THE SOVEREIGN OF MY HEART

The love that I had been aspiring
All my life has turned to be you;
In you I have found the essence of my being;
Because of you, I am born anew.

The great wall that I had built
Around my heart is broken.
For your charismatic smile did melt
All the fret and angst I had kenned.

I do not know how to explain
The love I have for thee.
You have enthroned as Sovereign
Over my soul, my core, my entity.

I will teach the sweetest Philomels
To sing of you, my flame.
All the blossoms on the Terra will effloresce
As they hear the birds spell your name.

I perceive my own reflection,
The genuine me when I see thee;
The image that seeps through my quintessence,
And runs in me as my vitality.

I adore you more and more with each passing day,
That even if the moon turns red,
Or the sun turns grey,
My piety and love for you will never fade.

My love for you is as depth as the ocean,
That you would never find the coast.
My love for you is as the blue welkin,
That would never be creased.

As much as the stars in the Universe,
So countless is my love for you.
And I would clash the whole earth with the seas
To let you know how fervently I love you.

My love for you is like a pearl in the oyster, 
Puzzling at the beginning  hard to be conceived.
But once I'd known the greatness of my emperor - 
Exalted as a precious pearl in the oyster, 
I'm gratified  honored and proud of the reward I've received - "You!"

Dedicated to my most beloved  my dearest. 

The Veridical Gratification

Doctor Faustus, what do you think will suffice a man?
His wealth, his fame, or being surrounded by young women?
Will a man be contented
With the talents and wealth that he does inhold?

What will satisfy the humans?
A Palace full of diamonds and gold coins?
A kiss from Helen of Troy?
Or Mephistopheles as their pageboy?

Do you know where does the legitimate content comes from?
It comes only from the God, the most supreme.
For, he satisfies our soul with the goodness of the earth
And crowns us with his grace and mirth.

The everlasting God reigns forever,
Sempiternal is his glory and power;
To those who run unto his feather,
He will be the greatest refuge and unending shelter.

He sees all the men from his throne.
Nobody, nothing can hide us from his vision.
He is maker of all earth and heaven,
The almighty, the redeemer, the most holy one.

He consoles the wounded, grieving heart,
And mends the soul that is torn apart.
The righteous will rise, and as eagles will they soar;
They will rule the world, and as lions will they roar.

He delivers the ones who repent
And pours water on the people who are athirst.
Obey and follow the Lord, for, he will increase your honor,
Restore your soul with wisdom and will make you prosper.

Joy comes to the ones who seek him;
He is mighty to deliver us from the depth of the sins.
He lifts his beloved ones and enthrones them,
And fulfills the desires of their heart with abundance.

Repent your sins before the evil days commence,
For, the day of the man are like languid grass.
To those who fear him, he is compassionate.
His loving kindness is everlasting and incessant.

Remember your creator in the days of your youth;
For, the reward of sin is only death.
The covenant with Lucifer is horrific and terrible;
Doctor  Faustus, he will take you to the everlasting fire, the hell.

Inspired from Christopher Marlowe's "Doctor Faustus"

Love at my Lawn

As fiery as the rising sun,
You bloom in your own realm;
Each as royal as Queen
Clothed with excellence and charm,
With the loveliness of yellow and brown-
And with imperial elegance, each day you blossom;
As regal and tender as linen,
So is your simulacrum.
Your beauty shines at the break of dawn
And veils itself while the sun goes gloom.
Why don't you sprout at my garden?
Why don't you reveal your grace at my home?
My house is not as huge as a mansion
Or as sacred as a sacellum.
But, my little home will become shrine
If you would grow at my teeny farm.
I will adore you at my lawn
Each day and night, constantly, all the time.
While you reveal and conceal your lure that is divine,
Sunflowers, I will worship the way you blossom.

My Little Doll

I love it when your golden cheeks
Blush pink as I carry you in my arms.
So delicate is your touch as dew on the rose;
The flowers will secrete nectar at the slightest touch of your tiny fingers.
And will bloom as you display your immaculate smiles;
Will they adore you stringing together as garlands
And dress you up with their fragrance.
I adore the way you slumber in peace,
When the whole world around you rever your presence.
I never knew that I was fond of toddlers
Unless I envisioned your toothless simpers.
I cherish those moments over and over now, in your absence. 

AN ASPECT OF THE DIVINE

A million folds on her primitive face;
Each of her hair light and pearly;
Her green eyes gauzy and transpicuous;
She yielded a glance delicately.

From a single peek of her,
Percolated a myriad of words;
Unuttered, yet full of tenor;
Profound, fervid, deep and intense.

