Where are those people now

Gone where those days,

Those, that we once saw

Humility not arrogance in the gaze,

Pollution not in sight anywhere

Strong and clear the Sun’s rays,

What do we get today, folks

Foggy nights and morning haze,

Que Sera Sera is true, of course, always

But, do we have nothing better to do

Than, to only set things ablaze.

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Bags of Goodness, Loads of Goodness

Why put needless limits on it,

Goodness is never meant to be weighed

And, the paths to it are all well lit.

Away from it are Danger Zones

Crevices, Cliffs and pot-holes,

Suffer you will in ample measure

If, walk you do on burning coals.

Don’t try walk the Oceans ever

Unless you’re a Messiah,

Prophets are messengers of the Lord

The rest of us, Pariah.

Goodness lies there in everyone

Sometimes dormant, needing a rap

For, often does it need a Conscience

That also, sometimes, take a nap.

Let the Goodness within flow freely

As does the river over cracks and crags,

 It’s inherent in

 Beware of the one

Do good, be good, that’s all it is

No two ways of looking at it,

Simple in its interpretation

Slip it on, it’s always a nice fit.

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that,

The author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

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Roam like tigers but

Is a Bedouin cry of old,

Stick to beaten paths,

And, keep temptation on

Enchanting is the

Ecstasy of another kind,

A million slots all up

All in each one’s mind

Much like a Crossword

The clues are all there,

In that labyrinth we call

They lie hidden,

Contentment, lies within

Why then, the wild goose

As roam we do, and seek it

In every other place.

Keep busy if its Happiness

Maybe a mountain-climber’s

But, on the ground a

Is the icing on the cake,

Sorry, for those who’ve

Try it and you will find,

The biggest thank you will

From your, awfully,

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that,

The author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

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There is no greater gem

But, where lies that

Never seen, never known,

In whose closet, in whose

If, some within me

Then, where lies the rest?

Whom do I invoke, obtest

To answer that which I

Where, lies my Soul, What

Is there a Soul, a Spirit

A Conscience

That awakens, when

Or,

Is it just Right versus

And, the noble mind’s

Caused by the insatiable

Achieve, While the “good”

And, to give it a

Answer me, O Lord,

Lest, You leave me

A lot more than just

Where and What is my

Soul?

Is there a Grand Design of

A purpose to Life

Beyond, living one's Days

As best as one can

Given, that it's all

Or, is it?

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that,

The author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

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When Time hangs, let it

For it nurtures you,

Relaxes

And, looks after you,

It’s not an adversary

It’s the only, life- long

The one who walks with you

And, The only thing you

For, your Time is all you

All else that you possess

Is yours,  but

Only relatively so,

Ephemerally,

While, your Time

Lasts, as long as you do

And, with you, too

So

Befriend it,

Let your Time want to be

Never leave you,

Never Desert you,

Let it feel your Pain

Your Joy, Your Happiness,

So that you never need to

Never confront it and say

“Why Me”?

We are wont to do this

More often than not,

When it seems to be not on

But,

Your Time is yours alone,

It does not pick sides

It has no other to pick,

Has no favourites,

Because,

It is only

And

Only, Your Time,

And,

It’s All Yours.

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that,

The author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

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We’re only as good as our last round

However vague this may, honestly, sound,

Like the speck that started as a speck

Only, to then become a dusty mound

And, What lies now at the bottom of that heap

The laurels, the accolades, that we all keep

Shelved, to harp on as time goes by

To lull ourselves to errant sleep.

Whether we’re Golfers

Squabbling with Wives,

Lonely Swimmers

With “change my mind”

Or, ordinary guys

Living our lives,

‘Tis always the same

And, eternally true,

Never mind whether

We’re twenty or seventy

We’re, only as good as the

The last word and that’s a

Best, therefore, to make

A never-to-be- forgotten,

To,

Bask in the glory of old

The winning ways and those

But, do so only when with

Then, get lost in that

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The author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

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No, a libertine I’m not, never was

Outrageous behaviour not my style,

Nor the “cuppa” tea, if you like

A wink never wanton, nor is a charming smile.

Mildly licentious is wanton not

Nor is warm, unlike hot,

Finger on the trigger is only a scare

And never, anything close to being shot.

Unprincipled, profligate, falls a little short So

Not quite “X-rated”,  within limits if you will

If you’d only stop fidgeting and just be still.

I’m just writing a piece of less-than- wanton verse

And, you’re all “edged- up”, ready to curse,

Reading, surreptitiously, in some anticipation, maybe

Expecting, from the Title, a whole lot worse.

Shame on you, is never what I’d say

For, we all have a bit of the Satan within,

If only the Good Lord above had kept the Devil with Him

We would have been spared from the evil of Sin.

If I’d called this poem, Fondly Yours or Warmly

So You’d be walking down a different lane,

So, it’s all in the head, wanton is You might

The curse of today Of “correctness” of all sorts,

Has robbed us of spontaneity

Curtailed, the wanton gaiety

Of the sudden, deep, human connect

Thus, missing the joy… while being correct.

So,

With the shake of the hand and warmly yours

Mild touches that wanton can never be,

I bid you adieu till we meet again And, you solve for

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that,

The author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

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Marriages, today, are of all kinds

Some short-lived, some lasting,

Some that bring Happiness's

And, some that deliver a pasting.

Gender too , not automatic

For, Time evolves and so do we,

What the Lord above intended

Only He knows, the rest a mystery.

Choice is choice, so must be free

Why must I fancy what you do,

To each his/her own, not debatable

And that, indeed, is very true.

The most colourful of all unions

Is the marriage of Rain and the Rainbow,

The togetherness congenial and accordant

The odd break or two, no separation show.

No greater display of colour and harmony

No greater matching will we ever see,

“Vibgyor”, is our name for it, the colours all

Tuneful as is a Symphony.

So, if marriages, as we say, are made in

Heaven Then the first must be the Rain and the Rainbow,

They’re a whole lot closer to the Lord than we are

And, they have a magnificent, eternal, glow.

The state of Marriages on Mother

Earth Now, almost a monkey- show,

Jumping around from tree to tree Sometimes fast and

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that,

The author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

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If, ifs were horses we’d all ride

All apparent there’d be nothing to hide,

We might all be truly one, you know

For there’d be nothing that would us, divide.

No hunches, no unfair punches

All black and white, no grays around,

No whispers, no glances, no false step dances

No winks, no signs, just normal sound.

No daggers drawn

All equal, there’d be no pawn,

Nights, too, would then be restful too

Fresh and bright the next morning’s dawn.

No Holy Barnacles, nowhere

No pincers around the horses noses,

Thorns that would protectors be

And take care of the pretty Roses.

Must everything make sense, dear friends

What then would you make of Guffaws?

We here stories that a chuckle provide

How about Outlaws and inlaws.

If, Laughter’s the medicine true

Then Jokes are what we really need,

What use the Profundity

Better, Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy.

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Kind words do a fragrance leave,

Long after you've gone,

Smell the hands of the rose- seller,

At night and then at dawn.

Sunset lives in memory,

The orange lingers on,

To dispel the darkness

When by storms you’re struck at sea,

There's little you can do,

Except to place your hopes and faith,

In God and your hands two.

Walk the morning dew if you please,

Get connected to the skies,

Make the most of the early breeze, And

A day well spent and a restful

Who is wise and who knows more?

 Note:

All material in this product is the intellectual property of  Ashok Sawhny and cannot be used in any way without the written

permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, The author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com