Friday, July 10, 2015


The rage of the afternoon sun, quietens the garden
Leaves don't stir and dead is the breeze
Flowers, they stand bright, yet tense and solemn
I walk alone, knows not the world, what one sees

Those songs over the wall of the neighbour's children
The games they play, their cries I hear
At night I know they are burning, faces ashen
For them I plead, but the world shows no mercy here

For the world lives, but yet to many lays dead
Their cries and whispers, to which I lend an ear
The fire rages within my mind, yet wronged is my head
"Please see, Please hear, the beauty of the story in each tear"

I oft wonder, where my world of dreams lies
For infinite is the beauty I see, Deep is the peace I feel
And yet this world seeks to wake me up; I don't arise
 My inner calm, how do I allow them to steal?

At night, the stars alight and this world sleeps; Sigh!
But learn I shan't how they forget, how they keep sailing
A storm in my heart, Rocks their boats not, Why?
From paradise to travel, I fail and keep failing

And still I shall not despair, for my wings are strong
Fly I can, above the castles of lore, through forests green
But there are shackles on my feet that feel wrong
I scream hard and faint, yet I am not noticed or seen.

I bleed and bleed, the brightness of the red, so dizzy
I feel not the pain of the thorn and still the roses fade
Afternoon in the garden, I sit still, my mind numb and busy
O' Asylum, my asylum, to thee; farewell, how shall I bade?

 Pic Courtesy - The Garden at St.Remy's Asylum, painted by the master Van Gogh , Photo Courtesty Hans Ollerman

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