And still turning away I cannot stem memory’s tide.
I sleep fitfully, seeking escape not rest.
But sleep too has failed to blot out
The haunting image of your face.
And unconscious too I seek your closeness,
Like a moth seeking certain pain kisses the flame.
And like a picture aglow in bright colour is etched that night
Like a prisoner's scar thrusts angrily against all covering,
And ceaselessly he relives the moment of branding and smells again The abuse of his flesh.
I too am prisoner to the thought of you,
Waking, sleeping and ever.
It was a dark night I recall,
A dark night by the river as clouds sought to veil the moon's beauty,
Yet could not stop the crest reaching up for another kiss of moonbeam.
We sat holding hands, lovers, seeking bliss.
More words were heard than were spoken,
And the heart learnt the language of the eyes and bared itself.
Soft weeping wind in rainy droplets washed away all pretence
And I, ever voluble, was struck mute
By the words I heard unspoken by your eyes.
Do you recall?

Smoke from chimneys heralds the dawn of evening,
Warm fires light hearths, as the day draws to a close,
And I watch, solitary, from my pinnacle,
As men hurry home, their daily pursuits over,
The noise of cars, raucous shouts recede in the distance,
With the dawn of evening.

Each with his secret dreams, his hopes, his sense of futility shields.
As the deepening shadows encourage his imagination.
Between office and home lies a world of make believe,
When clerks become officers, and officers ministers.
When the weak become strong and the strong almighty.
Till the home is reached.

Familiar sounds shatter into bits all hopes and dreams,
The warm hearths, the smoke from chimneys,
The smell of food, the signs of reality,
Increase man's frustration as he prepares,
For another day of his humdrum existence.

The day is done, the night descends,
And I watch the morrow bring another –
A further realization of his impotence.

I remember now when you and I,
Would try to study side by side,
And of the hazel chocs I'd buy,
To bring you a moment's sweet delight.

We'd laugh and talk of everything,
Except what we were there to learn,
And I'd try into that room to bring,
The fires that within me burn.

I'd transform that little room of ours,
To show what we from life could take,
And clothe us in dream laden flowers,
To bring back to you what you'd forsaked.

We'd dream together and laugh aloud,
And when you were gone, my heart was glad,
That for a moment I'd burst reality's cloud,
That  had made your eyes so sad.

To show what I'd give to you,
Of life's freedoms that you had shunned,
And when I dreamt I thought you knew,
It's in dreams that life's deepest passions burned.

And when I was alone at home or where,
My sight could not your face behold,
No clouds of anxiety hovered there,
Your love would warm the deepest cold.

In lonely moments when I cried,
Your love with me will stay forever,
I knew not envious Fate's decide,
When and where Love's bonds to sever.

Yet no sadness mars my moments now,
What we have shared will ours remain,
You spoke of parting – in your eyes I saw,
The fires within us burn the same.

Love's gentle embers that once had flared,
I'll let passions breeze fan anew,
While you with Logic's dust have dared,
To colour your morrows in a darker hue.

Grieve not that this world has tried,
To make what you weren't meant to be,
Tho' smiling lips your dreams belied,
The pain was there for me to see.

I think not ever love let me down,
For we dreamers must change each day to night, Else how can we our Times transform,
Into a moment's fond delight.

Dusty spring days when blue skies are veil’d,
And life's songs on falling notes are scaled,
Seeking refuge then from lost desires,
A man into sublime unconsciousness retires.

Closed in by walls of thoughts on rocking chairs,
His loneliness with a glass of beer he shares,
And musing, drifts into silence no sound can rent,
Of memories, to days long gone, erects monuments.

And the froth bubbling incessantly,
Creates images and forsaked thoughts he sees,
That, shedding their ethereal existence,
From his mind into his room descend.

And soft words, uncontrolled, tumble from his mouth,
In drunken stupor lifts bleary eyes and shouts –
That beauteous rain tho' dying kisses flowers
(Reminds me of tears and lonely hours)

Which pitying heavens in sympathy have sent,
To help me this foreboding gloom transcend.
And that bird singing in the trees,
Reflects its own beauty in all that it sees.

While I, seeking solace in golden beer,
See this, yet my eyes still shed their tear.
In anger then his bleary eyes are clear,
Glass shatters and spills golden beer.

He walks *****, his feet stumbling still,
But moonlit raindrops a new courage instill
And changing shape the crystal drops he spilled,
Have now a new way for him revealed.

Lifts shutters and gazes at skies above,
Trembling fingers now light another smoke.
That rising leads him by the hand,
Guides him, stumbling to another land.

Where spring skies of dusty clouds are rid,
And budding dreams in smiling flowers are hid,
Bright birds in open splendour sing,
Crystal raindrops new songs of joy bring.

