This is the time to disembark
dusk is fast drawing nigh
the heart no longer yearns
darkening is the foreboding sky--

  the days of youth have vanished
  they shall never again come by
   the weary oar I must lay to rest
   without any regret nor heave a single sigh.

LOVE IN A NUTSHELL

Love---life is about love and relationships
in between there are many rough patches and slips
but he who swims in its unpredictable waters must
not be afraid of drowning—in his own courage he must trust.

So much to learn
so little time
be pragmatic
pursue that with the best outcome-

so much to love
fail not, make time
kiss those waiting lips
embrace the moment sublime-

so much to feel
as the emotions come
look not away from beauty
to the lure of deceit do not succumb-

so much to live for
keep away from every harm
inspire, nurture and edify
let your heart abide in the sea of calm.

You can't understand love

   you have first to live it, all else above

Don't be taken aback
I'm taking a step backward
why? you asked? Simple:
I'm not ready to move forward

for it's costly and could be ruinous
to find myself stranded or in situations perilously awkward
life is not as easy as taking a drink or walk
nor as lighting a cigarette and least about being rewarded.

We worry
next we worry
about our worry
  we persuade our self
  not to worry
   and not succeeding
   brings in a new worry
   to summarise:
   the culprit is
   the first worry
   which leads
    to the need to worry
    then that worry weighs on
    the second worry
    a vicious cycle
    settles in
    and there's nothing
    to stop the worry
    so used to worry
    the worrier couldn't be happy
    if there were no worry
    believe me
    this is serious poetry
    not reckless comedy!

The past speaks
to the present
often loudly
and with rancour
not content
to be buried:

revive me
reconstruct
the foundations
I've laid
let them perish never

for
there's a beginning
in everything
too well you know
I've been used
and abused
spited upon
and misinterpreted

wrong
must be righted
lest truth
be crucified
I await
to be resurrected

I was the voice
of conscience
the repository
of every man
and woman's tears
the refuge and sanctuary
of their pain and fears
the face and emblem
of humanity
over countless years

I stand
in dignity
still--
I won't step aside

I'll fight
for my right
oblivion
I'll not accept
lest in silence
I waste away
and in some
forgotten corner
weep and die.

IT CAN’T BE RIGHT

It can’t be right, it just can’t be right
that life should always be ‘me’
looking beyond myself at the world at large
sets me free.

It just can’t be right
that others should not have their say
I should heed and listen well
never walk away and utter: Nay.

It just can’t be right
to count myself as winner
that everyone else should be loser
what and who can define someone as  victor?

It just can’t be right
to turn away from the misery
of my fellow-men
I am part of humanity.

Another theme
another dimension
another dream
another direction-

another that you deem
another cogitation
another scheme
another question-

another quest
another interpretation
another guest
another perturbation

another romance
another passion
another distance
another apprehension

the another of the another
another and another attention
the another of the another of the another
another frustration!

The pursuit is in vain
the journey a fantasy
to my inner sanctum I should return
where resides the true me-

everywhere is the clamour
'  this is the true philosophy
   do not walk in error
   this will set you free'

  the public well is poisonous
  drinking therefrom leads to malady
  give me the pure rain-water
   it will keep me healthy--

   alone in the deepest silence of night
   untainted by the voice of rude humanity
   with the moon and stars as company
   I am content and blessed in my serenity.

FIVE HAIKU (7th COLLECTION)

1

White sand and blue sky
a broken boat by the shore
I thought of my youth

2

At the concert hall
right time for all to impress
ne'er mind the music

3

Balloons in the air
kids throw away their text-books
their parents look on

4

We are all dreamers
but our dreams are not the same
we don't tell others

5

Pen and blank paper
the poet looks through the window
his hand starts to move

Some wish to come
others rush to go
some prefer ignorance
others wish to know.

Some want to hide away
others want to show
some want to be leaders
others are happy to follow.

Some want to reap
but hate to sow
others work ******* land
their crops richly grow.

