your smile, the sweetest to feel in the cold breeze
the flaming warmth of your loving caress
to keep my lone heart out to tow from freeze
come and stay with me in your arms embrace

your smile i shall taste, on your lips so sweet
as eyes may gaze and in my heart, shall beat
the fragrant flowers in the garden to bloom
dancing and swaying in its full blossom

your smile brings my heart each day to a dream
how it brings joy to my life in a full realm
just lifting my spirit to shine my way
to greet you with tender caress each day

your smile is a heaven-sent angel song
that dwells in my heart where it shall belong
a music from the gusty winds so strong
that lingers the tune of love for so long

in an acrylic painting by suzette portes san jose

Image may contain: food


Dust laden greenery, planted
on a divider of the busy road, smiles;
with every honk of the whizzing wheels

Roots are fenced
by contrete and steel
That tar you along
with long and curvy roads
And you pause a smile from afar
Laughing at the buzzing traffic signals

Every shoot from the industrial chimney
Paint your face black.
Wilted, you crunch a smile
Till corporation truck
Muck you far away on a stinking hill

How you shovel
Your earthy smile
Towards a broader space somewhere
into the sky
It rain
An untold mystery to me

In your need.

Tools in a politic word…fools in the public world.
To different to make a fuss…to much alike the worst in us.
Poke and pushed by paragraphs…what you shall become is a must.
Caught up in the limbo between who you are and what others want.

In your need there is no intrest to call…in who you are nothing at all.
Forgotten or simply just ignored here…condemed before you even got away from there.
Seeking shelter from the rain of debree…seeking a life were you can be.
Beyond any horizon there burns a fire comsuming life in so different ways.

Rainbows and golden skies not made by any of God’s seed.
Exploriation and stigmatation in the name of your need.
The endless line of life made some with an endless greed.
The few holding the torch don’t care of anything but their own need.

Above all kind of skies…above all the hungry eyes they still tell their lies.
There is one agenda to feed…the agenda to make everybody to feed their need.
No room for you being you…only room for you to fill up by to do.
We create to feed the few…create a society deprived of love that they will eventually blew.

Tools breed to this world…fools made by all their words.
Too foolish far to be alike us…too different for you to make anyone blush.
What you become is such a fuss…poke and pushed into the never ending crunch.
Caught up in between what life is and what it’s all about without any need.

Rainbows and golden skies not made by any of God’s seed.
Exploriation and stigmatation in the name of your need.
The endless line of life made some with an endless greed.
The few holding the torch and don’t care of anything but their own need.


The lights change

traffic crawls past

the discount stores

the charity shops and tanning salons,

off-licences and bookies,

the barbers and Greggs;

Another bleary-eyed morning

drab and dreich,

the cityscape wears the weather

like a mourning veil

pulled tight across its face;

Shuffling off their coils of ennui

in dribs and drabs

the denizens answer to

the day’s tolling bell,


looking the worse for wear.

Rolling Eyes

How very silently, stone

Sits by the side of a road

Giving space to its vision; vastness

Rolling around all the spaces. Where

Threes grow besides

Human wants wheel on steps

Mother clutch her children on the pavement


The cry, dry tears on her cheeks

A silent stone sharpens its wit

Sitting lonely, encompassing all

with it’s rolling eyes

For Aaron Feis

Gunfire rang out on 14 February
once again.
Once again, echoing the hate refrain.
‘O my god, o my god!’ Screams rent the air.
A petrified boy texted his dad, things were bad,
‘There is a shooter in the school’.
“Cover yourself with a book”, his dad, texted,
thunder struck.
“Hide under the desk”, another parent replied,
horror –struck.
Desks and books are for reading purposes.
Why should they double as shields against gun assaults?

Aaron Feis, you were a friend and confidante to many
besides being a football coach and security guard.
Did you have any idea this madness was on the cards?
This brazen senselessness, this decimating of gentle innocence?
Blood? No, it was compassion that erupted from your heart,
as you lay injured, shielding innocence from a brutal assault.
Take a bow, Aaron Feis, you died a hero, may your tribe increase.
Your stocky figure hosted a benevolent heart; a soft touch.
You treated the kids as your own, loving them as much
as you loved your daughter, Arielle.

May the music of your love vibrate, drowning the crass cacophony.
Come, let us vow to shoot down hate,
kill that venom and malevolence decimate.

Feis, you were a metaphor for love; a colossal phenomenon.
Come, let us join hands and shun the gun!
Come, let us shun the gun!

( For Aaron Feis
Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, Parkland, Florida
14 February, 2018 )

My Blue Peggy Sue

my kitty Peggy sue
does always feel so blue
she yells and cries never says adieu
as she does recall a love in a hue
it all seems a fairy tale come true
here comes the story of my Peggy Sue

along the alley, she hops and creeps
rolls and bumps waking up all from sleep
one window threw a pink hairbrush
the color of her kitty hood crush
she took it to her box and stare all day
reminiscing her young love story

she makes a sigh and sings a song
it was a tune that her heart does belong
she walks and dances with head up high
facing smilingly towards the sky
a daydream that she loves so much
can’t wake her up even with a touch

it was on a morning break
when she needs a walk to take
a squeaky little thing was hiding in a stake
that smells too good for a fast to break
but it wasn’t the stake that makes her sneak
her mouth is watering for those that squeak

she jumps onto that little thing behind
and surprised what she was about to find
a well-groomed sleek fur of pink
couldn’t take her eyes to blink
a pretty handsome kitty boy not in blue
which makes her fall, oh my Peggy Sue

here’s another surprise that comes so true
he wears a lipstick and a heel on his shoe
he picks the little thing and gives it a leak
on his pink gloves, astonished she couldn’t speak
he gave his squeaky little one to her with a kiss
Peggy sue now knew he isn’t a pinkie kitty Miss

it was all worth remembering
the amusing pretty kitty lad she is dreaming
it was a fairy tale come true
when he does fall for my blue Peggy sue
each night they sit underneath the moonlight
as they color the night with pink and blue so bright

illustrated in a painting by suzette portes san jose

No automatic alt text available.

Pu-Tai (Old Fat Monk)


Old fat monk 
with a colourful cloth bag,
filled with woes of the world 
walking down a wonderful path.

Where people worked day and night. 
he would wink at them to bring the smile.
in the snow filled town of Japan
kids call him a Hotei. 

Rub his belly, to bring the good luck.
He would sit whole day doing nothing,
from one bowl he would eat rice of thousand families. 
and all alone he would wonder, one-thousand miles.

In the evening he walk back to the same old path.

He would bring candies to the kids,
flowers to the girls,
food to the hungry,
and love to the unloved.
those who find favour in his eyes are are few,
he would search truth in the white clouds.

If his sandals are wet, the rain would fall,
if he is found sleeping on the town 
bridge in the squatting position,
the weather will be warm. 
he would dance with his open belly
to bring the spring, in the old town.

The protector of kids,
the nourisher of weak,
our cup is full with your teachings,
it’s our capacity to achieve or enjoy the goodness of life. 

by Sameer Tembe

Absolve My Sin

What peeling, should I give
to my silent bud
No new light comes
to open up the space

Engrossed in utter waste
I stear my invisible bloom
What comes nought in stilled time
to that recess I deepen my darkness

I have purged, the conditioning
of the seasoned voices
that lure momentarily
the opening of petals, the rustle of dead leaves

What peeling, nudged my head
to nod a favour from me.
I have nixed all abounding
to absolve my sin