Late autumn
just a fallen yellow leaf
why do you stop
to look-- then reluctantly leave?

A leap in the dark
don't, it's dangerous
even by the spark
of day---quite ridiculous!

This I must master:
   never complain
   none likes the grumbler
   who's a bagful of grievous pain.

Dear Peter,

But you are a peaceful person
while I have never been-
my extreme tendencies,  while they have given me strength and courage to be what I am,
are also the cause of my unpleasantness, my peremptoriness and my rudeness--also crudeness and sometimes, insensitivity.
I don't enjoy it but just as a dog has a tail, I am stuck to what's in me and what I am.
Cutting the tail off? You might as well **** the dog!
Cut half of it?  The animal would never be the same again-
it has lost its pride, dignity and disparate self!  Its existence would have no meaning, it would count no more but would rather perish.

I don't compromise or, even if I do, it's a reserved and partly insincere compromise-
in short, not only do I have more faults than others
but, more importantly, they are enormous  in size and proportion
and are damaging sometimes.

Yet strangely,  there are some who like my accompany
but perhaps more who would keep their distance.
I don't blame the latter--they are right in their judgement and perception.

You might ask: are you happy being ruled by extremities?

My answer: I can't help it and I can't say I'm unhappy on account of this--my ugly blemish.

However you might interpret,  it's that you had seen me as a young man of 20 in 1960?
and have the chance now to compare that person with a very old man who is turning 78 this year.

My last word: I don't hate myself for my faults--whatever good that I have done, it's up to my family
to decide. But I know they would be biased.

These are my last 5, 7, 8 and at most, perhaps 10 years--I would waste no time
to do what I must, free and unencumbered, letting the world and people go by in their own  way--which means so little to me
(as I have to think of my self-interest first) and then fade away, hopefully without pain and with calm acceptance,
into the night to which I would return no more.  'Someday it would be good to die…', from a poem of Christina Rossetti whose poetry
has inspired several of mine.

Be of good cheer--you have a wonderful family and are already blessed.

Your unpopular friend
M.S  
dated 1st January 2018

Dear Mr Lim
Your chances of being published
are very slim

Signed
Poetry editor April 19th 2019

I like innocent mischief

        it offers so much daily relief

        of numb reason I take leave

        taking things too seriously is endless grief

Be in alignment
with your life:
this is the best way
to do away with strife-

the bow must
the violin fit
if out of congruence
there would be no sweet music-

in one voice
love should speak
otherwise
it might break-

towards the waiting sun
the rose raises its head
in this coming-together
the greatest joy is shared

I will never want to be winner
if that results in someone being a loser

A little knowledge is a fine thing

  if it allows you to live with meaning

Give me only a little love
tender, true and that's all
I need and ask for--the star
sheds its best glow though so small-

give me only a little love
I'll grow more strong and tall
the beauty that thrives in the tiny rose
captures every eye and ceases never to enthral.

Time will tell on me

  myself I can't hide

  not blessed by any beauty

  only in simplicity abide--



  I won't write my life-story

that would merely be pride

what would make me truly happy

is to set all my life's trivia aside

Coming to the end of life, many would wish for a start the second time but sadly this is denied as it's no longer possible.

Vulnerable I am in old age
but will not supplicate or weep
life has to be lived or endured
faith I will keep--

people should not pray
only in their hour of need
religion should find expression
in every thought, word and deed-

acceptance is the greatest wisdom
courage is but of short stay
in the face of every adversity
the enlightened person does not walk away-

if  in this climate I were placed last
in the queue of salvation-- I will readily accept
without rancour, blame or complaint
grateful to be in patience and humility kept.

I had no quarrel with time
     but it looks askance
     as though saying too long
     I have been around
     or worse--that something wrong
     I have done--

     the sentinel eternal
     the judge inimical
     the party unfaithful
     the heart unsentimental

     but
     I'll not be cowed
     to myself I belong
     if life is a battlefield
     I would be my own general

      winter chills in season
      unforgivingly
     but my heart
     shall not be frozen
     man shall never
     be smaller than fate
     there's no glory
     in out--living
     if with meaning
     I have lived

     life's chaos and angst
     has not diminished me
     I have stood up
     with dignity
    
     in my nameless humility
     and my naked humanity
     I am content  
     and joyful
     ( despair and regret
      set aside)
     with what remnant
     to me
     has been given.

