Our over-statement

could be our dumbest moment

I look gently at myself now

and am much amused

what I did in my youth

it was me who confused

Early bird on tree
eyes watching the scene keenly
hungry and ready

They say:

    everyone has a second chance

    but by then the music-hall is closed

    you can't enter to have your dance

No one should speak

in my favour

they don't know

how often I do err

At the end
  to the beginning
   I turned
   having forgotten
   my question
   which led me on
   to the doubtful sojourn-



  I've to start
  all over again
  this time
   with a clearer vision
   and not having
   to return
   empty and forlorn-

   my question
   answered then
  I will not be
  the person lost
   nor torn and broken

Knowing what I am not

has saved me from angst such a lot

How often have I offended my heart

     in not heeding to it in my lack of understanding

     instead of being one, I set it apart

     and end up in my self-afflicted suffering

You can't understand love

   you have first to live it, all else above

I never wanted more

not having is where I best score

View from balcony

nature's colours spread all o'er

memories revive

When someone says 'absolutely'

I'd find it hard to agree readily

If the sentence

doesn't look quite right

you have no choice

but to re-write

I decided  on my own to become a humanist
in my mid-30's after seeing the most savage cruelties
of the world and the unbearable suffering borne by mankind.

I made a silent vow not to be cruel to anyone or any life-form
and to be kind to the best of my ability.
It's a lifelong process and I know, in the depth of my heart that, if I can live up to this vow, I would somehow find my 'religion' at the end.

Who doesn't suffer

from life's roughest edges?

though they might not utter

the pain is written yet in their faces

Coffee aroma

drifting over old farmhouse

I miss my grandma

A world

beyond a world

beyond a world

it leaves me over-curled

If you had

    too many a hope

    and all realised-

    could you cope?

Kindness and intelligence

I can't have both

happily I choose the former

none would have me loathed

There's a point beyond which

suffering shall no longer shed its tears

it looks squarely at the face of fate

it's stronger and has conquered all fears

In such tender bloom

flowers raise their heads to sing

nature perfected

Browning of autumn

mellowing of tender love

hearts in renewing

Nothing is too small

for eyes of curiosity

heav'n in grain of sand

Farewell to Sunday

days ahead are just as good

I'll create the right mood

Mini-market

supermarket

hypermarket

we are overfed!

The then unanswered questions of my youth

now spring to me in my twilight years

I've found most were silly and uncalled for

a few I can address--without fears or tears

Lady waits by pier
her heart full of anxiety
when will he return?

The world is made for everyone

as for me, it's always one-to-one

I start with myself

      with others, next

      the two I string together

      I learn what to let by or annex-



     hard to say what's wrong or right

     both the old and the new I respect

     to the beginning I return at the end

     to a fresh direction my mind I reset

I've learnt a few things, have given up on past undesired parts,
I'm more selfish as I've neglected myself somewhat before,
but not at the expense of kindness, I'll deepen my love, grow in appreciation of the beauty of life, of nature and of the arts,
will be calmer and quieter, will listen empathetically, will not be judgmental, will give everyone a chance, will mind my own business but will not be insensitive to the suffering of others,
be content, grateful and humble, will live creatively as that's the essence of meaningful living, will never allow a single day to waste away as every moment is a gift, will look to the future with wonder and optimism, and never forget that it's kindness and humaneness which will make the world a better place.

My love, as you lie on your bed
the first morning rose I'll pick--upon
your gentle hair to deck
ere the day's sunshine is gone

Blue sky kisses hills

casts its shine on calm waters

watched by lonely trees

Autumn yawns o'er field

first light of moon to descend

lone farmer at work

Life and death, joy and sorrow- they belong to each other;
without one, the other doesn't exist.

Zen and Taoism accept the flow of life as it is-
the such-ness is the reality; to go against this flow
is to live in fear, suffering and ignorance.

If the mind is free from dualistic thinking,
there's peace, clarity and compassion.
In this self-liberation,  death is accepted in complete equanimity.

He who has not rid himself of the fear of death can't be a happy person.

( I have a chapter on mortality in my forthcoming 8th book which is on living purposefully in turbulent times, in response to Covid 19-
28,000 words?  Book will be sent to my publisher in Melbourne by December)

Melancholic heart

at loss of what words to say

night stirs up past love

At the deep end of life

there's a dark murky river

do you ever dare dive

into its forbidden water?



Oh, where is it, where?

I wonder and I wonder

it can't be found anywhere

I later realise-- it's at my heart's very corner.

In being alive

my heart opens to sing

all else I set aside

such joys does the moment bring-



in being alive

love blooms as in sweetest spring

in bliss I abide

there's splendour in everything

In my aloneness

peace I feel in calm silence

coffee makes my day

Everything in life
is unfinished business
even love and hate
joy and sadness

Words I have
as alive I am now
they stop on their own
when to the last farewell I bow

People talk of their strengths

       as for me,  my weaknesses I study

       life is a sharp ascent to better-hood

       what in future would I be?

Colours of autumn
speak of deep melancholy
of fragile beauty

What I am or not
none need to know--
in the public eye
I've nothing to show-

alone I live in some unknown fringe
where none would ever want to go
silence is ever my unfailing friend
by night the gentle stars for me they solely glow

Such gems to treasure   
    old books in unknown alleys   
    each carries a tale

“moonlight and mist caught in [woods] like lamb’s wool on bushes in a pasture.”
— Elizabeth Bishop, from “The Moose,” Geography III (Noonday Press, 1988)
Edinburgh, Scotland


Sweet melancholy
autumn mist and pale moonlight
gentle stream murmurs

My happiness
will spring like
a newborn flower
reaching out to the light
if you will love me
for what I am
all other things
set aside-

my heart knows
love is not my right
only that such
I deserve
and keep it bright
until the end of time
without the tiniest blight-

I stop, I don't know why
suddenly my words fail
and fall into the labyrinth
of my heart's twilight--

I'm sinking
I'm fading
like a flower
in withering
yet, there's
such sweetness
in my longing to die
for this burning love
I can't ever deny.

This is my reply:
            
            The waiting is the beauty
            the bud awaits for its blooming
     the love of my dream will come to me
          on that glorious shining morning

I am only at my start
me you shouldn't yet judge

It's a state of mind-

the future

the person speculates:

what is there to secure?

Eyes that can't see

one should be

donated to the blind freely

who will see life's timeless beauty