Grant me freedom
over wisdom
it's that which
knows no age-term

Everyone has had
their say
enough--no more-
goodbye is the final word
as we silently walk away.

Yesterday I was with time
it followed me to the day that's now
tomorrow we'll re-engage
there's no question of why or how.

At the end of time
only one man will remain
he will not sing songs of joy
but of despair and pain

Why are you weeping still, my heart
haven't you enough bled?
tears I can't bear any longer
you should not further shed--

I'm sinking, dying before my time
the flower of my youth has hardly blown
nine symphonies, six hundred songs
my 'Winterreise' and ' Die Schone Mullerin'--yet I moan

for fate has its cruelty upon me inflicted
I have so much more that does await
its glory and beauty to unfold in bright sunlight
but night descends and my life has nothing to celebrate

save the ruins of sorrows and heartaches
that all my dreams and hopes do destroy
if there were ever any redemption after I'm gone
it would be my songs that would bring me eternal joy.

They went all-out

     to seek what was  normal

     only to return in greater doubt

     and found their life to be abysmal.

REQUIEMS

No, requiems are not for me
to the ranks of the great and celebrated I don’t belong
if you do remember me when I am gone
just sing me a simple and plain but heart-felt song

I have been sounding
like an old over-played record
my mind jarred and marred
has hardly turned away
from the grooves
embedded within
over the decades
from which I could not disentangle--

time has marched on
age has caught up with me
the seeds I once planted
in my life's garden
have all come to their own
now they are gallant trees
proud flowers, lush plants
a world they count all-sufficient
and I am needed no more

now
as I walk past
I know
they recognise me
in their silence
for they understand
( nature has taught them well)
who and what I am

could I blame them
if they were to sit
in judgement?

for they are pure
without a single blemish
their hearts
do not bear any mark
of inhumanity
they hold standards
which I could never achieve
and I walk away
in my lonely shame

I must take leave
from the shackles
of my tainted life
past steps
I have to retrace
one by one
new seeds of contemplation*
I have to seek
from the barrenness
of this wilderness
of my own creation

I have come
to the brink
of time
there was no jailer
it was I
who created
my own prison

even the sun
looks away from me
even the dark
dreads my presence
no star will shine
over me
and no bird
will sing for me

the sea forbids me
I would pollute
the grass would cringe
as I walk over the green

I have no home
to return to
the night-winds
conspire:
let's blow harder
on that man
let him suffer
and shiver
the more
the better

midnight
the bell chimes
darker grows the sky
a voice mysterious
suddenly drifts
from the distant hills
in a tongue
I can't understand
but its contents
somehow
strike terror in my heart

my voice is choked
I can't speak
I seem
to be tossed
in a whirlpool
out in the nowhere of time
next
I am falling
falling
falling
from the clouds
falling
falling
falling
from the precipice
falling
falling
falling
away from myself--

is this all a dream
or my imagination?

It's not what life could do
for me that matters
but what I could do
with my life. This stand
I've made and will not waver
or myself I'd have betrayed
and die with dreams unfulfilled--

life will be my tool
and not my master.

But the wise
aren't around
the unwise
are here--to confound!

Being sure
of unsure
the weight
of things
I measure-
I endure.

Words define us and all that's life
stronger than the hardest steel, verily-
all civilisation is distilled within them
love, joy, sorrow and misery
to which the flesh is heir to
but man has such nobility
he might be down but will resurrect somehow
he will triumph over every adversity

The world is made for everyone

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

The day promises me nothing
I have to give it meaning.

You are immortalised by these two arguments:

'The world is all that is the case.

The world is the totality of facts, not of things'

But philosophy is beyond me, dear Ludwig
that is a fact.  Another fact is I don't have wit.
One more fact, bear with me--I am bald but wear no wig.

Am I not more

the cause of my own suffering

than that occasioned by

others or any other human being?

Let them have their say
they haven't spoken enough yet
if their words were added up
that would stretch for ten thousand miles I bet

this is the world as it is
too many want to do the talking
they don't  just speak--they yell and shout-
they hear only their voices---listening

is not something they are used to
conversation is a long-lost art
since they know it all
what could the others impart?

and even on their death-beds
a long list they will still make
of the things they didn't have the chance
to say-- talking is too precious to forsake!

