gone with the wind


to beauty is what life we made,

like lyric come, and winter fade,

for whom this diamond we have bade,

but love and lord and all his spade.

by now his glory could have gone,

from here to dawn, but she has stayed,

and now we’re left with all the songs,

and hymns and toms he often played.

as if for the first time


in everything there is an answer,

in your smile; in his;

in the way we laugh, when, like kids,

we kiss…

Don’t Call Me A Sinner


This poem is dedicated to a persian poet by the name of Rumi. A poem I read from a new edition of a collection of his poetry called The Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks inspired this poem.

Everybody talks shit,

I’m a shit talker too,

When I see a fool do,

What I never would!

 

Better believe I’ll spew,

The scrutiny I should,

Will it be understood,

I’m no greater than you?

 

Must be funny when,

After a second or two,

You will come to find,

I’ve committed that crime,

 

But don’t call me a sinner,

You sin all the time!

Go waste your breath,

While I taste my wine.

Whirling in Circles!


by Ashok Sharma

Whirling in circles, that is my game,

Wining and dining, sipping and laughing!

Timing is nothing, but only a name,

After this dance I’ll never be the same!

This is my happiness, running in circles,

Oh, of what else could this life be comprised?

But of two of my dearest and nearest passions,

Colors, like yellows, blues, and purples!

Yesterday, I abandoned logic for freedom,

Left my cocoon when I heard that tune,

I said, let me feel God, and I did,

Then I rose to the moon.