If I died
Would you be there darling
To carry the burden of abandonment in your shoulders
I mean my corpse
Would you be there
So you could taste the long rainy nights
Through your tears
Tears of pain, maybe regret
If I died
Would you be there
There's no use in regret. You can't change anything.
Your mother died unhappy with the way you turned
out. You and your father were not on speaking terms
when he died, and you left your wife for no good
reason. Well, it's past. You may as well regret missing
out on the conquest of Mexico. That would have been
just your kind of thing back when you were eighteen:
a bunch of murderous Spaniards, out to destroy a
culture and get rich. On the other hand, the Aztecs
were no great shakes either. It's hard to know whom
BEYOND the dim walls of the shadowy Past,
A sweet vague host of fancies flourishes,
Like garden seeds in some rough hollow cast,
Which all unasked the kind earth nourishes,
And sends up tender blooms more sweet and fair
Than the dull Present rears with all its care.
There on its thin stem hangs the frail white flower;
Far sweeter now she shines within the shade,
Than when of old within the trim-kept bower
My heart bleeds; my soul weeps
For my life is manacled with
The fetter, desolation.
Had I known, I’d have
Scurried the very moment
I set my eyes on her,
For my old man warned me;
Oh yes, he did but little
Did I understand the worth
My posture is straight and arms on the wheel
But eyes on the rear with a guilt feel .
Imagining it different
where I could have been
Out came the noise of a gentle breeze ,
to put a smile on our face , "the nature’s heal".
Falling behind, I watched my thoughts
enjoying the ride, I sit back and observe.
It's been a while since I wrote about anything
Obviously I thought I could manage to get everything
As fast as I could
Not as slow as it should
I rushed over life's pages
Got myself trapped in multiple cages
If I could only express regret in tears
I would be able to erase all my fears
But oh no! I just can't seem to cry
My sense of humanity has gone dry.
I’m granted a boon, a hope – a spark
A sense of purpose, a reason to believe
Signaling the ignition
A candle’s flame dispelling the dark
Given the ardor, the fervor to achieve
Increasing in intensity
A campfire, pleasant and tender
Dismissing all chill, blanketing with comfort
For a start, please stop to start
There are things you are not even aware of
While time is hemming away at your parents
You forgot terrible things come in threes?
As time furtively alters the rhythm of your life
Yet you naïvely joke at the greying of others
Little did you know that not even yours is spared
In the painful existence of these unknown days
Waiting for the butterfly to spread its wings/
To shed the drop of water off the leaf/
But such is the vice of beautiful things/
They tend to hold your heart on a leash/
Then in a blink of my eyes and flash of its wings/
I have understood my mother in the present weather.
Her colourless, toothless, though contended a smile
Naif, fair, with dappled on face,
Age and height middled
Beautiful, my ‘maa’ she was.
In winter, she caught the ability to forget,
Forget her past, her present.... future-
Everything, but not everything, not me.
I was the nectar if bee she was,