Naked

Naked we come into this world and
Naked we go out,
And In spite of all
Our coverings,
Little do we
Control or know
Of consequence,
Except with out a doubt
For our behaviour.

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Verse From a Dream State

Some abide
in the metaphysical
clouds above,
Some in the levels
below.
The questions are
How low ?
And
Which direction are
We going?

How do we know ?

It’s a question of Love.

How well are you loving?

Truths

Truths

I hope to have
written some truths.

Lies are so easy.
To pen

To be able
To record some truths
in the future !
That is difficult;

Lies are so obvious,
Not always cheap.

Easy, convenient,
Unexamined conclusions
Of the times.

Truths are not always so obvious.
Some take years
To ascertain
In the dark.
That’s why the best poets
Age, get so old,
With deep lines
in their foreheads,
or die so very young.
Some truths are never
to be,
cannot be,
known;
And only are present
in vague outlines,
In muted colours
Of the partly blind;
Only lightly,
Randomly,
Occasionally,
touched on.

Boatman’s Comtemplation

The boatman sits
In the bright sun
Wearing a tall black hat.
Crouched over
He plays
His stringed oar mandolin.
He stands,
stretching his thin
White clothed frame.
Smoothing a greying beard,
And taking off his hat,
Reverently
He contemplates both
Grace and the grave,
And all the islands,
And the shores across the way.
Then he deftly sits again
to play,
The new melodic moments
Eternal
In the day.