Great times

A bottle of rum
You move your bum
And all will be
Hunky-dory
Whatever you will do
People may sue
You will be
never ever sorry
I promise 🙂

Harvest

Miles across the plains
Green and golden lands
Harvest season, hard working hands
Toils of thousand human years
Bearing fruits, apples, pears
Smiling, content, yeoman radiant
Faring better than all his peers

Pièce de résistance

thought passes through
light years of contemplation
ingrained in the fabric of the universe
after billion books were written, read and memorised
all in the name of love of I
it is never you,
if it is, it is never true
day will come and death will knock
the redemption door will stay shut
until I is left in a thick, dreadful rut
and a journey commences
to discover the soul denied
how body concealed and heart lied
life beyond self, sitting on the shelf
the first, middle and the last book
of devotion, selfless emotion, agape
distant evolution, of kind
not considered worthy of mention, before
what could have been the intention
of such worthless, clueless thought,
opinions of sages sought,
to defeat hope, desire of something before I
I commences scouting, shouting abuse
at green shoots, inkling of new,
uncharted galaxy, time bends, skew
perception, accept reception of end
lend a hand, be that of destiny
annihilate I, old adversary, good bye

Ocean

Heart opens, million tears drop
a vast ocean is born
engulfing deep sorrows,
drowning them deep,
feeding ruthlessness piranhas
letting joy dolphins to play jump,
Take a line, catch happiness
Kiss mermaids, rest dear heart
which has been taken apart
bruised, battered, too many times,
clock chimes, hour of tranquility
has arrived, after waiting for centuries