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Reyvrex Questor Reyes

A Passionate Gardener To His Love

A Passionate Gardener To His Love
..................(With apologies to Christopher Marlowe)

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the gardens trod,
We'll stroll along the springs and brook,
On to some hidden cozy nook;

Red roses by your neck I'll hang,
We'll walk on grass that's newly sprang,
In bed of roses will you lay,
And not to worry of the day;

A tulip in your hair I'll tuck,
And four-leaf clover all for luck,
Hope that my pleadings up above,
Might move your mind to be my love;

The lark will sing its tune for you,
While swifts and wrens will fill the view,

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The Stalker

Talk of ill intent, or sheer coincidence
A stalker I've got, as events would show
She is fair, I might shelve my evidence
But as days go by, apprehensions grow

It was in the mall, when she first appeared
Right across the rack, she gave me the eye
Then the elevator ride, that we shared
All add up to encounters that came by

In the party I happen to be at
She danced, right after I got off the floor
It all seemed so casual then, I forgot
Long before that, she lingered at the door

In a round of golf, she teed off my mound
Following my game, she always drives by
And at times, that I chance to look around
Along the fairways, she chats with some guy

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Oceans Without Shores

As what my simple heart is wont to think
A journey starts when there’s a place to go
We’ll rightly ask, why should men toast and drink,
To quests and challenges that naught they know?
Your sail, just hoist it so
Once you've known, if where the wind would blow;

But trip of life is one of great unknown
You know not where it came, nor where it goes
It’s ours to wear as proudly as a crown
Or else, as ball and chain, with all its woes
How it starts or comes to close
Care not, what’s in between that's what you’d choose;

With every step have Hope, and never stop,
Why search when thinking not to ever find?
And then, why climb while thinking there's no top?
So in your journeys, have some joys assigned
Though not finding and maligned
You’re as good as arrived in heart and mind

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The Tempting Dance

There she sits waiting, with wine glass in hand
Quite demure, if not for the place and time
So, I whisked her out of this drunken band
'Take me home, ' she said as our watches chime

Her room's well furnished with, I think, the best
Then, when lights were low, she let music flow
As for me, I'm down on a chair to rest
Then I heard her ask, 'Can I dance with you? '

Lights grew dimmer when she snapped her fingers
Arms held tighter; the moment's urge persists
In my mind, the only thought that lingers
Is the two of us. Does the world exists?

In each other's warmth, our bodies now bathe
Pressed in harmony, as wind sways the grass
In our upper parts, there's still room to breathe
From waist down, if there's wind, it could not pass

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Rimes Of The Other Mariner

Captain, my Captain, find another ship,
You need not hit the bottom on this rig,
You were born to sea, on this maiden trip,
Make not your cradle be your grave to dig:

Sleep not, unhear the siren's lullaby,
But hum the Naiad's tune in streams back home,
Your lady waits, and may in sorrows cry,
Should we all turn to be the ocean's foam:

History cared not much, on how we sailed,
It's what we'll land upon, that soon would count,
Of all odds, against which we have prevailed,
Bringing the booty home is paramount:

We lost our ship, but never will our will,
Heed not the sorceress, the curse she dares,
Have hope, and let your heart with courage fill,
We still could swim, if we have to, who cares:

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The Dream

A queer dream it was that punctured my sleep
Thought forms everywhere, all that my eyes can take
Then, I dreamt that I rose up, wide awake
'Are you real? ' I asked the forms that creep
'Yes, we are, ' they said. 'You're the one that's fake.'

'How is that so? ' I asked in disbelief
But I recalled my readings a year back
About the soul, and my mind went back on track
I'm spirit, with the body its relief
That's some light I saw, now as dawn would crack

'Here, everything is real, ' the form added,
'Your world is but illusion of its soul.'
Strange that I've held what is there, to be all
Perception now seems, somewhat beclouded
How else will truth in seeking minds install?

'Even you is in disguise, ' said the form,
'Just taking on the shape you've been meant to be.'

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The Fruit On A Higher Branch

One afternoon, along a river bank,
As I rested near a fruit laden tree,
I felt the urge to climb, feeding my glee,
Or perhaps, 'twas the wildness that I drank,
Or the child in me, that yearned to be free;

A fruit dared me, but can't be reached by hand,
It hanged so far out, on a tender branch,
Seems it paled, from my eyeing, it could blanch,
Thought, I'll climb next day, with a stick or wand,
But that dusk, I bowed, as I head for ranch;

But the way that wills could, oftentimes, change,
Though my aim, next day, was to climb again,
Other trees, I passed, did my muse sustain,
And before that fruit tree came into range,
With ease, a basketful, I did obtain;

With wisdom to go on, seeming unwise,
I chose to head homeward, back where I came,

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A Fetus Speaks

How sweet the Autumn breeze
Wafting from my window
Before this Winter freeze
I can see skies are blue;
But how would I know
Or how will I
In truth, I lie
Even as poets do,

Saying life is a race:

How could I win? My chance is lame
How could I lose? I did not play
I could not even see the game,
Because I never came to be.

"To be or not to be"
To me is not a question, never
"To be or not to be"
I was not asked, how could I answer

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The Ballad Of Betsy

Betsy now pulls the cart towards sweet home that day
Her size makes pulling baby carts as mere child's play
She's huge, a Labrador, obtained from Russian friend
Trained by cop, we'll call Tim - that isn't his real name

Tim can slug between the eyes crooks across the street
His temper's short, but long the distance he'd shoot straight
His baby, Betsy pulls in cart as they would stroll
Today could be the day, she waits maternal call

So many pats, did Tim bestow on Betsy's head
As due reward for deeds of bravery she'd made
To Betsy it's worth all to life and what it brought
And with her newborn pups, she's bound for added worth

One fateful day, as Tim was out, the stork came in,
And for Betsy it looks like Fate did show her grin,
But as her seventh pup was out, a wolf came by
It bit the baby that so loud it now did cry

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