A poem about the sad and unfortunate life of a farmer.

Destiny is a peculiar thing.

This is the way our life goes on always balanced. If everyone understands this, then more will appreciate the sacrifice of everyday food that sits on our dinner table. Its warmth and satisfying taste melting in our mouth to be part of us. The energy we need to survive in a world so mysterious, yet rewarding to mankind. A treasure we must store for our future generations to come.

A storm personified. Great little poem for any age.

If there are exercises that can be done by sitting and still can exert all the muscles in the body, then it would be cycling and rowing. Here are a few snippets on cycling.

The struggles of life don’t end with death.The latter is succeeded by decomposition of the body, a subsequent food chain and ultimately,the re-location of the soul to a final home:heaven or hell.

Cycling is such a great and cheap exercise that it is not been used by many who deserve to use it.

Love lost lessons learned.

Half a mile in, and my legs had turned to jelly already. Not a good sign. As I clutched my bike and wheezed for breath, I had half a mind to turn back for home right there and then – after all, I was putting myself through this torture of my own free will.

Father never die.