Some spend too much
others are frugal and don't borrow
some over-worry all their life
I live life like no tomorrow.

Why I'm writing this
I hardly know
perhaps I'm bored
do you think so?

Because I love you too much
I need say nothing more
these few words are enough
I shouldn't repeat what I said before

too much shaking of the rose
makes its petals fall
let our love dwell in beautiful silence-
it speaks all

Sandpiper's refuge

by the edge of blue water

in silent splendour

The epilogue
is the heart
of the matter

the prelude
spoke only
in fragments

all said and done
the epilogue
is the all-in-all

the story
has been told

no more
the longing
the loving
the hating
the wanting
the wishing
the hoping
the waiting
the doubting
the suffering

the last poignant song
has been sung
the symphony
ends with rapture

All beginnings
converge at the end
no more words
need to be said

a new epoch
is resurrected
from the debris
of the past

and what follows is
stillness
silence
calm
illumination
the stoic mind
and humble acceptance

no more tears
shall be shed again

the end is
more poignant than
the beginning

prelude
ends
with
epilogue

this is the last resolution
nothing else.

It won't go down well
with almost everyone-
life's bitter medicine
has left so many undone-

but there's no escape route
no miracle could be spun
strength and endurance must come
from weakness, ere the last race is done.

IF

If you can step aside
While others are busy
With the market-throng
You are a step closer to being free.

While others wildly
Their pursuits chase
If you can watch and not envy
You scorn pride at its face.

What others have
You hanker for and desire not
Yet humility and contentment
Reign your heart---you are happy with your lot.

Too much hue and cry, so much excitement
And euphoria on the other side
You sit quietly under the shade of the tree
Reading your favourite poems while the world goes mad with its pride.

If you can leave the world behind
Your own soul and heart to cultivate
Your years will ripen with sweet fruitfulness
You will arrive finally at Enlightenment Gate.

Your life's greatest moment is this-

     when you can show yourself pity

     and never walk away from or miss

     the suffering of humanity

You would hate me without end
your deadly enemy happens to be my best friend

More of you, less of me
it was, it is and will always be

FIVE HAIKU

1

The sunset’s last rays
light up my beloved’s face
I just want to stay

2

Red autumn leaves fall
one by one on the  wet ground
the crows pass them by

3

The town languishes
it’s the coldest winter night
the streets are empty


4  

The same fisherman
the same river he travels
he feels not the same
5

Friends of long ago
meeting after fifty years
they struggle for words

WINTER RAIN*

The winter rain has swept through the brown coastal sand
An opaque mist broods over the distant sky
The last seagull takes its frantic flight
A tiny boat is trembling in the waters nearby.

Despondent trees are bowing to the angry wind
Leaves of red and gold scatter all over in the bitter-cold air
The anxious farmer has locked his barn
In the village none is seen in the thoroughfare.

The storm is heard brewing
The forests are darkening
The evening is deepening
The homeless and destitute are moaning.

For whom is that woman at the pier waiting?
Why are tears in her eyes gathering?
Why am I alone in the rain still lingering?
What story is my heart telling?

• Most of it written in the train when travelling to and back from Castlemaine in regional Victoria, Australia—
the rain inspired this.

I am weary
I long for sleep
unlike Robert Frost
I have no promises to keep

MY RELIGION

My religion bears no name
Carved in  the depth of my heart it speaks not ,
only replays
Past scenes that made me weep-
(Long forgotten and loneliest of days)

Their spectre they do raise still-
What I  am now and was
Becomes the testament of my faith
In silence I once bore my cross

But I would not count as my loss
All that had  filtered through my life
I resurrected from my ruins
Unburdened every load and overcome every strife.

For clemency I beseech not
Though I recognise I am most unworthy
My religion is the mirror of my life
The very face of my own humanity.

