Memory
the joy
and the misery-
would life
be better
if it were
deleted--
completely?

There's a time
    for absence
   as for presence-
   each with a different outcome

Time--the sentinel
     it's in the general
    not the personal

Love should not be defined
   lest it be defiled

Another day?
It'd be too late
only moments
to regret:

mission uncompleted
duty not executed
the promise reneged
the skills not displayed
the intended words unsaid
the inspiration unheeded
the love neglected
the prayer desired
not articulated

and what's left
is but the heartache-

the green meadow
where once in childhood
you and your friends played
on each bright morrow
might be parched
by the scorch
of time's uncaring sun-
and you'd find
every rose dead
and buried-

the stream where
you your paper-boat
once did navigate
might have been drenched
and what's left
might be debris and dirt-

the hidden tree
which you climbed
where you built
your secret home
might have been felled
and steel gate girded -

ah, how wise was Horace
who this advice wrote
Carpe diem---seize the day!
( reminding us
the day to celebrate
ere time would have fled
and we'd but live in lonely regret)

An old man now I am
through the past years
as I scan
and this I've learned:

time and life
for no one
will  they wait
if forfeited
what's left
is but the deepest regret

Time closes in mindlessly
but my heart isn't oppressed
its powers I scoff vehemently
in my self-sufficiency I rest--

though there's thick mist in the horizon
my path I'll boldly chart
adversity shall not hold me in prison
from fervent faith I'll not part-

life is the lacuna
and the indifference
it offers no anchor
in its nonchalance -

its sea might be stormy and rough
and my sailing might be perilously tough
but my courage will be enough
to lead me to the faraway shore that I've desired

The moors are sombre and dark
as though my heart's weariness they bear
melancholic is the moon,  even more the stars
the foreboding  mood pervades everywhere

I am lost in longing and reverie
where has love fled?  What has it to declare?
Is life but a lie?  Is hope in denial?
What's right? What's fair?

Through the rain-stained window I gaze
not a shimmer of light anywhere
only the haunting cry of a birdsong
and the sighs of winds in the eerie air-

sleep will elude me tonight
I'll be laden with my unrelenting care
destiny is not of my choice or call
my brokenness I'll still need to wear.

THROUGH MY EYES -
BRAHMS’S HIDDEN POEM (1857)

Women I love with my heart and soul
But I am not made for matrimony
A domestic life and its trappings
Would destroy my creativity.

Clara I would protect and worship
With my life - she is perfection -
Love I would blemish and defile
If I were to mention - ‘Give me your affection’.

Ah, my beloved Robert is gone
In his tomb my heart is interned
My mentor, my friend, my inspiration
Alas, how little I gave my master in return.

My music is Robert and Clara
Our souls are by destiny wrought
History shall remember
But would understand us not.

[The reference to Robert is Robert Schumann (1810- 1856) and Clara, his wife (1819-1896). Johannes Brahms lived from 1833-1897.]

There's no real escape
the knot can't be severed
wedded to life and its singular thread
happy, sad, wise or absurd-

how the wheels do turn
each different in oscillation
one is caught in dizziness
dazed in total confusion

but none has any power
the nexus to untangle
though it's tried
from any angle-

ah, the angst of being born
to live in the inevitable
despite the most sombre landscape
one has to face the most unendurable

I can't reopen this letter
covered with the dust of time
among my hundreds of old books-
reading it would only make me sadder-

the rose that's withered
can't be remade anew
each flight of the bird
can't be repeated as it flew-

how I wished I were kinder
ready to spare and forgive
despite my every effort
I couldn't in my bitter grief-

now a desolate old man
my lonely tears offer no relief-
life and time wait for none
once fled-  lost is every living gift.