You know me
only peripherally
and boldly advise
what I should do
to set my life right

like an HM or pastor
you boasted you knew better
I needed help being on the wrong side
of things-- I would slip further

away unless my conscience I search
bid the past goodbye
you would audit me then
with a warning: 'Our truth you should not deny'--

won't you leave me
to my ignorance and folly?
however wayward I might find myself
yet my life is lived in freedom and I am happy.

Wu-wei (non-action) in Taoism
to him  nothing at all I did
he destroyed himself verily
by his own thought and deed

In the train you found to your consternation
your wallet you had lost--what a disaster!
you couldn't pay the fare of $2 and was in desperation
that unkempt man handed you the sum--he was a beggar!

9102---no more humans
  people are robots and machines
  far, far away from primitive 2019
  metal parts become skins-

  words court a 99.99% death
those forbidden are 'love', 'beauty'
'feelings' and 'heart'--- it's a new earth
with reference to none---named 'Synchronicity'

The day
do we notice?
(sometimes we look away).

The day
listen, oh listen to
what it has to say.

The day
how does it compare
with yesterday?

The day
would you want it
to longer stay?

The day
to love and adore
is to pray.

The day
are we missing
the splendour on the way?

The day
it invites
come, dance and play.

The day
while the sun shines
make hay.

The day
work well
not just for the pay.

The day
bring in the sunshine
if the sky is grey.

The day
is for edifying
not for fray.

The day
hold yourself high
let showers of hope freely spray.

The day
open your heart's window
it's no time for dismay.

The day
the meadow is beckoning
don't delay.

The day
look, look
the darling buds of May.*

The day
nature her proudest gowns
gladly does display.

The day
let its message of hope
to everyone convey.

The day
its opportunities
let's survey.

The day
dusk is not yet
don't say 'Nay'.

The day
it's mine
how could I walk away?

Letting go
is the way to grow

WINTER MIST

The woods are half-hidden
By the winter mist—dense and grey-
Renoir would have loved this sight, or Monet-
Sluggish is the sun—even at mid-day.

No bird-song, the flowers look pale
Cold winds drift towards the dim distant hill
I am sitting on the rickety old wooden bench
But my thoughts would not stay still.

Is it the winter or my heart
That is stirring something within me?
What it is, I try as I may but cannot say--
Only some vague feelings ---not akin to melancholy.

Is old age but contemplation and resignation
An old song, once so lustrous, now dull and pale?  
Have I lost the dreams of my youth?
Is this a chapter of life that is dull and stale?

Then suddenly a voice seems to whisper to me-
‘  Glorious and mellow is old age---contentment
Rewards in every turn and its paths are well-trodden
Like the finale of a symphony---magnificent!’

And then,  the woods are lit with the sun’s first strong rays
The mist disperses, dissolves and soon disappears
  I hear the twitter of birds flying past me and this I think--
  ‘Old age should still be champagne ----not love’s regrets or tears’.

Be aware that you don't become
what others expect of you

I have long ago
accepted my inadequacy
and rather enjoyed it
indeed this has made me happy

Is it an enemy
or friend--time?

But I care not either
only I alone can determine
my desired outcome!

I'll not allow it
to interfere or intrude
my path I chart
my field I farm

time doesn't exist
if to it  attention I don't pay:
my future I shape
it stays away and is dumb

Blue waters between

long verdant stretches of field

nature in best dress

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!

It's the downhill
of time-- mine-
I pause and I ponder
while daylight still has a little shine

too soon the last rays
of evening will set in
dusk's shadows will spread
their wings and my hopes will wear thin

each individual life
where lies its worth?
I count the years
the past I unearth

and this I say to myself:
I'm old and worn but still alive
nothing shall come in between
while I struggle and strive

to find the meaning of it all
during the last days of my life
to set the wrong to right
my avowed ideals to revive

and not to allow despair
to sink deep into my heart
rather chart a new path
like youth making a fresh and bold start

I'll not fail and my spirit
from the ruins of the past
shall resurrect and wholesome
I'll become.  Now, I'll say  it's not the last

but the glorious crossover
to the Brave New World where
the downhill of time shall be reversed
this in absolute faith I dare declare.

Napoleon was madly in love with Josephine
but could not write love-poetry
in desperation he rang to seek my help
I slammed down the phone: I don't need your bribery!