It's not the spring season yet
the winter-ending snow
still falls though in slow
and weak tiny droplets
each like a gentle reminder
nature has its own course
to follow
(there's no cause for rush
winter's story is not over)--

the night somehow
seems longer, and weaker
are the moon and stars-
the leaves they quiver
and the trees by the deserted shore
by the winds are tossed
forward and backward
frantically to and fro
while the tides
they intermittently roar-

the heart is restless and anxious
in waiting--each moment seems
longer than years, so cruel and vexatious
but patience and faith is tested and called for-

love should not question
it must stay strong
whatever the season
however sad its drawn-out song-

amidst life's turbulent throng
the heart should rest steadfast
love should overcome every storm
through all episodes of tears outlast-

but the time shall come
when winter its last leaves
will have been cast
the grass will revive
flowers will begin to bud
branches will stretch out
in vigour to reach the sun
frost will melt away
from the stream which will rush
to welcome thirsty birds around
all nature will be a-flush
with the brightness
of light and colour
with warm- spreading glades
and dance with the musical sound
of life born anew--all in consonance
with the heart blessed in contentment-

the time has come
spring has blossomed
love has waited
but such glory
it has won.

LIFE: VIEWED FROM ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE

Near is far for the tired traveller
far is near for the heart in rapturous anticipation
leaving, arriving and waiting-
moments that make for life's equation

regret comes too late for those
who don't embrace love when it's present
only to yearn, sigh and weep
when love is absent

My mind is the writer
my heart is the editor

IN THE RIPENESS OF TIME
      
      You are too impatient
      you can't wait
      you move too quickly
      
      you frighten
      the bird of happiness
      
      it eludes you
      It flies away
      (and you wonder why)

      be still
      lie quietly
      under the tree
      (the abode
      of that winged singer)
      
      just be calm
      and still
      be empty
      expect nothing
      feel the wind
      that passes by
      touch the flowers
      at your feet
      hold the rays
      of sunshine
      in your palm
      say to your heart:
      be patient
      what's the hurry?
      the day has just begun
      let the moment unfold
      in its richest beauty

     and
    suddenly
    while not hoping
    nor expecting
   like a dream
   awakening
      
    (a miracle happens)  
      
     that bird gently
      descends
      from the tree
      and leaves you
      with its blessing
      '  this is your turn
         now live and be happy'

It would make you smile
glitter and pretty
no mumbo-jumbo
but it would be costly-

the dental implant
with components three-
the crown, the abutment (bridge)
and the *****-like implant-post---the trinity!

poor old-age pensioners
already plagued by rising utility
costs are struggling from
every town and county-

Aussie Government budget is in deficit
sinking in billion-dollars debts---not interest-fee
its announcement to the public recently:
'No funding for faulty teeth---just brush them properly!'

GUISE
                (From a betrayed woman's diary)

How many faces does guise have?
and I know you have mastered this art
through numerous applications-
you calibrate your part
(before meeting your target)
how you should look
what clothes to wear and how to smile
you can memorise all this straight from the book
how many hearts have you stolen
and broken?
pity those who to your sweet voice did harken
how many did suffer from your guise, you reckon?

but life is a pendulum
it can't swing every time in your favour
the day of doom would fall upon you
you would fall on your own sword- you wicked philanderer!

It's not what I say or declare
but for others to judge--am I
good or bad, or neither
then what?  the why of things in life
is too often shrouded
in deep mystery and is monstrously vexatious
the heart has reasons of its own and is unimpressed by logic-
the question of what is or should be is perennially contentious

WORDS

Words
worry me
how many
did I use today?
Words
they frighten me
how many were necessary?

it seems to me
most didn’t do their duty
to what purpose
to whom
to what end
said to an imagined enemy
or a true friend?

