Five December Poems:

1) A thousand

Years from this Era

The scientist, the astrophysicists, the

Anthropologist, archeologist, and geologist:

The psychologist, and the philosopher-

God has their weary bones, their souls in checked!…

They are but naked jungle hunters

In a primitive kingdom, with primeval kings:

Still a thousand years from their era in which, man

Is to be born into a clear field of space

To see and understand God and his cosmos!

-and the ample ventilation of those truly

Open doors, at each end of God’s Universe.

12-1-2014/No: 4643

2) Tomorrow’s Sun

I have no one to comfort me in my old age,

but my semi, old wife!

My children-stooped low-pass between

one day to the other!

Days to them are like chains of acorns that

have fallen beneath the pine…

I am content though.

The joy of these latter years has taught me:

Yesterday’s children were born for

tomorrow’s sun-

Born into the days of change.

I can foresee, imposing days of difficulties

for them, – in this new world:

which is growing faster than a blaze of fire!

(They’ll need our prayers.)

This new world, I cannot adjust to, it is too cold;

I prefer the warmth I came from.

This is my warning to them: fearful days are right

ahead… days that only prayer will suffice.

No: 4642/11-30-2014

3) Lighting Dead Lamps

It isn’t time makes us old! Not really!

Yet figuratively speaking.

It is lighting dead lamps.

We all will be taken away quite soon.

Now I’ve grown to be old.

It is living life bitter that makes one old.

And then, the lighting of dead lamps.

As if to relive the past.

When love was not dead; when

tomorrow’s sun, was for us, today’s!

Back then, back when we let the dead

take care of the dead, –

so we could go on living, this is how it

was… how it really was: but,

One by one we grew old, and to the old

the past is warm, as is the present cold.

And that my friend is part of being old;

And for some, lighting dead lamps.

No: 4641/11-30-2014

4) Time, Space and Light

If you could live at

The speed of light, – you would be

Living in the present-

The eternal present, like

The angels do, at all times!

No: 4644/12-1-2014

The Tanka (Japanese style Poetry)

5) Woman on the Elephant

The soul gets suffocated under blankets-

(this you must be careful, not to allow)

In dreaming it searches out of curiosity

Figures of the life, of the person it is

Incased, in -; the ones that appear then

Disappear! Embittered by his fate: the man

Who broods over his wrongs and mistakes,

His losses, without seeking God’s grace

-: now, mad as a hatter, with lust and revenge,

He has suffocated his soul-he is now liken to

A madman, trying to reach a woman on an

Elephant, whom is unreachable!… Thus,

The demons have succeeded in modifying a

Metamorphosis inside his soul, his brain

– The soul now is subject to the black hole

Of nightmares; another sort of dream life, that

Seems, a form of existence, for lost souls:

Souls with ferocious, and merciless figures

Dancing about inside their heads!

That appear and disappear; and now the woman

On the elephant is no longer there, nor relevant:

The devil has his prey in his pocket: he has gone

As he has always gone: after hungry men-

Who he intends to led away, because this is his way!

No: 4645/12-23-2014