Inspired

I sit in this old empty room
all quiet and still,
it’s like I’m on the moon.

The only company I’ll entertain
are shadows and furniture
and my lonesome brain.

This restless body, needs not a bed
to rest its wavering soul.
It yearns to dream, to forfeit its dread
whilst awake in reality’s dome.

This raging, beating, fiery heart
dormant in a shell; unable to start,
needs an ignition to entice the flames
of passion and flair into my veins.

So where can I find
this potential spark,
to bring my mind
out from the dark?

To search the depths,
to scour the heights?
A route so bereft,
no trail to abide.

The answer, uncertain.
Its quest, unforgotten.

Maybe it is nearer
than what I had imagined.
I can feel it building closer;
it’s not from another planet.

So I look deep within me
and find the same heart
Which once failed its glory
has now renewed its spark.

“The closer you get to something
the tougher it is to see it”
-That is the old witty saying
and to this poem, gives merit.

Sometimes, we must delve
into the darkness of ourselves
and find that inspiration,
that reason for our continuation.

Course and Destination

Here’s the story, of two young folks
one named Scott, and the other, Rose.
They seemed to each other, perfect
and could live happily, if ever they met.
The Fates contemplated, drew out a plan
to have them meet, wouldn’t it be grand?So they pulled some strings
and tried their level best
for the day that would bring
Fate’s ultimate test.
The moment had arrived,
as along the days climbed.

In the library, they were to be met
“Accidentally”, as the Fates suggest.

Shelved in its place, the two reached for the book
and as their hands met, gave each other a look.
The Fates were dancing, eager and content,
awaiting their victory, now that the trap was set.
So let’s hear the account
of this story’s leading couple
and for once, find out
the purpose of this fable.

Into their thoughts, let us course,
First into Scott, and then into Rose

Now our hero Scott, gives it a thought-
“Ah, two hands, one book
but she’s a lady, I can’t be the crook.
To offer her it, is what I must do
What the book’s about, I have no clue
So why make a fuss, I’ll let her have it
And I’ll go further, maybe read a comic”

Rose, with a couple of winks, pauses and thinks-
“Oh dear, The book I longed to read,
will I ever get, or will he even need?
Three days I waited, for it to be shelved
by me I so want, it to be held.
If I don’t get, that book for use
I’ll have to search, for another muse.”

The Fates were at bated breath
while the two were at an arm’s length
Scott, kind as he was, offered Rose
the aforementioned book of prose.
She kindly accepts, and they both part ways
The rulers of Fate, are now in a maze.

“Why did this happen? What wrong did we do?
Was there some mistake, in the plan we drew?”
The Fates, confused, were closely speculating
while somewhere else, someone was smiling.

Destiny, she was high above, grinning with joy
as the fates had failed; and foiled was their ploy.
For, no matter what the case,
Destiny has her own unique ways

Destiny and Fate, are two different things
But both, together, our life they bring

The former, our destination, only we can choose
the latter, the direction, in which we must cruise.

So like Scott and Rose, if your fates collide
be open, be brave. No need to hide
for your destiny, is only yours to find.
Just get ready, ’cause you’re in for a ride.

Spring Serenade

Is that a tear I see you shed?
Is it of sorrow or of dread?

Before you answer me though,
turn, and take a look around.
Spring is here, its beauty galore!
In sadness, you need not be bound.

For the flowers, they are blooming
and it is only you, they are wooing.
And the sun and the birds
together, inspire these words
of happiness that I want you to feel.
Is it too much then, to make of a deal?

The butterflies, to you they plead
while waving across the wind
my awed attention, is what they lead.

The dew, as glistening as it is,
reflects on that pout
you wear on your lips.

Oh, little girl, don’t you be afraid
for to see you happy, is the purpose
of my little spring serenade.

So what use is it, to see you sad?
When a smile is what
would make me glad.

But I soon realize, that you were not blue.
For your sadness, was anything but true.

With all that’s been said,
And all I’ve hoped and prayed,
You had just bumped your head
And a fool I had been made!