I must pause
to think
before I sink
to the abyss of the inane
where words fester and stink

I must forget
unwanted words
delete many
from my unedifying vocabulary

others I shouldn’t blame
  though I know deeply
  in my heart
   I was taught to use
   the uncomely
   the meaningless words
   words that self-glorified
   sugar-coated which would but
   diminish me
   reduce me
   to absurdity
   words that hate
   that hurt
   that maim
   that cause pain
   and suffering
   that but serve
   my selfish aim
   (now regret comes too late)
  
   I should not be
   in the company
   of some many
    so-called teachers
  
    I must break myself free
     from the word-killers
     the word-profaners
     the word-defilers
     the language nihilists
     who seek to destroy
     beauty and decency
      for their vainglory

      how would I sleep tonight
      counting the number
      of inhumane and worthless words
       I spoke today?
      
      so often I wished
       I were dumb
       to be cleansed
       by silence
       to be still
       to be liberated
       from the pollution
       that has infected
        my better self
        for so long
        so surreptitiously
        without my knowing

         it’s past midnight now
        how calm are the stars and the moon
         in their eternal silence
         they speak so much to me
         and make such wondrous company

         when I wake tomorrow
         would I be a new man
          one who has turned his back
          on the past
         that has irked and misused me?

      the sage Lao-Tze in the sixth century BC wrote:
      he who knows does not speak
      he who speaks does not know.

      and that’ s all I need to know.

VESTIGES

The late autumn roses wither
Each petal falls silently on the ground
Peeling will generate new growth
Though vestiges remain without the sigh of sound.

The heart that is forlorn and bereft must rest
Never mind though its sorrows are profound
Vestiges will be the harbinger of new hope and joy
In shedding and letting go future bliss shall abound

Spring is now*
summer follows
seasons are sure
but the heart knows
not the next moment to come
life is all about waiting and expecting
the same daily humdrum
only this I do know
you will never leave me
we share a dream
the best is yet to be

We talk and think of success

as though it's life's main aim

it's only temporal and transient

not a perpetual burning flame.


The world is hubris-filled

so many lives are lived unfulfilled

THE WINGS OF LOVE

The wings of love, like those of the butterfly
are beautiful but so delicate and fragile---too easily crushed-
don't rush to stretch out your too-eager hand
they would disintegrate if tightly grasped.

Let love like the shy and silent  butterfly
glide gently over the faithful flower of your heart
it will dance in jubilance and make its home there
in that shared splendour it would never want to part.

MY MIRROR AND I
                    
              Mirror, mirror on the wall
              you see not just part of me but all--
              my warts, frailties and all my grey hair fallen away
              tell me, would I be a better person some day?

Some words are soft and gentle
others are unpretty and harsh
each knows its proper station
and duly performs its task.

Unnoticed I quietly slipped away
from the over-crowded room
words vilified and polluted within
there was too much gloom

I didn't say anything
all I did was to lend my ears
they spoke like chosen prophets
they stirred up apocalyptic fears

to the guillotine they referred
and next the execution on the electric chair
the listeners could hardly breathe
visibly they trembled--the tension they couldn't bear

the gentle evening breeze greeted me
as I stepped away from the closed door
I wondered and wondered--how
such people could assume they knew infinitely more!

THAT'S NOT FOR ME

Oh, no--that's not for me
this crowded mass-chatter
and clamour
of the market-place
(so many expectant faces
so eager to make quick deals
and enter into ' attractive' transactions-
money talks
titles are displayed
claims are loudly made)
' I am Sir Richard Bull--
Chairman of Rich & Pull
that's my Rolls--over there
yes,  can you see?'

the lust, the greed, the flattery
hands too ready to grasp-
the temptation is just too strong
opportunities not to be missed-
' Quick, quick before that item
is snatched by someone else'
(fortune favours the quick and the greedy)
the oozing of fake charms
' Oh, you made my day'
shoulder-rubbing
back-patting
even stranger-hugging (as long as there is gain)

here I don't belong
I want to be free

the noise drowns me
the air pollutes me
the smoke blinds my eyes
I must flee
before the contagion
seizes me

only one brief life
no more than a tiny fragile leaf
in the tree of nowhere
buffeted by wild winds
which shake and toss me everywhere
suspended in time
between the here and now
and the hazy time to come
I am but drift-wood
in the nameless sea
where would the gentle landing be?

only this I know-
tempus fugit- verily-
that which will bring
all things
to their final inexorability

and why should I
bother about that
which would bring me
but misery?

all that glitters is not gold
in the market-square
but dross and soot
dust and sand
(sadly most people don't understand)

I have saved myself
from this mindless debacle

to be free
is the only way
to be happy.

