This poem was inspired by the continual warring in the history of man; with the most recent issues of Israel, Palestine, Iraq, and Lebanon, and, of course, the USA.
Detritus of Human Failure
Listen to the thunder of the cannons of war;
The undying conflicts of man in relentless
Pursuits of truth and justice, edifying days
Of nothing but the drudgery of dreaded souls,
And despatch of the deluded to unmarked graves;
Bathe in the rubble razed by the whirlwinds of war;
Coursing consortia of clouds of global havoc
That mock the misguided man, without a saviour,
Rise and hover over his soul’s parched, arid lands,
And rain, but the detritus of human failure;
See the ugliness in the willful wage of war,
Crying vengeance and retributions much provoked
By the sickening senselessness on either side;
Oh, man of much fond faith in priests and presidents,
For once rid of them, and ever in peace abide!
From the Unsung Log by Ronnie Patel; copy right Ronnie Patel 2006 (in continuum)
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
The Wretched Reflections
The Wretched Reflections
Oh stop, but at once, this foolishness
Of senselessly staring into me,
As though I were some strange oddity;
Come not any nearer, no further,
Lest, unready, you the mirror break
And step right into reality;
Not free of the life of illusions,
Not free of all the reasoned out truths,
Live on, make a lifetime of it yet,
Till the mirror but shatters itself
And with rare grace into me you step,
And cease to be your own creation;
We are nothing but by mirrors made,
And nothing to nothing we shall go,
When God, you and I shall cease to be
The wretched reflections anymore!
From The Unsung Log by Ronnie Patel; Copyright Ronnie Patel 2006 (in continuum)
Oh stop, but at once, this foolishness
Of senselessly staring into me,
As though I were some strange oddity;
Come not any nearer, no further,
Lest, unready, you the mirror break
And step right into reality;
Not free of the life of illusions,
Not free of all the reasoned out truths,
Live on, make a lifetime of it yet,
Till the mirror but shatters itself
And with rare grace into me you step,
And cease to be your own creation;
We are nothing but by mirrors made,
And nothing to nothing we shall go,
When God, you and I shall cease to be
The wretched reflections anymore!
From The Unsung Log by Ronnie Patel; Copyright Ronnie Patel 2006 (in continuum)
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About Me
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- Ronnie Patel
- Viimsi (Tallinn), Harjumaa, Estonia
- Born in Bombay prior to independence of India from the British, Ronnie Patel spent several years of his life in London of the fifties and sixties. During that time and since, sometimes in turn, sometimes concomitantly, he became company executive, businessman: fashion garments and poultry farming, actor, film-maker, writer and poet. He has lived and travelled extensively round the world for business and pleasure, and has been an exemplary generalist. Except for the occasional forays, he retired from active corporate and business life well over a decade ago, even to shed, at last, the ubiquitous euphemism: consultant. Among his other interests, which include scuba-diving, golf and bridge he has recently taken up oil painting.
