A lakeside end of day.

I went by walking aimless on the shore

My head heavy with thought

And my heart sinking in grief

My mind and body far apart

I sat at the pier drowning pebbles.

A little bird perched on a hyacinth,

That went along in steady breeze.

To take a trip across the lake

To drink and rest tired wings.

So I paused my pebble throwing,

To let it by undisturbed.


A shy hippo with snout out

To take some air yawned

Spraying about water in one exhale

Scaring off the weary winged traveler

Who soaring up high above water

Lifted up my hopes in its wings.

The pebbles my sorrows drowned

and trampled underfoot

the hippo back under water

The lake calm again I started home

From what would have been-

an uneventful day





This Christmas

No wreaths on my door this Christmas

No glitter on my walls

No candle to keep wait

Am a shepherd out in the night

Cold and half asleep

But my heart is well decorated

In unimaginable colour and splendour

With a picture of your face

Hanging on its tree twigs

And the thought of you

A big glittering star

On its top crest.

A house scented with love

Frank incense and myrrh.


Two oceans met.

Filled and overflowing

I went looking for a jar

To fill with my waters of love

An object for my affections

But still my water overflowed

And every jar filled to the brim

Broke too small for my gushing waves

Breaking banks I flowed by and by

From a stream, to the Nile, to the sea

And then you came along

And the tides rose high

Where two oceans met

No jars- waters too vast to contain.

The lover and the beloved has ceased to exist

And all has become one.


To Ilaria

Music was my first love

I have been loving you all along

Of all the tunes that cross my mind

You are the most beautiful note.

You have touched a part most remote,

The part of me I feared dead

Your soul’s warmth raised it

Like an hibernating breed

Finally comes from under ice

To the music of spring.

The part long tuned to stone and cold

A statue breathed on the breath of life.

O happy ground, sacred ground

Upon which you rest your feet

Blessed land upon which my eyes is set

My heart has gone ahead of me

For where you are

There I shall be also


My hands are dried and calloused

From farm work –boiled and bruised

Bring your soft immaculate fingers

And balm this pain away

With ten kisses of tender touch.

My mind is boggled to a pulp

All these worries are wrought

again those pale ghostly fingers,

drives away all the demons of yore-

with music softly and quietly,

over desert dust, oceans and rivers,

from trusty piano keys to a waiting heart.


My fingers ink stained and candle-wax burnt

stay up moving in a nightly silence

Filling pages with my emptiness

But your lovely fingers sacred and true

Those graceful ten maidens

All made it to the divine wedding

With their lamps oiled alight

Dancing upon the ivory and ebony keys

Celebrating the marriage of music to beauty.



Spirit of a dead poet.

I am possessed by the spirit of a dead poet

And now he shall use me as a mouthpiece

To spew words of love to his beloved’s reincarnate

And the flames of past fires reborn.


Say not a word I’ll be the poet for both of us

And imprint on your lips

Words that won’t need uttering

But shall be engraved upon the heart

And conceived by a most passionate kiss

From confessing lips


Whisper these letters from the heart

And hold them dear within your sacred palms

These invisible words that upon winter

Shall crystalize to the soul of a man.