Where peace in gentle silence abounds,
And despair its knell no longer sounds.
In rapture shouts to heavens blue and clear –
"At last my freedom here is near,

For I have lost – there's nothing left to lose,
And the crossroads are here for me to choose.
To build monuments that perforce must crumble,
Walk roads where I perforce must stumble.

Or caress flowers that dreams untold,
In vivid colours shyly unfold.
To smell and breathe free air and sing,
And shut out the thoughts that despair bring.

Here can I that Spring leave behind,
Whose tortured memories scarred my mind.
For as Nature's children forever know,
There'll be springs again to come and go.

My peace is here, where from human sounds
Life abstains – but loneliness resounds.

In the loneliness of night
Amidst the rustling of the leaves,
Let me savour life's delights,
Here in solitude and peace.
As I walk by lonely roads,
The heaven's cast their mantle down,
Of sublime mists and with loving fingers,
Dress my land in darkness's gowns.
A lonely rickshaw pulls along,
There a scooterist honks his horn,
Tho' there is nothing left to beg,
Yet the beggar chants his song.
Along darkened paths by India Gate,
Those majestic trees lovers shield,
And still waters amidst rolling banks,
A mystical awesome magic wield.
Here I hear a frog call out,
It must be a lover's call he makes,
There a serpent slithers on,
In eerie silence not a leaf he shakes.
The sounds of humans here are strange,
Amidst these silent lawns and trees,
I wonder what that bird is thinking,
As this human being he sees.
Am I then a stranger here,
Was this not too made for me,
Grant me just a moment now,
Here to stand and again to see.
What you and I have lost my friend,
Grant me a moment more to savour,
Amidst these darkened lawns and trees,
Here to taste life's real flavour.
Take heed my friend, and look around you,
Moments such as these are few,
When hand in hand by silent waters,
We glimpse the paradise we knew

At last the day to night has turned,
Havoc wrought – Fate to its 'bode returned,
It's calm, yet a muddy wash remains,
Where angry winds in frenzy the sea had churned.

Strange I'm depressed, the air is clean,
The Artist's brush again portrays the scene,
That vivid in memory is now relived,
Through blurred eyes a distant rainbow's seen.

Is it pain or despair that drives me then,
To shut out all thought and seek my pen,
Or is it you from far away,
Who pierce the gloom with another ray?

It rained – And I walked alone
Along darkened streets till the kiss of dawn,
Awakened hope that long I'd thought was dead,
And dreams of another Time I'd known.

My eyes were wet – Was it tears or rain?
As I chose my steps to cause no pain,
To Autumn leaves who in the streets lay down
To rest – In beds of gold and brown.

Each drop that fell was like a chord
Of a poem I read, a song I'd heard,
In chorus the Rain its music lent
From far your voice the words murmured.

I saw again that path of brown
Your hand in mine, your eyes cast down,
Yesterday was gone we had our today,
That through all morrows would with us stay.

Doubt's torrents ebbed, torment's fires that burned,
Are now to smouldering cinders turned,
Blind love that groped a forgotten way
Is home at last, and come to stay.

Ah would the night its spell maintain,
And darkness' languor with me remain,
Closed eyes that these sights behold,
Shun morning's light and reality's pain.

As I sit beneath this tree,
And look as far as I can see,
Sun drenched lands rolling fields
That a bounteous harvest yield.
The farmers move behind their ploughs,
Toil and work with sweaty brows,
Then as tapering stacks they raise
Of long stalked wheat or golden maize.
No other sight so lovely
Than this, my soul, can ever be,
And a longing fills my heart,
To turn to dust become a part,
Of these magic fertile sands,
Of my land, of my land.

Now I watch with heavy heart
All those sweaty backs depart,
For the darkness now draws near,
In a sky of crystal clear,
I long to sit here all night long,
To listen to that koyal's song.
I trace their steps homeward bound
And listen to the haunting sound,
Of the flour mill by the creek,
As it chugs without a break.
The road is narrow, the road is dark,
As it winds along the park,
Where graceful trees the moon do seek,
And whispering winds to flowers speak.
A humming bee its day is done,
Now flits and frolics full of fun,
As it darts from flower to flower,
Sings a lullaby this hour.
The darkness deepens, the skies are clear,
As the foothills now draw near,
How stern like sentinels they stand,
O'er my land, O'er my land.

In the distance a chimney's smoke
(Gray'd the sky as it rose)
Where it goes no one knows.
My home is come I leave behind,
The sleeping flowers, the whispering wind,
The chugging mill, the humming bee,
And as I sleep, I shall see,
From beneath a towering tree
Gazing and wondering what more could be,
Beyond those sun-drenched fields and sands,
Of my land, Of my land.