Nuggets of Poetry

Rifling through the not so well-equipped library at work yesterday, I was surprised to come up with a book of poems written by my onetime warden at the university hostel. Mrs A, wherever you are, these are lovely :)

there are so many songs
i want to sing
but so little time
to sing them in.

so, beloved,
consider
all my songs sung
in the brief whiles

when we become
to each other
tangible
and indivisible,
as we soar
on the chords
of the primeval song
which transcends the universe
and renders all time
measureless.

~~~

i wish to write me a poem
where i can sing
of things
that i cannot
find the tunes for...yet

i wish to sing me a song
where i can find
the lyrics for
all the beauty
that i cannot
find the names for...yet

i wish to paint me a picture
where i can show
all the pain
that haunts me
because
i cannot
sing
the songs
i want to sing
of the poems
that lie
unwritten
and of the beauty
that dies
unrevealed.

and so
i write
and i write..still

~~~


when the parting happens
there is a strange feeling
that the initial meeting
never happened
and the ending
renders the beginning
so unreal.

unreal
because it is over.

and the parting
remains real
because
it is forever.

~~~

old
is no age to be
any time, any place

age
when it is old
is certainly not gold

old age
is aches and pains
only loss, no more gains

it is
lethargy
of a body
which once held
beauty and strength

it is
desolation
of a spirit
which once braved
illusions

but that is old age indeed
when loneliness and desolation
today or tomorrow
no longer matter

~~~