Poetry Collection
Verses on spirit, silence & the infinite
The Tree
The dusty win of the seed in its tendrilFrom soil that is its womb and tomb both,A prelude to its fu
Thy ‘Wind-Swept Uplands’
What old old ache stirs awakeThe tear that never left the grieving eye,What old old wound doth break
Thy Henchmen
What subtlety could we ever for Thee produce,We who wallow in this forsaken earthly mire?What nobili
Dream Twilight
Into a dream twilight I slipped and fellSeated on an edge of awareness,How long I wandered therein I
O Soul
What hope for thee dear soul marooned hereOn an island patch of awareness amidstThis baffling ocean
Worshipping Verse
Not to be sheathed is the sword forged,Nor heroes for the hearth fire made,Not to be unkissed a maid
The Ritual Year
What is mine to give Thee here, for all is Thine that doth appear,All that doth by labour accrue, by
Evensong
I mused for Thee an evensong to tameThe harsh austerity of the severe noon,Draped in verses of a ver
Make Home
Far recedes the thousand-voiced world,Faint grows the murmur of many cares,On some hidden perch I se
Thus I Am
What is man but a knot of forcesWoven by Nature upon loom of life,In all his works are found the the
Sun-Oracle
Dull is the air that pervades my scene,Not even despair colours the moods,No definite aim claims its
Anomaly
My reed is hollowed, worn out by the passing hours,The ego’s banner of agency stands tattered,Who or
Who But Thee
Of what aid is strenuous virtue or bleeding viceWhen at Thy whim like waves they rise and fall,What
Every Fallen Hour
The day perishes in the arms of dusk,The valiant hours bleed on the azureCrying to the moments that
O Beauty
Oh what is it that appears to the gaze nowFrom these flurry of forms a new outline,Like from a worn-
Figment
From the day’s hours I do gatherMeaning like a bee does honey,For this measly drop I do labourHour u
Cycle Of Spring
My soul is as a songbird cagedIn the confines of these framed events,In a bodily prison is it entrap
The Courtesies
Blest must be Thy halls, a wonder light-columned,The walls all frescoed with our story through ages,
Parable For Caution
The boulder hours we roll up the steepOf a punishing incline on a recurring day,Meaning and purpose
Typal Trials
How gravely the dawn didst greetThe waking eye with news of loss,Gone a clause of the mortal contrac
Clay-Born
Oh why dost Thou come to garbed thusWith chagrin and contempt and derision,Must it always be so sull