The Painter’s Privilege (Poetry Challenge: Self Portrait)

I see the beauty of the world

through hazel brown eyes

my lips speak the truth

at times in relative terms

my nose knows the foul smell

of dishonest statements, and

my ears frequently catch

whispers in many lingoes.

The narrator’s license.


My heart knows the pain

of the those not in peace

I sense, albeit faintly at times

the higher vibrations of love

my feet walk the crooked path

of continuous learning, and

my hands try, desperately

to paint a portrait of my soul.

The painter’s privilege.


  This is a poem I originally wrote in response to the poetry challenge: Self Portrait now going on at

Meercat Musings

Hello there! How are you doing?

I am doing pretty good, can’t complain.

No one in the clan disappeared overnight.

We are all safe and I’m grateful for that.

Our home is almost intact, some corridors are a leaky,

but I hope it’ll not rain in the next few months.

And there are good prospects for food today.

So I’m optimistic this will be a good day.

How about you? Are you hopeful for this day?

If not, what’s bothering you?

If it is a big-ticket item, I send you comfort and love.

If it isn’t, I have a question for you.

Is that, whatever it is, really worth spoiling your day?

When instead you could choose to live, play,

smile and do some good to someone…

Maybe you could start by giving someone a belly rub?

Just a suggestion. Have a good weekend.

Angel Too Soon

angel in the sky


Vicious it came

like a freight train

spiraling down

ripping streets of the town

Over a mile wide

nowhere to hide



and courage

Not a bad dream

no rescue team

could find you

in the rubble left behind

You’d moved on

someone’s beloved son

now high in the sky

left us all asking why

did you become an angel

too soon