Lola’s Christmas

It was on a Christmas eve
when Lola Palola, all of six
sat near the little Xmas tree
scribbling down her wish list.

First was a doll with golden hair
like the one her best friend had.
A dress and ribbons were next
in the letter meant for Santa.

It was on a Christmas eve
when Lola Palola, all of sixteen
put the last angel on the tree
and laid the table with treats.

She walked with dreamy eyes
without a care in the world
smiling and sharing kisses
under the ruby red mistletoe.

It was on a Christmas eve
when Lola Palola, all of thirty
told her own children to believe
in the power of their good deeds.

As she saw their little lists,
she herself had only one wish.
That her love returns safely
from the war across the seas.

It was on a Christmas eve
when Lola Palola, all of fifty
saw all of her family gather
around the little Xmas tree.

The hearth was warm with fire
as she joined her hands in prayer
and sang with thanks in her heart
Of the joys of Christmas day.

In Holy Matrimony

Rain streaks across the skies;
Cupid’s arrows seek the Earth
wrapped in a white, misty veil
like a bride waiting at the altar.
A sudden burst of lightning flares
across the thundering clouds like
cannonballs shot in the air.
Hark! the groom has arrived.

Listen to the Raindrops!

Listen to the raindrops as they’re falling
from the grey skies on the window panes.
A chit chit chattering in the pitter pattering,
I can hear them calling out my name.

“Come outside and play,” they sing loudly.
“Get your friends ‘n brothers ‘n sisters too.
Splashing around in the rain is exciting,
and don’t forget to put on your gumboots.”

Trying to catch the raindrops in our hands,
feeling them run down our hair and faces,
jumping in puddles of water and sand,
shouting, we play with the frogs and snails.

Now the fire burning in the hearth is warm,
And a spot of brandy is inviting, too.
The evening skies turn cloudy and dark
While the rain is still falling on the roof.

A chit chit chattering in the pitter pattering,
can you hear them calling out your name?
“Come outside and play,” they sing loudly.
“Come outside and play…till we go away.”


Walk the tightrope to the end.
Don’t look down. Not yet, my friend.
Swim across the ocean wide.
Against the currents and the tides.
Fly across the great blue sky,
overcoming all worries and strife.
Run along the winding road for
at its end lies the true abode.
And when you come to that door,
The crown of victory will be yours.

Little White Roses

Little white roses
growing by the road.
Little white roses
with hearts made of gold.

Little white roses
though they cannot speak,
say much more than anyone
with feelings twice as sweet.

Little white roses
spreading love and peace.
Innocent white roses
never causing grief.

Little white roses
give the fragrance of life.
O erring, hurting humans!
May they be your guide.

The Piper

Piper, piper, play me a song
so I can dance
and sing along.

Piper, piper, I hear you now
and I’ll follow you
beyond the clouds.

Piper, piper, stop playing your pipe
for I’ll stay awhile
in this place o’ light.

The Angel

I asked if she
would help me
to cross the street.

My vision’s a blur;
I don’t even hear
my bones as they creak.

The street’s so wide;
I cannot decide
where to point my feet.

She took my hand
and like a lamb
I followed silently.

She left me standing
at the gate, wond’ring,
of this castle by the street.

“This is where you’ll be.”
She said to me
and turned away to leave.

I asked her name
and why she came
and where she had brought me.

“Your angel,” she said.
“And Heaven’s this place
Where you’ll rest in peace.”

The Apostrophe and Me

With the bright sun scorching
the afternoon skies at three,
I turned the page to
The Apostrophe.

Little did I know about
Grammar’s sinister plot
for the apostrophe to
put me in a tight spot.

Apparently, the apostrophe
works just like quick concrete
holding words together when
one or more letters are missing.

It appears in can’t and in don’t,
but not in pant and in font.
Wouldn’t, couldn’t and shouldn’t
would all be incorrect without it.

All’s well so far, but it doesn’t end.
For the apostrophe, with a friend – the s
is also used to show possession –
something belonging to someone else.

Here it gets murkier as the s
follows it if the possesor’s singular,
and if it’s a plural that ends in an s,
the apostrophe alone follows that s.