It should not be
for the want of love
for my sake alone
that I seek your heart
but rather that I can give
more than I should take-
that which but seeks its own
is but a blemish
upon the sweetest rose-

it should not be
for my comfort or consolation
as I stretch out my pleading hand
but rather that your tears
I am nearby to wipe away
to hasten to and stay
by your side
in self-oblivion
and surrender
as the bleakness
of darkness falls
and both you and I
in the deepest silence
into our eyes we'll look
where love harkens
and its radiance so bright
that it would never die--

it should not be
and how unworthy
of me
to make you promise
you'd give up all
in self-denial
in sacrifice
blind-folded in trust
in giving yourself away
and no longer belong
to yourself--
for you I must
be lesser than myself
the testament I must write
across the vastness
of the sky
should read:
'But for you
there would be no 'I'--

it should then be
that this our destiny
shall bind us in unity
as the splendour
and beauty
of every note
in an ending symphony.

Oh no, far remote-
I am not a poet though
poetry I write
as I know
I am but a tiny bit of sand
somewhere on the poetic shore
not worthy to be noticed
to be washed away by the tide-  no more
than a fallen leaf
from the giant poetic oak
that has stood so majestically and serenely
with the loftiest and most sublime voice it spoke

a kiss exchanged
that wishes to stay

the love that grips
fears to bid farewell

the heart hesitates
seeking words to say

the dream after the awakening
that refuses to fade away

I was there
it was real
I breathed
and sweated
as each moment
did its power peel--

my ground
I stood
I didn't yield
despite the wounding
in calm acceptance
myself I managed
to heal--

life is lived
much in suffering
despair I would not-
my equanimity
nothing nor anyone
could ever steal

Some day
soon enough
what I've written
would be blown away
by the cold winds of time
every word
every rhyme-
such thought
has left me not

until then
with my shaking hand
I'll still hold my pen
to jot
down
what my life is all about

dark and sombre
is the night
my candle-light
wanes
dim is my sight
deep are my pains
that cling to me
the past convulses
the present is mockery
the future but mist
that foreshadows
the most friendly star
if I do hold on to hopes
they would be away too far

the hour is approaching
its footsteps are
at my door ajar
the moment cannot wait
all that's within me
it will tear asunder
and my every dream
it will heartlessly mar--

silence
but fear I've none
my heart-beat
is growing weaker
my breath is slower
the last note
of the symphony
I love so dearly
seems less familiar

a sinking feeling
is weighing upon me
I can't look back

and from nowhere
comes a strange voice:
'the words you've created
will not leave you-
to you they belong
your life has been given to
nurturing and shaping them
and they have no reason
to blame you for any wrong'.

You would no longer
recognise me
I would be encrypted
as a symbol in the Land of IT.

Untying
lighter I do feel
in my pocket there's nothing
empty from head to heel-

let others do their shouldering
layer upon layer to peel
ambitionless all I do is dreaming
in contention with none to deal.

Silent village stream

bears memories of past lives

history-keeper

Let each have their say
it's what everyone is entitled to
however insignificant it's still their story
this applies also to me and you-

life is the universal democracy-
I am unafraid to declare
I've fought, I suffered
and bled. I was there-

no life is the same
we should deal not
with the general
but the particular--each thought

belongs to the individual
it's what makes him or her
let's step aside and our prejudice
cast--we aren't asked to concur.

Silently it struggles--meaning-
doubtful of its own meaning