Rhythm! a boring repetition-a quirk of creation to be bourn as a burden from womb to tomb-or an eternal melody rendered to thwart a humdrum existence?
a matter to sit and ponder-the sun rising and setting day in day out and why so the moon too
a bore for some-not for those that dream dare and die-nothing ventured nothing gained and those accepting gloom will lament and lament alone till the day of doom to froth and fume-like all others who may ask-why this and not that-the stubborn rhythm will last forever and for ever
let’s behold the beauty and glory of each passing day with no weighing thought of the past-nor imaging a wishful dream of a bloated future-a future that only awaits a concrete plan with lessons learned and positively thought-laid out for its disposal to last
On a morning wake-tossing turning-his thoughts a spinning-brushing teeth-shaving face with bruises bleeding-with a towel’s pat-eyes and nose still dripping-
half in breakfast, washes hands and stands aloft, scratching head-which way to go and what job is next
sees his car-drives off to office leaving his pretty wife and files on the settee-she dangles these at the door step-reversing the car in haste-bangs on tree leaving a noisy creaky buffer- proceeds cursing and swearing for that insurance card not in cubby-rushing back he slips on polished floor ending in a bruised and bumpy head-cursing his amused wife for a floor over-polished and still moist and wet
Nature-a world by its own-clothed in radiant colored apparel-studded with plants, animals, mountains valleys, beaches and seas-sights so precious and magnificent-forests ferociously wild-rivers and lakes that flow-easy in style-seen in pristine beauty bordering earth and sky-smells galore with living organisms creeping-crawling and chirpily flying a glow
This beauty on its own living longer than man-with man needing nature for herbs and likes-nature in no need of man
so let it be sustained for generations to be held in veneration
was it by a will-o-the wisp that all this happened?
a missive from Oscar E V Fernando – My Cup Has Overflowed
My Cup Has Overflowed – Author: John Paul Moore
I’ve never made a fortune, and it’s probably too late now.
But I don’t worry about that much, I’m happy anyhow
And as I go along life’s way,
I’m reaping better than I sowed.
I’m drinking from my saucer,
Cause my cup has overflowed.
Twiddling Thumbs Or Counting Blessings – By Oscar E V Fernando
On a bench in park-with sunken eyes-white in hair and long in beard-twiddling thumbs and in a tattered hat-a trouser to match-solving-solving a riddle that blocked his teenage mind and was stuck with him from then to now
how swift life moved from his teens to now like the clouds that fleet-at times dark-at times bright-passing nights and days with no joy in life-this thought bugging him times no end-
why and how suffering on earth with a creator so good and kind?
Revolving the riddle over and over with spasms in body-spasms in mind-with zero in life’s bountiful enthusiasm
Frolics and flows the stream-mid farm, dale and dell- In Succulent feeding the flourishing tree for ages past. Coarsened rough arms spread to heaven in rapturous swell, Beseeching shade for the earth so hotly parched.
A haven of rest for chirpy tweeting birds at nest. With soprano ed orchestrations at its best In watchful eye of doting parents each in attendance- With a vigilance wrapped in tender attention.