Mired in the ruins
     of the past-
    the whys of life
    upon me cast-

    it seemed to be

   forests without trees
  no water in the seas
  
  no greenness in the meadows
  no light,  only dark shadows

  soundless voices
  chagrin,    no joys

  love buried
  can't be reached

  Now:

the resurrection
the redemption

the letting go
not wanting to hold

the whys evaporate
when the self begins to liberate
all doubts fade
life to celebrate

I don't need
any gift-
it's sufficient
if I knew how to live

Place me where you may
I'll find my way home anyhow
for a short while only you might keep me
you'll never be able to put me down

for I'm an act of disappearing
a doppelganger or conjuror
when your hands were to land
on my neck-  they would be scorched by fire!

When I was around
no one noticed, none came-
when I disappeared completely
they wandered in search frantically
and wanted to know my name-

gossips all at once went viral
many boldly did claim
I had hidden far away
out of some dreadful shame-

some sort of notoriety
I overnight became
their obsession over me
had turned into a hunting game-

'twas such a great blessing
to be in my solitude's frame
myself to own and cultivate
without being noticed or being called to fame

There's an unknown zone
in my heart's chamber
I struggled many times over
but could never enter-

last night in my troubled dream
a voice came to me in a whisper:
'  This is terra incognita
   your name we don't remember!'

It's the brightest summer
but my lonely heart bears
the sombre barrenness
of the deepest winter-

she doesn't and might never
know I'm the silent lover
every dawn I hide behind my window
as she walks on the same path over-

once we met face-to-face
a gentle smile she did show
not a word we spoke
too brief was the encounter-

years went by, so carelessly
I was still a bachelor
we met one day at the village fair
she met me and said: 'This is Susie, my daughter'.

I left my home in West Lake
        in the sunshine of my youth
        the world to discover-
        mum wept and said: 'Do be good'.

       I consoled her and dad:
      'Your ways I'll follow in my sojourn
      a letter home I'll send every week
      I'll do you both proud--be of no concern'.

     A village -school I became
     Confucian culture I taught
      also the best of Tang and Sung poetry
      all my pupils found in rapture wrapped.

     The salary was poor
     in a abandoned barn I slept
     reading at night in candle-light
     hardship I did endure and accept.

    The beautiful daughter of the headmaster
    by the green summer- field I met
   ' So delightful are the poems you wrote':
     (to me with beaming eyes) she lovingly said.
  
     Her picture I sent to mum and dad gladly
      'Ming, you're no longer young'. they confided
     ' it 's time you settled down- Mei is so pretty-
     we hope you'll be married ere we're dead'

    Mei came to the barn one early night
    to her my poems I read:
    her eyes welled in tears
   '  I love you- so very  much' she suddenly said.
      
     Two years quickly passed by
     Mei's dad from cancer suffered
     ' Ming, you're like a son to me
       take over from me'  he pleaded with a look so sad.
      
     On a  sunny day Mei and I tied the knot
     mum and dad travelled 8,000 li* and attended
     we had the village's Chief and all the dignitaries' patronage
     the event was the most ever celebrated.
    
  * the Chinese mile, 500 metres

Bitterest winter
   all cottage windows are shut
   faint violin strains

Pale leaves fall silently in the dead of winter
I realise I have lived far too long
I was once a bold and outgoing singer
but no longer has life left me any single song-

in the night's thickest snow I wander
the heartless winds they blow loud and strong
tears of forlorn love on icy rocks they flounder
in this chilling hour I weep,  to none do I belong

In response to a Post by someone:

'Eckhart Tolle, after 27 years of acute depression, overcame this, in a state of bliss in ONE DAY. Is that possible?'

We are unhappy as we hold ourselves too seriously, too tightly, too selfishly, too judgementally.

In Zen and Taoism, we get rid of our ego, we don’t have fixated thinking, we accept life in all its facets—joy and sorrow, the pleasant and unpleasant—-we follow the flow of life and don’t fight against it. In our centred-ness, we hold our equilibrium in equanimity.

