Fly, butterfly, fly

butterfly-2837589_960_720

Fly, butterfly, fly, but slowly fly;
Being drunk with astral dreams,
If you try, and fly high, sky high,
Wings will break, and you’ll die.

Fly, butterfly, fly, but not so high,
But low and slow, so you may know,
The stars you see are not so nigh,
yet if you try and fly high, you’ll die.

 

Copyright © Dec. 12, 2018, Newton Ranaweera
Image source: Pixabay

Dreams

dreams-2904682_960_720

“Do dream, do dream,”
ear drums resound,
but dreams – are dreams,
they just abound.

A man did dream
and harpooned a Marlin;
then brought with him,
but a monstrous fin.

A dame did dream
marrying a rich prince;
she cracked her pot
and broke her dream.

A man did dream
to find an assassin
but found in him
the greatest sin.

“Do dream, do dream,”
ear drums resound,
but dreams – are dreams,
they just abound.

Copyright © August 21, 2018, Newton Ranaweera
Image source: Pixabay

Inspiration from Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea; Sophocles’ King Oedipus and a well-known tale.

To be a little star

night-photograph-2183637_960_720

Should I try
to be a big star
among a cluster of stars, and
contest so madly with ‘daggers-drawn’
to shoot some rays of light
but fade away with the sunrise?,
is the question that drones in my ears.

In contrast,
an inner voice insists me
so feebly though,
that trying to be a tiny little star
in a far, densely dark corner of the sky
and then to rain a handful of rains,
breaking the drought of darkness,
and giving life to those flower-hearts,
is what I ought to do.

Similarly, to be a big star
among a cluster of stars,
to contest to shoot some rays of light
and fade away with the sunrise
is not what I’d love to do.

Continue reading

My Own Funeral

moon-1301073_960_720
I went to the funeral of mine
To spy on if I were treated fine,
To see if my wife and my sons,
My brother and his fellow dons
All were wearing white gowns.

Fine speeches dipped in wine,
A single line from a poem of mine,
A farewell song sung by dames,
And silence with the rising flames
Were the ones I had in my dreams.

None did I see waiting in a line
Or any speeches dipped in wine,
Funeral songs nor pretty dames,
Sons or brother, or rising flames,
For it was one in a line of dreams.

Continue reading