The geese fly south and leave behind
the bitter winter storms to come.
The gather, circle then they fly
a vee formation in the sky.
Exchanging leaders on the way,
almost as if a single mind
controls the flock mysteriously.
I watch and weep as they depart
I have no wings I cannot fly.
I am earth bound I can’t escape
the snow and ice which will confine me
with just my books for company.
Until my feathered friends return.
Their honking cries for which I yearn
will rouse me from my somnolence.
Alerting me to their presence.
I take my ink block and my brush
most carefully no cause for rush.
Inscribe my thoughts in black on white
to signify my great delight.
In my own style of poetry.
To hear again the geese converse.
Not in the style I wrote at court
but poetry of a simpler sort.
To prove I have not lost my skill
and dare to hope I never will.
Until the day they bury me
I will be writing poetry.
No longer in the kings employ
I use my leisure to enjoy
the use of my ability.
To write whatever pleases me.

18-Jul-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

Kushih style

ivor or ivor.e hogg

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/earthbound-for-m-lady-chitra-lele/