Give me someone who has NEVER lied to themselves
I would regard such a saint or a charlatan

Returning to the past?
         but not too much
        lest you only half-live
       and lose the present's vibrant touch

        there's more gain than loss
        if you will care to unlearn
        seize all you can from the moment
        what went before is no longer for you to yearn

CONFESSION

Your love I can’t claim
it’s not my right
I should not beseech
that would be self-serving
one-sided
inconsiderate
with nothing
left for you
(don’t you soften your heart
it’s not worth it)

and pity from you
would be my worst affliction
for I would be tearing your heart
with my deceptive tears and pleading

you shouldn’t say
in a moment of weakness
‘  I’ll meet you half-way
   or three-quarter way’

this softening of your heart
it won’t stick
vulnerability is a trick
it would make you sick

a single drop
of dark ink
makes pure water
murky
it blemishes
its beauty
(I would rather
drink hemlock
than be
that dark ink)

no, oh no
I would never want
to make you suffer
on account of loving me

no, oh no
you do wrong
if you should sacrifice yourself
for the sake of another
out of pity or compassion

look away
look far away
as
that which is *******
is not love
you would merely destroy yourself
and regret
in perpetual imprisonment

love
must be free
free like the wind
to travel where its heart chooses
to be its own
without any boundary

its raison d’etre
is to live
to grow
to blossom
to beautify
to embrace
to cherish
to share
in the fusion and convergence
of two true hearts
as
the bow is to the violin
as
the sun to the sky
as
the moon to the night
as
the flower to the garden
as
the water to the sea
as
the song to the singer
as
the poem to the poet

that, that purity
that perfection
that miracle
that devotion
that faith
that beauty
that sublimity
which outshines
the grandeur of all eternity

ask yourself then
before you reply
do I fit
do our hearts meet?

Auld lang syne
    after the midnight of 31st December 2016
    the world stopped short
    the New Year to usher in--

    every past century met its end
    hopes blown to the wind
    'A happier world we seek'
     a slogan on every heart pinned

     only to come into rude wakening
     for man's nature would not change
     power, greed, violence, conflict and war
     was the bane of the times---strange

     in the midst of so-called progress
     and mankind claiming to have come
     to its own?  To the same cry of despair
     the tragedy and the desolation to succumb

     2017 will lead to year 3000 before long
    what would be the outcome?
     the century is sinking fast--verily--
     a thousand times worse would be the sum

     the young would no longer have dreams
    the old would have seen it all and be emotionally dumb
    nature would have been dehumanised and lost all her beauty
    savagery and destruction would replace every calm.

People don't know me

    I can be dreadfully lazy

    it's a state that makes me happy

    do I have to be busy?

It's the chase
the irresistible impulse
the irksome wanting
--often undefined and vague-
not despair or angst
more  restlessness and discontent
a strong hint of emotional thirst
and too often in desperation
the blind plunge into some void
alas! the common inheritance
of heart and mind so prevalent
heedless of any dire consequence--

but there's no enlightenment
nor light at the further end
only the mocking sneer of time
and foreboding darkness at the bend.

The end of the road
I've reached but am no wiser
I'm weary and have grown older
it seems futile to walk farther--

no more will I go searching
it's time for my heart to rest
all that the journey has taught me
is: love yourself, be content and you will be blessed.

Today-
do I have
something
worthwhile
to write or say?

my heart
I must search
myself I'd demean
if from duty
and responsibility
I walk away

for too easily
ego takes the day's
centre-stage
and I in my folly
fall a ready prey

the day
ah, the grandeur
and splendour!
the self-becoming
the beauty-unfolding
what role should
I play
on the shore
of humanity
or to my shame
my puerile self
and callousness display?

I and the world
others and I
faces I encounter
as each person
I walk by
a mask
I should not wear
my heart
I should unlock
to breathe and take in
life as it manifests
even in its most minuscule
and humble is-ness

I shouldn't walk away
either in nonchalance
or derision but feel
the common pulse
of which I'm part
thereof or become less
of what I should be
for all life is verily
one heart beating
in the corporate symphony
whose every note
speaks of both
you and me
of our joys, our sorrows
our fears, our tears
our nobility
our common humanity--

and I can't but think
of Beethoven's immortal Choral Symphony
An Die Freude set to Schiller's poetry
and to myself I say
make this a day
of joy and thanksgiving
my very day
lest
I might not again
pass this way.