She stooped as she traipsed,
Because of her hunched spine.
She paused for a while and glimpsed,
And delivered me an innocent grin.

I stayed immobile where I stood,
As her smile pervaded into my heart.
It was something, rich, rare and unrivaled;
A smile I never bumped into in my past.

She held her hand out asking mine,
I stretched out my palm as response.
She clasped it, uttering locution;
And blessed me holding tightly my manus.

I remained all agog astonishedly.
For there teemed a hundred humanity,
Who came to that church routinely.
However, she didn't bless anyone, but me.

Why did she beatify me?
A girl she neither came across;
The one she never talked to ante;
I resemble her daughter or grandgirl, perhaps.

Or did she listen to my prayers?
Is she psychic or abstruse?
Can she behear my soul of souls?
Is she bestowing me my wishes?

Nonetheless, I have never happened on
Such a woman, amicable and warm-hearted.
She consecrated me and trailed from the shrine;
I stared at her till she petered out from my sight.

I felt like seeing God in her pretense,
Came down to the earth to bequeath me a reward.
For there had been none for me all these days,
And I had put all my trust on the almighty God.

A Place Called Paradise

I was a plutocrat,
Well-heeled, kind and generous.
My wealth was replete
And I was so magnanimous.

I was so compassionate
And had been a philanthropist.
To anyone that did supplicate,
I never said no, not in the slightest.

I was a good son to my parents,
I revered them a lot.
And a good husband to my spouse;
To her, I was true and allegiant.

Towards my beloved little angels
I was great and perfect;
Educated them fair and well,
Both in academy and in cult.

Apropos of my laborers,
I was benevolent and humane.
I cared them and their genre
And provided them precondition.

Above all, I trusted God
In all my vicissitudes
And I never contradicted
His law and his commands.

Wherefore, when I did ebb,
I was taken to the paradise
By a holy being - a cherub;
Because of my comity and rightness.

As I sauntered into the abode,
I beheld people dresses in immaculate white.
They seemed to be splendid,
Sanctified and flawless in sight.

While I went by the dwelling,
I perceived a man, more glorious,
More resplendent than the remaining;
Like the brightest star in the cosmos.

I inquired God about the comrade,
And why he appeared so godly.
His reply was poignant and grand,
That I felt quite lousy of me personally.

The man was neither rich nor opulent.
He had none for him - no family.
Au contraire, he was destitute,
Homeless and begged for money.

One cold night the weather was terrible.
So, he lent his only blanket to another homeless;
He got frozen by the temperature, too brutal.
He saved the man's life by giving up his.

We all contribute 'from' what we possess.
But, he had bestowed what he 'had'
Another Good Samaritan from the universe,
Whereupon, now he is in the blessed land.

Let love be without hypocrisy.
Let us give with whole heart and benignity.
For he who shows mercy
Will be crowned in the eternity.

Inspired from a story told by my uncle. 

HONOUR WORKERS

How will the Earth be
If there was no employee?
Bare and nihilistic will it be;
Abandoned fruitless and free.

The land we dwell
Would be parched and futile;
Either as wilds or swale
With wreckage, rubbish and swill.

There would be no habitation,
No lodging, sanitarium or shrine.
We might be living in cavern or den
Like paleolithic men.

Everybody and everything relies on manforce;
There'd be no food without farmers,
No cushy shoes without cobblers,
No transportation without drivers.

No cozy furniture without carpenters,
No household appliance without engineers,
No parturition without the help of nurses and doctors,
No education outwith noble teachers.

Technology might have been evolved,
But deprived of workforce, everything is nought.
Let the labours be celebrated,
For without them, the world will be void.

Words - the Ordnance

Long ago, there lived a man
Who'd always been a sourpuss.
For he never knew that our lifespan
Is dependent on what we confess.

He flapped his tongue
With gloomy, denial morpheme;
All morose, dark and despairing.
As he said, the outcome was a cataclysm.

Whatever he stepped in
Was a catastrophic mess.
He floundered and broke down
Unbeknownst of his Freudian slips.

One fair day, as he went out,
He purchased an offprint:
'Tongue and it's powers' it was about.
And he went over it.

He deciphered what his fault was:
Being a 'prophet of doom'
He's now got odds to change his lapse:
Cynism to optimism.

By the fruit of his lips
A man enjoys goodness.
But the foolish rips
His life by stuff he confesses.

Pleasant words are sweet to the soul
And healthy to the bones;
A man's stomach is overfull
By what he intones.

