Yearnings Of A Butterfly

Looking up at the barren blue sky,
is a golden gilded butterfly.

Astride a jeweled jasmine petal,
it sits supple but still.
Wrought wings glinting,
like lighted lamps added in frill.

On a furtive frond of the palm,
that kisses the veranda’s marble arm,
lies the drab dull butterfly.
Its gaze covetous,
legs skittish sprigs.

The feeling, magnified, is forlorn.
Thoughts, if they were indeed coherent, insatiable.
It wants what its not,
beyond what it has.

Eyes like worlds afire. 
Antennas like princely shards.
Beauty so candidly captivating,
sung across the horizon by bards.

It doesn’t quite perceive, 
for its low in cognition.
But pray that it could
and see that the beauty it seeks,
cannot sustain without upkeep.

The gold needs glimmer to laugh.
The stones need rain to weep.

You, my dear, might be drab in vision,
monochromatic markings like precise incisions.
But you are alive in thoughts and dreams.
A multitude of color bursting on winged seams.

So be grateful.
Rejoice and take flight.
Carve out your ebullient existence
in your own dull dulcet light.

"Perfecto"

I see her through an incandescent haze

Past the cheap rum breaths,

Canoodling faces and skins ablaze.

It wasn’t the clothes she chose to wear

Nor the lustrous sheen of her hair

Its in the depth of her eyes

and something about that incongruous smile

The Master wouldn’t conceive of such a notion

To leave me aflutter with a foolish devotion

Even the winds stand askance 

You have to step closer they coax

or is it all that you want,

Not a hint of romance

Be kind for once, I retort

for she is nice to me,

the past is a clutter, future a parody

for now, perchance, just let this be

A poet is born...

The grass glistens, 

Grasshoppers bound from the sodden earth; 

Zephyr blows cool from north, 

Sniffing the pollens out of a flowers womb; 

Petals flash the vivid colors, 

Onto the morning light, 

That shines off the dew, 

Apples are ripe; 

Kitchen smoke wafts 

Through the air, 

Ever so slowly, 

Admiring nature's craft; 

Birds chirrup, insects stridulate, eyes stir in the soft glow 

And a poet is born...

Untitled I

I expected solitude

instead i stand amidst a crowd 

I wanted walls of gold 

instead at night, I shudder with cold 

I hoped a life full of adventures 

instead i pass on moribund commissions 

I craved unsurpassed glory

 instead i walk without a story 

I expected an easy ride 

instead i crawl on paths, narrow or wide 

but i still linger on 

for i know that light is just round the corner

tomorrow is another day 

and who is to say 

that it wont bend my way

Cuando era niño....parte uno!

When i was small, 
i was better than you all. 
on my cumpleanos, 
my mom bought me a gift; 
it was bourbon biscuits , 
kind that gives your tongue a lift. 
era muy feliz, coz i had it just for me, 
no one to share, no one to give, 
just the way i wanted it to be. 
step by small step, 
i descended down the tree-lined road, 
stuffing the urge,to rip open the packet, 
and eat like a guttural toad. 
i did'nt believe what popped in front of me, 
it was surely a monkey, 
dunno if it was a he or a she. 
I guess it was a he, for the monkey was big, 
squinty little eyes and smelled like a pig. 
the monkey bared his fang like teeth 
striking its paw on the ground beneath. 
when i was small, 
I wasn't really that tall. 
so I got a little scared, 
and he chuckled in delight,asking to be dared. 
I dropped my precious biscuits, 
the one that were meant to give my tongue a lift; 
now the wretched thief would show it off, 
in the whole of Dalhousie district. 
he snatched it from the groung and ran up the tree, 
now, he was sitting beside another gang of three. 
he gave each a piece and then sat on a fork, 
like telling his people, 
"bring on the champagne, pull off the cork". 
I was distraught and seeting with rage, 
why the hell are monkeys let out of their cage. 
the blasted thing was still smirking at me, 
"shoo off little one, go take a pee". 
such humiliation was hard to take, 
i wish i could catch him and turn into chopped steak. 
But no, I could not, 
because when I was small, 
I didn't have big enough balls. 
So I took the easier way out, 
and ran to my mum in fits and bouts. 
She took me in her arms and bought another pack, 
I looked up at the monkey, "take that! u little quack!". 
Hah! he couldn't say a word back, 
how could he? a monkey doesn't crack. 
I am glad i m not a monkey, 
for I would be jumping up and down trees, 
looking for leftovers, singing in the breeze. 
Instead i grew up to be a student, 
tense, shallow, tipid, 
a cog in fate's cruel instrument.

