Poetry from 03/2017

21 March 2017


Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;

Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see

A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings

And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.


In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song

Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong

To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside

And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide


So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour

With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour

Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast

Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.





7 March 2017

Be Yourself, not me

Don't try to be me
and I won't try to be you
there is only one of me
and there is only one of you
Don't go around pretending to be
somebody that you are not
the real you is who you should
let people see
and not what you've got
You don't need to put on a false identity
trying to look and act like a celebrity
you are who you are with your own personality
that's the way it so just deal with reality
Looking up to someone is nothing wrong
but when you try to become that someone
that's where you don't belong
just be yourself and play it cool
why pretend and make yourself look like a fool?
I won't try to be you
So, don't try to be me
if others can't accept the way you are
then just let them be

Paul Adolphus

The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the herd. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning oneself.

―Friedrich Nietzsche

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”

― Oscar Wilde