Author Archives: montecyril

The copious music of the guitar you play  is not the harmony to which I wish to sway  A tongue thinks its glory is in the way it speaks  You depend on my consensus, but silence leaks  Conversation is like a city’s moving conurbation  It swallows regions of discourse with no limitation  But even aContinue reading “Agreeing with a friend: A poem “

If we could simply count all the stars in the sky  would that be an omen that we will never die?  Or will we wait impatiently for cures from AI  and smugly sit on our laptops and never ask why?  The carpetbaggers spit honey for our morning tea  But our cups are brimming with theContinue reading “AI: A poem “

The limestone owl in the garden  reminds me of you  I have no vowels harden  in a love that’s true  It was shaped by love  and didn’t need any glue  I know you are all above  It is my conviction and my clue  There were times so many  in pastures filled with dew  And youContinue reading “My darling baby boy: A poem “

You live in my cuisine  in my heart’s magazine  My walls are stone boulders  For you, they are tin  I walk in wide everglades  in my dusty suedes  And when I look at the skies above  your silver screen never fades  In moments of memory  there’s a tryst with antiquity  In the rewriting of history  Continue reading “I look to you: A poem “

The late yellow moon still haunts the skies  Above the cumulus clouds, it solemnly lies  in its inertia, like a tethered swaying boat  In this convalescent glow, her ideas float  The night cops are wizards conjuring order  Like all-seeing stars in the silent city further  Above the black hills that are bare of even aContinue reading “Love by the campfire: A poem “

On the streetside, beggar’s crap and snot  Civilisation is a crowded parking lot  The road hog drives with eyes bloodshot  A teenager’s break is smoking pot  Children love with apps in their hand  Survival is stodgy with greed in its glands  The sucker ducks to a posse of packages  Hide your convictions, as we returnContinue reading “The world as it is: A poem “

I waited three scores, but I never knocked doors  I was all too sublime, for it to take its time  The raincoat of spirit is the vestment of honour  The mettle of duty at every humbling corner  When the messenger of hope calls on me twice  I’ll tell him that even if it’s too late,Continue reading “My trees have stood their ground: A poem “