Midnight Craze

under a bright moon,
man uttered a voiceless thought
—Silence answered back.

tempus fugit

Time flees mortal hands,
rapidly slipping away;
just like grains of sand.

se escapa el tiempo,
como granos de arena
entre los dedos.

le temps s’envole
doucement entre les doigts
—sables du désert.

Portrait of wry remarks

Cynic is he who
laughs heartily, not with Life
but at her, instead.

The most raucous musical box

The host with a flourish bids everyone welcome
to the gaudy and grandiose banquet alfresco
that is Life when unmasked.
The crackers surrender their colorful prizes
as hanging piñatas hide garish surprises.
The band is cacophony chiming delightful,
the names on the place-cards all parody spelling.
The wine is served lukewarm and sour!

But if still you should want to attempt the endeavor
of deducing some order from turmoil so lively
Alas! Then you leave empty-handed.

Respice post te, Hominem te esse memento

The parade tore air itself asunder
as trumpeteers unfurled their great fanfares,
so heralding the imminent thunder
of lordly stallions pulling gilded chairs.
This revelling in triumph no man spares.
Even in lofty Olympus so high
no god would dare claim men’s glory not theirs.
Disgraced were those who’d staked the Dux defy
yet the shamed alone knew they were to die.
A crown lingered o’er the general’s head;
stain and vice his godly robes did belie.
A slave held the wreath over him, and said:
Look behind you, your glory fleeting is.
You are but a man, do not forget this.

Rowdy Rondelet

Poet’s mischief!
Shenanigans! Tomfoolery!
Poet’s mischief!
A rhyme falls like a golden leaf;
a piece of fancy jewellery.
But half-rhymes are tomfoolery!
Poet’s Mischief!

Vagrant Villanelle

Sombre walls gloom through the City at Night,
bereft of those dreams that have now long-dried;
their hearts, ponderous, are thick with contrite.

They fought and strove for Life with all their might,
trying to keep hopes that have now long-died;
sombre walls gloom through the City at Night.

Their psyche, eaten away by the sight
of indifference of what would betide;
their hearts, ponderous, are thick with contrite.

What abounds now is Good Will turned to spite,
as Good Will finds no more place to hide.
Sombre walls gloom through the City at Night.

City Life, bitter under the dimmed light,
ate away the hearts and made them subside.
Their hearts, ponderous, are thick with contrite.

Deep into the Night there is no respite
There is only hope for a turning tide.
Sombre walls gloom through the City at Night;
Their hearts, ponderous, are thick with contrite.

Endeavour of life.

A slip o’ green grows
struggling, amidst a patch of
dry, deserted land.

Airborne Thoughts

Eventide. Sun fell,
from zenith to nadir, but
Sun rises anew.

Libertines, Tyrants, and Man.

If only Man could live like those other
freethinkers who exist o’er existence.
Libertines past humanity’s wonder;
those who love for its sake, without pretence.
But Man berates himself for such amours.

If only Man could live fearless of those
who dare oppress and punish other men.
Yet ’tis naught but o’ fancy an o’erdose;
Oppressors are no more than other men
and Man himself is the only Tyrant.

Alas, there’s yet more for Man’s sweet dolour.
If it be regarded in true candour
what he loves and fears most is ev’ryone.
Libertines, Tyrants, and Man, all are one.