You may not always as you desire, succeed
Destiny might well have other plans
But, the passion for “better” must always be there
In whatever you do, both in spirit and letter.

There’s a lot going around in silence these days
That does not make a lot of sound,
No thunder, no lightning, no apparent warning
No origin, no trace, nothing found.

A vast and deep river is not rendered turbid
By the casting of a stone in it,
Darkness, never mind how severe and broad
Is never insurmountable if, the rivers of the heart are well lit.

Wear the mantle you own, torn and tattered, maybe
Why borrow a garment that neither suits nor fits thee,
Better the lowly , clean of heart and mind, both
Than the royal machinations of spirits, ugly.

The drop of sweat from an honest brow
The tired smile at the end of a long day,
Better rewarded in Heaven’s book of work
Than eggs of gold that chicks of gold, lay.

The swings of fortune to and fro, leap
False the promises that ease you into sleep,
Enticing the snow- clad mountain in the moonlit night
Easy the face for some, maybe for you too steep.

Let thy modesty and humility be thy face
Let your hair not fly like dynamite,
Admonish not others for your blemishes
Be nimble on your feet, as you fly a kite.

There are no giants among Men
Only pygmies and pygmies more,
If you’re drowning mid-stream don’t scream
Try prayer, and the swim to the shore.

God ain’t there with the Super- computer
And S.Jobs, without that can’t really aid,
So, don’t send your wishes for execution
That step might well be retrograde.

Downcast, is no way to live
You might as well seek a hermitage,
On the mountain-top somewhere
The Lord and you on the same high page.

If you can’t sleep try staying awake
Antidotes, do pretty well some times,
Chillies burns the tongues, we know
And, with burnt tongues no nursery rhymes.

Let Jack and Jill fend for themselves
Baa baa black sheep and they can play,
Come down the hill, in one piece
Or, in broken bits as they say.

Now, if I’ve rambled enough today
Try starting all over again,
I said, somewhere, didn’t I here
Corny is the world of Men.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)