A Collection of Poems

The world is being run on time, by time, for time, and at no time are we free Just to sit and enjoy even the outward forms of the Beloved...

Setting at Savatthi. Then, in the morning, the bhikkhuni Sisupacala dressed... she sat down at the foot of a tree for the day's abiding.

When night draws on, remembering keeps me wakeful  And hinders my rest with grief upon grief returning  For Ṣakhr. What a man was he on the ...

Before there was a trace of this world of men, I carried the memory of a lock of your hair, A stray end gathered within me, though unknown.

The most beautiful thing I leave behind is the sun’s light;  second, the shining stars and the moon’s face;  also ripe cucumbers and apples ...

When the bride of our Lord has made progress  and has climbed up to greater robustness,  she experiences yet another way of love,  more prof...

I long for the land that is not, For all that is, I am weary of wanting. The moon speaks to me in silvern runes About the land that is not.

Ah, that I had lived in times tested by love, by war and by conquest, when friars, soldiers and desperadoes went off across unquiet seas in ...

Bandits Boko Haram, notorious religious discriminators Organized by the so called defenders of Allah, Killing and maltreating of human being...

Art is my part Money is your giant bow Jean of Arc is no longer alive but Jean of park is aiming at me