The day slips away
it wouldn't bother
to say--
'see you tomorrow'
nor 'goodbye'

the moral--
time and I
always the 'twain'
but me it's too keen
to deny
with words:
'  that person
claims me a friend
and confidant
I think he does lie
for to none
do I belong
I'm no one's keeper
just an indifferent passer-by'

its tone is
harsh
contemptuous
incriminating
abrasive
and dry

am I
the trouble
that separates
myself
from life
or is it
but a trickster
bouncing its *****
of promised hopes
seducing me
right before my very
eye?

but no longer
am I
a child
to be beguiled

I'll stand
my ground
(while time
and life slip by)
in my resoluteness

ready
for a good
and
uncompromising fight
I won't forgo
my living right

I'll go beyond
myself
I'll reach
for the sky
and my words
of freedom
and fearlessness
write
upon its face:
'a man is born
to live
and must learn
to death defy
and invent
his own wings
to fly
where his heart leads
to lands wet
or dry
to every height
and no sky
will be too high'

I'll not hide
behind a curtain
nor construct
a wall
or fortress
least of all
would I retreat
to a lonely corner
my tears to dry

born alone
I'll seek no ally
if I stretch out
my heart
to the splendour
of love
to beauty's wonder
if my lips
are warm
kiss-ready
I'd have had
a foretaste of
life's honey
the grandest feast
I'd have dined

the day
would slip away
and me
it would envy

in its loss of words
I'd be left alone
in a world I've carved
and now I call my own

I've created
my own
bon nuit
and bonjour.

THE PAST

The past      etched in time's memory
engraved in my mind-scape  
          faces    places
colours    sounds     smells   moments

undercurrents of emotions   of feelings   of images
glimpses of joy   of sorrow  
of laughter    of  tears   of love   of tenderness
of   resolutions    of doubts   of regrets   of remorse  of loneliness
of what had been    or could have been
everything had evaporated like dreams

but all seems so dim  now    neural debris    
weakening dendrites  
the past is but shadows     an illusion  
  a shadow-play    

the essence was then --  
most memories have vanished or  faded at the present hour
the past   what are its uses    
what are its abuses

time measures all    swallows   all  

it takes no sides    neither a friend or foe

the past     I was    
the present   I am  
the future   I don't know

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

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.

Time
condensed
in a flask
terrifying
threatening
tantalising
unrelenting
compelling

fate hangs
on moving sand
who invented
this monstrous instrument?

imagine
the person
with death-sentence
counting
the second
waiting
for his ending

and this
I'm thinking
is more humanising
namely that
as soon as
the sentence
has been passed

the execution
should be carried out
the immediate following moment

who
tell me who
was the inventor
of this torturing instrument?

No time for lament

to the heart beauty beckons

flowers smile in fields

Sometimes I don't need

either wine, coffee or tea

I just want to lie down

and enjoy being just me

I wish not
to contend
it's a sign
of inner weakness
to bend
towards that which
is indulged by those
in discontent

rather in my silent way
learn to strengthen
my zeal to live
to life's beauty
my heart to lend

vita brevis
tempus fugit
carpe diem

at dawn the flowers blow
at night they weep
the hours are lent
for but a while
too soon does end
the sweetest smile

I should learn
to understand
as I  stand
on shifting sand
the tide will rise
to wash away
all that's on the strand

I'll be left
staring at the faraway sea
wondering its whereabout
and where it would end.

VALENTINE’S DAY 2014


Have I not said and written enough?
Every day is to us a Valentine’s Day
I shall not buy you red roses-
They will just wither away

While the love that ever
In our faithful hearts dwells
Outlasts the last sunshine and moonlight
The most beautiful story it tells.

Our love should be quiet, gentle
As mellow as the chords of the cello
What a sacred word love is----this
True hearts which love truly cherish and know.

Time is fleeting by, my love, draw nigh
The songs of bygone days let us sing
In sweet remembrance of every moment we shared then
So fondly still I recall that day when we met in sweet spring.

Read less of the papers
     think independently more
     they are full of lies and rumours
     the daily deleterious eye-sore!

You wore red roses on your shining hair
at the meadow's end I was waiting there
love was all over the radiant summer air
you were the fairest of the village-fair --

all the village-laddies knew you well, dearest Clare
your radiant eyes no other lassie could compare
I'd love you till the world's last sunset, that I did swear
but you loved me not---your heart was somewhere!