In Flanders Fields _ by John McCrae

Lest we forget

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,
    That mark our place; and in the sky
    The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
        In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
    The torch; be yours to hold it high.
    If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
        In Flanders fields.


High & Low

High & Low

It is not that I have anything against high society.
It is just that certain things puzzle me.

Someone posts, what he writes attracts readers.
And among them a former high-ranker
Whenever this ex-official returns to this place
This writer-friend gets invited
To a buffet at a haughty hotel
And he feels high and elated

I cannot help wondering:
What if his fan were not a high-rank?
What if his fan should be living in the streets?
What if his fan should offer a buffet of leftovers?
Would the writer still treasure the encounter?
Would he feel low and not as flattered?


What Luck

What Luck

What luck what luck what luck
Sending money can be costly
We pay charges on both sides
And still our supplier have to pay
So we send via Western Union
The lady in charge is very nice
She gave us a very special rate
Saying it is for fair trade!




For Democracy
1400 have been imprisoned
This is what I have just heard over the radio

1400 protesters now imprisoned
Enough to silence the rest of us all
Wanting Democracy but not ready to fight


Your Love _ to Kailin


Your Love

You love was eaten in the Italian dinner you bought me,
With the 50 bucks collected in your violin box,
The money which you could have spent
On a soft pillow to rest your head.

Your love is in the music you played,
In your creations, for me, for us, for more,
In words spoken and written, and in words unsaid,
In your reaching out, to many, many a retreated hand.

Your love dazzles, radiates, vibrates, and ripples,
From the very inner circle to the world beyond,
And indeed to the whole universe,
For hearts ready to make space.