So if Larry had a cat that had a tail,
it’s correct to write Larry’s cat’s tail.
If he had cats, there’d be many tails,
and it’s written as Larry’s cats’ tails.

Give up already? No? there’s more.
What about children, men, women,
mice and geese – no s ends these.
Here both the apostrophe and s come in.

So it’s children’s toys, men’s shoes,
And women’s department all true.
Adding to all that confusion
is that most confounding rule.

Now it’s should be used as “it is”.
And here’s where the catch is –
It’s also used with no apostrophe
As the bird’s in its nest on the tree.

To apostrophe or not to apostrophe
that was the question you see.
Was it Karen’s and Jane’s bikes?
Or Peter and Ron’s fight?

I closed the book with bleary eyes
Not certain if I had got it right
praying to all the powers that be
to help me with the apostrophe…

It’s a Girl!

“It’s a girl!” they told the mother
who gazed with love filled eyes
upon her little daughter
for the very first time.

“It’s a girl!” they told the father
whose heart swelled with pride
as he promised to be her
best friend and her guide.

“It’s a girl!” they told the grandma
who smiled so happily
at the thought of having someone
listen to her stories.

“It’s a girl!” they told the grandpa
who got up and danced
as he held his granddaughter
so lightly in his arms.

“It’s a girl!” they told her brother
who clapped his hands with joy
as now he had a sister to
play with and share his toys.

“It’s a girl!” said the Wise One
as He smiled at them from above.
“She was made by all the angels
With things lovely, sweet and pure.”

It’s a girl! It’s a girl!
As she steps into the world
with a special purpose,
she should be nurtured

with kindness and love
and a whole lot of care as
she deserves the chance to
live, be happy and prosper.

The Choice

‘Twas on a glowing autumn evening,
there came at Stan’s door a knocking.
Two guests sat near the hearth
The angel of life and the angel of death.

One wore robes of the finest silk
like the sun rising over the hills.
The other was adorned in shades
of changing leaves in the glades.

Each put forth his argument
bidding Stan to take a decision,
For whomever he chose to be with
would stay and the other would leave.

“Life is like a stroll through
a corridor with many doors
behind each of which lies
a sea of possibilities.”

“Death is the end
of all suffering.
It is the place where
one rests in peace.”

“Life is like a race
through a puzzling maze
with twists and turns
of highs and lows.”

“In death lies the final
truth that makes people
equal for it sees no
barriers and no emotions.”

“Life is like a river flowing
through deep valleys finding
its way through stones and
changing them into sand.”

“Death seeks no deeds or
accomplishments for
it will eventually come
to everything in turn.”

Having heard them both,
it was Stan’s turn to speak.
He said, “Death is inevitable
and will certainly overtake.

But life holds experiences
in each and every moment.
The pain and the glory
together make the story.”

So, as day came to end the night,
he held the hand of the angel of life.
And, the angel of death who said no more
was shown out through the door.

‘Twas on a Rainy Night

Clouds in the twilight
Hid the Sun’s last rays.
Thundering gunmetal
with flashy electric trails.
Flanked with darkness,
Sudden came the rain.
Unpredictably, like tears
from eyes awash in pain.
Drops splashed all around
in the directionless breeze.
Cold, they hit the ground
pitter pattering mindlessly.
Racing together to form
streams of water and dirt,
uprooting great trees from
the bowels of the earth.
As Winds cried out loudly
making time stand still,
Night swallowed the light.
Only shadows were seen
That seemed to join in the
Dance of destruction
orchestrated by nature
in the cycle of creation.

Who am I?

I am in the beat of a heart that yearns.
I am in the pain during a child’s birth.
I am in the old leaf falling from a tree.
I am in the prayer riding on the breeze.

I am in the silence that ends the fight.
I am in the wrong done to make it right.
I am in the eyes that light up with smiles.
I am in the memories that haunt at night.

I am in the hand that gives more than asked.
I am in the sweat that completes each task.
I am in the snuggles on a grey, rainy day.
I am in the cheer that’s shouted on the way.

Who am I? I hide; I am hidden; I seek,
I am sought; I reveal and I am revealed.
Forever, like the precious treasure trove,
I am the reason for it all – I am love.