Flowers

Flowers

I see  the  world, spin

Spinning   on  the  wheel  of 

decadence    and    self  inflicted   despair,

 I look  pathetic   at  those flowers,

near   in  the  verge of  bathos,

 crave  for  company

In   falling   chill,

Some   still   hanging ,  ready  to 

Ensemble   the   fallen  petals,

Rosy, bitten by  the  frost,

They  all  spin  , spam ,

  in this  Spinning  world,

 Snowballing    tardy

Agnostic    belief,

We    bask   in  the   chilly

Corner  tightened  to  the

Rope of    strong    Faith.

What? who?

       What who?

What  drives  the  autumnal  leaves  to  shed

to  the  ground  or be  heaped  to  a mound,

Scattered  to  corners  as  if   dismembered

Clouts?   Who  gives water  to the seeds

Or  breath  infused to germinate?

 Yonder  the  soulless   bogies  already

On  peregrination   to  their  pre ordained

Destination . who  infuses  life  or  breath

Into  the  dormant  seeds  to germinate?

Who   descends  to  give   most needed

Helping  hand  to  redeem you  from  sinners?

 Who   transforms  the   listless  to  be  agile?

The   list is   too  many.

November poem

November poem  2012

What    if    the leaves   fall?

I   am   slowly   atop   the   tree,

The   smart woodpecker

 Chirps ,pecks  the   tawny    

Stems, as if to rejuvenate,

  The   lonely   tree  reverberates,

  wetness   as if  God’s

  Mercy  Pouring   down,

The   gubernatorial  Sun

Hides  behind  the  clouds,

Deliberate  as if  to 

allow  them  to  release

The  down pour,

After  all  the  Sun

Is  The  Ruling  Rod 

Of  Justice.

Here   the   boys

Revel  in  November  showers

 paper boats   are    too many.

In   the  kitchen  grandma’s

Billowing  log  of  fire

Keeps   us  all  warm

From  the  shiver.