The start of an end

A day goes by as such

like a debt with a foreboding touch

reflections in the mirror bring peace

that someone knows me in this house deceased

the fruit goes ripe on the tree

only to be plucked, wondering a fate that be

the silence booms around my head

a solemn call to the years I tread

one by one they trickled by

now i stand aghast with world to defy

but i will myself to stay strong

much at stake for things to go wrong

'cause close to the hearth the hope burns bright

basking in its sheen I marvel the light

my hopes were meant to be as high as the sky

saw even the sky buckle over and cry

the droplets now awash my face

the hope is gone, leaving despair in place

The summer of U

'Twas the summer that I saw you,

the prettiest thing in the wide world

But soon the tidings changed,

Leaves fell as the autumn unfurled.

And so you bid your farewell,

caring nothing for the things past

Might have been easy for you,

but it left me aghast.

I cherish every memory we had,

and wish to dream them long into the night

But I dread so the sleep,

For its the nightmares I fight.

I treated you as jewel in the crown,

and i regret it not

For it was worth all my time,

and your smile was the treasure I got.

I wish the nightmare would end,

that I would wake up on the morrow 

and find you by my side again

But I know its not to be

Good things don't last,

that much I have come to see.

The way you trouble my thought,

like the golden field,

fighting an army of moth

bit by tiny bit, they pick at the grain

Leaving nothing,

but the soul to apprehend.

Pierce this soul,

with the longing in its throes

It cries for your touch,

but the absence only grows

I am sitting in the isle of thorns,

looking past the raging sea,

with these eyes forlorn.

How am I to get back, I wonder

All my hopes and dreams asunder.

A million little things

A million little stars shine above my head

A million little waves crash beneath my feet

A million little songs run through my lips

A million little throngs gather behind my back

A million little dreams reside in my eyes

A million little screams ring in my ears

A million little tastes swim through my tongue

A million little aches course through my legs

A million little cravings bear inside my heart

A million little engravings stab at my soul

A million little strings tug at my fingers

A million little wings sprout beneath my heels

And through it all I begin to wonder

If I had but one choice to consider

How would I choose from one to the other

Little is the difference,

even tinier the distance to cover

If life's about the choices we make

I am a dead man walking apace

A million little gambles for me to partake

A million little stories for me to remake

One beautifully ugly cylce

The little white feather, wound its way in the bleakest weather

Swinging this way and that, wind whipping like a cave bat

It lands on the lady's shoulder, a beautiful face and eyes that smolder

She glanced at the feather awhile, before swatting it with a smile

The girl is young and fair, no worries at hand no reason to care

She dances without constrains, a sinner among the saints

She glides this way and that, in high heels and a colorful hat

But then she sees the toad, egging her flair to implode

But the toad's no fool, there's to be no kiss like the stories drool

Its had many a rough encounters, judging by the way it flounders

It fidgets this way and that, like a mouse escaping a cat

It hops aboard the boat, the sails keeping it afloat

The boat’s a little rickety, its masts a little fidgety

Its seen years go by, each one harder to defy

It sailed this way and that, past the seas never flat

Now the captain stands atop its deck, bellowing orders to avoid a wreck

The captain’s old, by the way his skin fold

His neck strained with command, the sailors heeding his every demand

He looks this way and that, marching past the shrouds where the albatross sat

the sailors are weary he thought, the giant bird a feast for his lot

The bird looked at the ancient mariner, and perched itself on a high container

Hanging around the neck was a legend of old, it would fly in the air damp and cold

It flew this way and that, taking no account of the arrow being shot at

The shaft pierced straight through the bird's chest,

Leaving a single feather to detach from its crest.