Author's Poems

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For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.

Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.

And now I know that we must lift the sail
and catch the winds of destiny
wherever they drive the boat.

To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
but life without meaning is the torture
of restlessness and vague desire,
it is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
.

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We are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.

One is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.

But age is the total of
our doing.
They have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.

Not their fault?

Whose fault?
Mine?

I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.

Age is no crime

but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life

among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives

is.

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Don't blame anyone, never complain of anyone or anything
Because basically you have made of your life what you wanted.
Accept the difficulties of edifying yourself
And the worth of starting to correct your character.
The triumph of the true man arises from the ashes of his mistakes.
Never complain of your loneliness or your luck.
Face it with courage and accept it.
Somehow, they are the result of your acts and
It shows that you'll always win.
Don't feel frustrated of your own failures, neither unload them to someone else.
Accept yourself now or you'll go on justifying yourself like a child.
Remember that any time is good to start
And that no time is so good to give up.
Don't forget that the cause of your present is your past,
As the cause of your future will be your present.
Learn from the brave, from the strong,
From who doesn't accept situations
From who will live in spite of everything.
Think less of your problems and more of your work.
Learn to arise from your pain,
And to be greater than the greatest of your obstacles.
Look at the mirror of yourself and you'll be free and strong
And you'll stop being a puppet of circumstances.
For you yourself are your destiny.
Wake up and stare at the sun in the mornings and breathe the sun of dawn.
You're part of the strength of your life now,
Rise up, fight, walk, be sure and you'll win in life.
Don't ever think of 'fate'
For fate is the excuse of failures.

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Your life is your life
don't let it be clubbed into dank submission.
Be on the watch.
There are ways out.
There is a light somewhere.
It may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
Be on the watch.
The gods will offer you chances.
Know them.
Take them.
You can't beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
And the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
Your life is your life.
Know it while you have it.
You are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

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Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

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When the moon comes out
bells mute
and paths seem
impenetrable.
When the moon comes out
the sea covers the earth
and the heart becomes
an island in infinity.

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I often repeat silently
that you must live in rememberance only
when few days are left to me.
What is past
is as if never was.
The past is a lace that
clenches at my throat to my mind
and takes energy from facing my present.
The past is only the smoke
of who hasn't lived.
What I have already seen
doesn't mean anything anymore.
The past and the future
aren't reality but only fleeting illusions.
I must be free from time
and live the present since there isn't any other time
than this wonderful moment.

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But we have left those gentle haunts to pass
With weary feet to the new Calvary,
Where we behold, as one who in a glass
Sees his own face, self-slain Humanity,
And in the dumb reproach of that sad gaze
Learn what an awful phantom the red hand of man can raise.

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Somehow the grace, the bloom of things has flown,
And of all men we are the most wretched who
Must live each other's lives and not our own
For very oity's sake and then undo
All that we lived for - it was otherwise
When soul and body seemed to blend in mystic symphonies.

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Full winter: and the lusty goodman brings
His load of faggots from the chilly byre,
And stamps his feet upon the hearth, and flings
The sappy billets on the waning fire,
And laughs to see the sudden lightening scare
His children at their play, and yet, - the spring is in the air;
Then up and down the field the sower goes,
While close behind the laughing younker scares
With shrilly whoop the black and thievish crows,
And then the chestnut-tree its glory wears,
And on the grass the creamy blossom falls
In odorous excess, and faint half-whispered madrigals