The power of the tongue
Holds endurance and inanimacy;
For it is infernal and searing
Which controls the subsistency.

What we sow, that we reap;
Let us sow happiness, faith,
Love, truth and hope,
That we harvest virtue and worth.

Joy comes to the man
With the reply of his mouth.
Let us speak nothing mean
Since our words possess strength.

Inspired from Charles Capps' Tongue - a creative force. Thanks to my uncle who lent me the book. 

MY FAIR LADY

She came as a doe
To a verdant meadow
On a bright summer day
In the month of May.

Her glorious emerald eyes
Made me swoon like rye;
The tip of her nose
Shinedst as dew on rose.

Her crimson-red lips,
From which honey dripped,
Carolled like a thrush
From a calm, clement bush.

The spritz gushed along,
As she chirped the song:
Which was sweet as lyre
And pleasant as myrrh.

I ran forth to the boonies;
Nighed the fair lass.
But she vanished in a swift,
As fast as a hunting cat.

Later I understood
When wandering in the woods,
That my fair lady was no human;
But the nymph of the terrain. 

6

TEENY-WEENY CUTIE PIE

His sleek merlot hair
Ruffled some feathers by the air
That spread saccharine fragrance
And the aroma of honeyed essence.

His milky white eyes
Would melt rock into ice;
Panic-stricken full of tear
Would pierce everyone as saber.

The tip of his nose
Shines of amber-rose,
As bright as the star
And rosy as salmon parr.

His tiny pinky lips
That twitches as he yawns and yips,
And reveals the toothless sneer,
Makes each of us simper.

Those chubby plumpy cheeks
That blushes roseately and meek,
Lustrous and brilliantly gloss,
Resembling candy floss.

His lovely dimpled chin
Which you admire and cannot lin,
Will make you plummet
For that little brat.

Those miniscule flabby arms,
Adorable, pretty and warm,
Will enchant you to hold
With spell and charm untold.

His miniature endearing feet
As crimson as beet,
Will surely make you flexure
For that cutesy whippersnapper.

Dedicated to cute little 'Jeshurun'  

DERN MIRTH

Every morning, you are the first thing that

I impregnate as soon as I wake up.

Even if I try to cease or combat,

Only in worse defeat I end up.

Your memories are like a whirlpool

That drown me in;

I am insane and fool

Who still cares for you inane.

I resist speculating your image;

And I finally turn out with tears.

"I will be with you forever," was your gage;

You denied, but I am still there for you, I swear.

I just keep on awaiting for the day

When we can be together as before.

I do not persuade you to stay;

But I will be there for you forever and ever.

FOXES, BEWARE!

The world was still,
Calm, serene and tranquil ;
It was full of bliss,
Delight, cheer and solace.
Then entered the fox,
Reciting to all, 'mox nix!'
But beneath the word,
Laid a dodgy sword.
'I love you,' he said,
To destruction it led.
The words of compassion
Were actually deathly potion.
He ruined them all
Who were naive with zeal.
But the ones wise,
Eluded from the artifice.
The absurd men
Tasted woe and bane.
Beware of the vile sly!
'I am there for you,' he implies.
Beware of the traps that seduce,
Lying behind his fake embrace.
Not everyone with you is true;
The phony fox will slay you.
Not everyone is reliable;
Look out for the guileful.
Be shrewd as the serpent
That lies underneath the orchid.
For there are mages,
With fury and rage
To pull you down;
So be wise, witty and lown.
Be sane and sensible,
Sagacious, sharp and insightful.
Beware of the fox!
Beshield yourself from the battle-axe!  

THE WINTER CHERRIES

I am confused how to sing praises,
When my life is in utter chaos.
I wander around the pasture
To find solution to my emotional pressure.
There is something that draws
All my attention, as I pass.
A foliage with long pine leaves,
Besides the frost they heave;
Their branches laden with snow.
Beneath the branches lying low,
A bunch of berries ling to the twig;
Dancing to the rhythm of the wind, they lig.
'The Winter Cherries' - I call them.
They remind me of decay, old age and cem.
But the burdened cherries hope for summer,
That brings joy, felicity and cheer.
For there are ups and downs,
So we will know about chaos and lown.
There are summer and winter,
To teach us pleasure and displeasure.
There are black and white,
To tell us wrong and right.
For we will never know of felicity,
Without being through misery.
The hue and blue will flee;
They will be replaced by mirth and glee.
Now I realize that sorrow will depart
Leaving behind merry and delight.

When I read Psalms 34, I doubted how David  sang praise when his life was a mess. So I just wrote it comparing winter to deterioration.