Ingredients making for happiness and sane living, in any culture, are fundamentally the same:

acceptance, kindness and compassion, love, generosity, simplicity, humility, patience, insight, forbearance, magnanimity, forgiveness, humour and in adoration of the transcendental, the divine and all that which is beautiful and life-enhancing.

This is a lifelong journey—we don’t need to lean on any person or their thinking.

ET has many critics, but also a huge following-
it shows the extent of existential angst of so many people in our anxious, restless and confused world.

But we walk away

when life still  holds more-

indeed every day-

for us to explore

Winter is not yet

autumn hasn't gone to sleep

she has memories to keep

Be patient, wait, listen, be still, be kind, think of others more than your own self, give a smile to everyone, drink your coffee and thank the barista, tip the waitress, donate $10 to the Red Cross, buy a rose for your wife, read a poem of Keats, listen to a piece of Mozart and be grateful you are blessed

Don't let it

get you down*

whether it's tomorrow

or the moment now-



still is my heart

whether events delight or frown

to faith I dearly hold

I'm unshaken on my very ground

I do just the possible
I don't need to sparkle

Short sentences do me well

I don't labour over what to tell

You can't rush
into your inner sanctum
demanding an answer
its sacredness you'd defile
and be left bereft, no better-

enter humbly you must
in purity of soul and heart
its door will gladly welcome
of you it'll be a willing part-

your dreams it will readily hug
the veil will then be lifted
never again would you
be left abandoned
in the lonely dark.

You must do your thing

and as for me,  mine

but if our paths do ever meet

that would be really fine

Let us mend ourselves first

before we can reach out to others

I am a humanist.

Like John Keats, I don't have a religion
but these words of his touched me profoundly:

“I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the Truth of the imagination.”

He died in spiritual doubt but seemed to believe in immortality.

I prefer a biological extinction---
all that I have felt and experienced in my life is enough--
why would I need another life?

My last 6 words will be:  It is just this---no more

I'll hold faithfully to silence

words -they don't solace confer-

the heart feels its mysterious radiance

the truth of life it will richly discover

Freedom in the air

early flight of birds in cheer

heralds in new day

Should I not

or should I?

and do I

know why?

No time for lament

to the heart beauty beckons

flowers smile in fields

Am I not more

the cause of my own suffering

than that occasioned by

others or any other human being?

We will all grow old one day

and many are at this stage already

the hours are rushing away

slipping into the edge of eternity



but solace your love shall give me

my heart weeps and the right words I can't say

I recall our days of youth we spent so rapturously

to sleep in peace now is all that I should pray

The genius doesn't have

         the skills of the plumber

         when your toilet is stuck

          you'd choose the latter

I've no reason to frown

just because something doesn't suit me

I'd not offend anyone who's around

that would be travesty!

Silence in the room

music, books and coffee

such great company

He said to me:

let's have a conversation--

I should let you know beforehand

with regard to opinions, I am very stubborn

I swim in a stream in a faraway forest known to none.  I found it in my youth and kept it a deep secret.  I know I have been selfish--it's too good to be shared.

I know if there were another person with me, we would talk and break the sacred silence and solitude of the place.

This is my retreat, my sanctuary, my little slice of heaven...
If I were dying the next day, I will have another swim there--
I would have touched the edge of eternity and die content and happy upon the morrow.

Some will like you

others, perhaps not

if you like yourself- you can keep

everyone else from your thought

If I should want

let it not exceed

the number of fingers

on my one hand

I see better

when I walk away

from the self

I was yesterday

Join me in the dance

with fulness of soul and heart

to last beyond time

I am neither

pro nor con

either leads me nowhere

only openness I stand upon

Though I'm walking away

in my heart you I will yet bear

perchance we'll meet again in some day

you'll still find me the same there

Lone sunset figure

walking home after the plough

watched by sky and trees

I was there

here I am now

nothing has changed

no 'somehow'



but the heart's purity

to which I bow

love draws us closer

l'll never let you down

Sometimes I don't need

either wine, coffee or tea

I just want to lie down

and enjoy being just me