Neil Shaw

Andaman

Islands rising from the sea, misty images in the night,
Palm leaves rustle in the breeze,
A sliver of moonlight tints the sky.
Grains of sand are sailing high, carried on the wind,
Time, as always, passes by,
With no recollection of where it’s been.

Ocean’s waters rise and fall,
Powdered clouds drift by above,
Mountain streams come trickling down,
Playing melancholy tunes on vibes of stone.
Sun shines down on fields of green,
Sweet scents permeate the humid air,
Wheat fields swaying, keeping time
To an ancient rhythm, Nature’s beat,
No words are needed……. this part’s divine.

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Lunacy

Inflation is the whip, greed is its master,
Scheming megalomaniacs creating mass disaster,
For all of those people, psychological slaves,
Caught up in the whirlwind, a shuttle to their graves.

Life too complicated for mankind to enjoy,
Overpopulated, the Land being destroyed,
Hard to find a place alone, with room to wander free,
Now plugged in from dawn to dusk, electronic lunacy.

Wires dangling from the ears, fingers pushing keys,
Prisoners in concrete towers, away from Nature’s breeze,
Glued to screens for endless hours, not outside in the sun,
Better re-evaluate, for time is on the run.

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About The Way

I’m impassioned, yet bewildered, at how to right the wrong,
Put my feelings into words, and make it come off strong,
About the error in our direction, about the flaws in the plan,
About the disrespect for Nature, about the shortcomings in man.

We are creatures of the land, and the sustenance it brings,
We’re about the natural beauty, and its many wondrous things,
About the mountains and the forests, about the deserts and the seas,
About the rainbows and the flowers, and the joy of being free.

So I grapple with the words, try to make them come out right,
Ponder thoughts throughout the day, re-think them through at night,
About the options that we have, about the life that we could see,
About the balance that’s so possible, about the way that it should be.

Read More Poems From the New York Almanack HERE.

Spin Painting

Blood spurted out from pale nostrils,
White stars surrounded green eyes,
Rocks crashing down on soft foreheads,
Glaring shock, the result of hot lies.
Explosions occurred all around me,
The pole, for a moment, stood still,
Missions were burnt in a cloud-burst,
Sparks flew through the air in the chill.
Vines, breathing fire, began crawling,
While the globe lay there burning too fast,
Aqua leaves, off red branches, were falling,
Scarred women all wept for the past.
Kaleidoscope spun in the meadows,
The heavens awkward and still,
Illusions of love danced around me,
The cadence increased with the thrill.
Hot flash! Then it all started slowing,
Beads of sweat became salty and dried,
Flaming disc in my mind sank fast, glowing,
I just stared at the colors and cried.

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The Holy Braille

Not seeing, but feeling. Not seeing, but being able to discern,
like the difference between bad and good………
Feeling correctness – eliminating prejudices and hatred.
Feeling the joy derived by giving pleasure to others.
Feeling the goodness in man.
Feeling the splendor of appreciating and living in harmony with Nature.
Feeling the balance by controlling our population.
Feeling our magnificence, by breeding out the undesirable,
inherent, qualities in man.
Feeling satisfaction, by differentiating which technologies are important
and which are products of greed and shortsightedness.
Feeling pride in having leaders with these qualities.
Feeling inner peace – finally being able to see.

Read More Poems From the New York Almanack HERE.