A Riddle

Legs I have got, yet seldom do I walk;

I backbite many, yet I never talk:

In secret places most I seek to hide me,

For he who feeds me never can abide me. 

Advice to a Lover

The sea hath many thousand sands,
The sun hath motes as many;
The sky is full of stars, and Love
As full of woes as any:
Believe me, that do know the elf,
And make no trial by thyself!

It is in truth a pretty toy
For babes to play withal:
But O, the honies of our youth
Are oft our age's gall:
Self-proof in time will make thee know
He was a prophet told thee so:

A prophet that, Cassandra-like,
Tells truth without belief;
For headstrong Youth will run his race,
Although his goal be grief: -
Love's Martyr, when his heat is past,
Proves Care's Confessor at the last.

Winning

He stood at the starting line
Waiting for the word "go".
He knew he couldn't win
His crippled leg made him too slow.
"Winning is not everything". His grand-dad said.
"Taking part is the best thing to do.
You're a winner if you try
And we are so proud of you".

One

One star brightest in the sky,
One rose reddest to the eye,
One the bitterest of gall,
One - just one - the most of all.

I am back

It has been a long while that I haven't turned up....
However from this day I will start using my blog to post some wonderful poems from anonymous poets so that everyone would love reading them