need a friend who represents an ideal

Of life itself on earth.

I need a friend who is not just real

But the calculation of my life’s worth.

I need a friend.

 

I need a friend who drives and motivates

As a spiritual pioneer.

I need a friend who thrives and necessitates

I need you now dear.

Friend, I need you dear.

 

 

 

FOREVER AND A DAY

Listen to the beat of the distant drum

As the morning message seeps through.

Phillippe Coutinho, EF KP, Lady Diana, my dear Mum,

This passionate piece of poetry is for you.

 

Every one of you will be mournfully missed

More than you will ever know.

So much is given; so much more is promised

But all that’s left is the evening echo.

 

Some things are perhaps best left unsaid

Because saying them so sorely pains.

Look up to the heavens instead

And pray let go of the reigns.

 

A heart can be broken into a thousand pieces

But the soul does not concede.

The wheel of fortune chances but never decreases

The measure of human need.

 

Go on, call me a sentimental old fool

Who am I to question it?  It might be true.

No more a poet than a simple scholar of the old school.

Phillippe Coutinho, EF KP, Lady Diana, my dear Mum, how can I forget you?

 

 

The pernicious poignancy with which

This deliverance is expressed

Calls upon the mortal maid who first submits

And then applies the logic of the test.

 

 

And so it is that 31st August is Forever and a Day,

The grasslands of my eternal grief.

I call on Fate to lend a hand and help me find a way.

It’s quite simply a matter of belief.

FOR MORE THAN JUST A WHILE

  • I want to stop being blind

And start being kind

To the one woman who’s always on my mind.

 

I want to show her my deepest love

With a huff and a bluff and a puff.

I’m so sorry if that is not enough.

 

I want with her to share

Everything.  Everytime.  Everywhere

And I want her to know I really care.

 

I want to be her closest friend

And never have to pretend

Our relationship can ever end.

 

I want to kiss her lips

And play with her tits

And hold her hand a little bit.

 

I want to look into her eyes

And see her surprise

When how much I truly love her she doth  realize.

 

I want her to know I’m here

And my feelings are heartfelt and sincere

For this and every year.

 

I want to make her smile

With satisfaction, splendour and style

For more than just a while.

 

I want to tell her things which are funny

And call her my honeybunny

When she asks for the housekeeping money.

 

I have written this poem especially for her

With all the meaning that it can infer

And I will never expect an answer.

 

But I absolutely want her to know

I never want to let her go

Because I love her so.

 

(I don’t believe, she says, with a tear in her eye

I’m not Rihanna.  So Why?

Because I don’t love the way you lie)

 

If only that were true,

Then my heart would surely bleed.

I do honestly and truly love you,

You are the one I want and need.

 

You are worth every conceivable sacrifice

A simple man can make.

Delicious, delectable, adorable, as sweet as spice

Even if your devilishness I beg to forsake.

 

Mighty men can have their jewels

But I know I have captured mine

A friend, a folly, a foe who stands no fools,

My bright and everlasting good morning sunshine.

A WOMAN I LOVE

She does not enter my world

And she is not a part of my life.

She is just a simple stupid girl

Who I took one day as my wife.

 

She is but a figment of my imagination

And our souls have never met.

She is the endless ocean of my desparation

And the magnitude of my debt.

 

She is just a wonderful vision I once saw

With eccentric, exciting, impossible eyes.

A woman, if not a girl i could completely adore

As a deserving sexual prize.

 

But she does not know my route

Or have any sense of my direction.

She is the passive prostitute,

Not offering any tenderness or affection.

 

True love is not something to be bought

Or barted for in heartless negotiation.

Forgive that she does not know that solitary thought

Which leads to our physical separation.

 

She is but a silent shadow

And a ghostly apparition in my life.

Who is she?  Who is SHE? I do not know.

The woman I love is not my wife.

 

And yet this is a woman I dearly love

With every element of my being.

But all of this, all of it, it is not enough

To compensate the feeling.

 

In her I have placed the greatest trust

That a man can render to another.

She is the unwelcome recipient of my lust

But sad though I say it, she is not my lover.

 

I have no idea now what time it is

Or if darkness will fade into day.

But the yearning for her kindest kiss

Will not go away.

 

This is my oasis,

The pain I must continue to suffer.

Such an existence as this,

Is there not another?

 

The moment it seems cannot be found

To bridge the great divide.

Two people are together by duty bound

But they are on the opposite side.

 

Tears now roll down my cheeks

Is a man allowed no shame to cry?

For days that are longer than calendar weeks,

I will love her till the day I die.

 

And if these words were never written,

Then she would never know,

So much is unknown, so much is hidden.

If it were not for the glow of the Moon Shadow.