Milking

 

The big fat cows with their milk-bellies sway.

With long loud moos they burp the milk away.

Predawn comes the milkman in his blue van.

Fills it in bottles for all to display.

Freedom

 

To be where I want to be.

To say what I want to say.

To look like no one but me.

To act as the senses play.

To think without any guilt.

To do what I think is right.

To let no emotions wilt.

To not surrender to might.

When I hear those soulful rings-

I shall soar on eagle wings.

Ticks

 

My heart wavers often times

but it beats with solemn pride.

Mind churns melodious chimes

for thoughts have nowhere to hide.

As fate rolls its cyclic dice

emotions flip and unlock.

To know the wise from the vice-

the soul sounds intuitive knocks.

Let the life-cards play their tricks.

I listen and read my ticks.