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Peter Lim <sonatavivace@gmail.com>
11:06 AM (6 minutes ago)

to me




     I had no quarrel with time
     but it looks askance
     as though saying too long
     I have been around
     or worse--that something wrong
     I have done--

     the sentinel eternal
     the judge inimical
     the party unfaithful
     the heart unsentimental

     but
     I'll not be cowed
     to myself I belong
     if life is a battlefield
     I would be my own general

      winter chills in season
      unforgivingly
     but my heart
     shall not be frozen
     man shall never
     be smaller than fate
     there's no glory
     in out--living
     if with meaning
     I have lived

     life's chaos and angst
     has not diminished me
     I have stood up
     with dignity
    
     in my nameless humility
     and my naked humanity
     I am content  
     and joyful
     ( despair and regret
      set aside)
     with what remnant
     to me
     has been given.

I don't want to fly
I'm scared of any height
as long as I am on my two feet
I'll feel completely all right

I suffer from
roses-allergy
all because
of the rose you first gave me
you pinned it
on my chest
and said
'I'll love you for the rest
of my life and the end of time
believe me'
but your restless heart
went on a wild journey
too soon you said
'good-bye, I'm sorry
I've to go away
our love is not meant to be'.

I can't stand the sight
of roses, especially on Valentine's Day
while lovers their love and kisses exchange
my allergy keeps me away.

The rose does not weep
it knows its withering season
the heart knows when it should sleep
after the rage of passion--

the nightingale has sung
future songs it will keep
when love ceases to be young
age cuts unkindly and its pain runs deep.

Allow me to speak--I would rather
that me you should remember
for my glaring faults (in such large number)
than my few merits--whatever

Nothing is heavier
I dare say
than the weight
of an oppressive thought
that refuses to go away.

All that I am

is enough for me

in my nakedness

you see my totality-



love I can't chase

it might or not find me

I won't weep nor feel pity

I'll accept that which must be

I looked low and high
  for a life- ally
  found finally the one
  who bears the name 'I'

Alone
the more so
I know
me I more own

...but don't chide me

   for choosing to be alone

   amidst life's cacophony

   I risk losing my own-



  none shall rob my liberty

  in solitude, seeds of joy I've sown

  closer to understanding life's mystery

  all my doubts and sorrows are gone

If I can't be alone
myself I can't own

The ambiguity is ours
we mar the hours

Dear Daisy
1    I am a dreamer and write a lot of nonsense. I seldom plan what to write..it's just comes from nowhere
2    life is full of sorrow and having humour gives me another perspective of things---I can't afford to take things too seriously
3   as a humanist, my heart weeps over the tragedy and suffering of people--15,000 kids die A DAY! due to malnutrition
when there's a surplus of food in many countries
4    language and words fascinate me---they are my life and my means of understanding and feeling-
through this, I am able to relate to life and people I meet--how do we use language to make the world a better place?
5   I have talked to nearly every street musician, artist, etc and also have spoken to more strangers than any Melburnian-
out of 10 I talked to, I think 7 responded well--only 2 or 3 regarded me as a con-man.  I am always gladdened when
people trust me implicitly
6    capitalism is bad as it breeds competition and discontent.  Contentment is hard to find in a restless word.
7    I have loved life and this gives me every ounce of strength to meet my death-with utmost tranquillity.
8     Women are tougher and smarter than men and you are the best example.

You write so well and your good-heartedness vibrates through your words.
Knowing you and your husband Morris has meant a lot to me and I count myself most honoured and fortunate.


I remain
yours truly
Peter

Finding a metaphor of life
so many have tried
I'll just call it a burning fire
that goes extinct when I have died--

until then, its flame I'll carry*
through my torch and won't set it aside
my heart shall be a boiling cauldron
to an erupting volcano in kinship allied.

There's no reason
for optimism--at least not now
the air is choking
civilisation has about lost its knowhow

there's every reason
to be pessimistic---a frown
is written on the faces
of people I meet-- in town

and country-- desperation
looms with the lockdown
cities are dead, people live in dread
the fragile are facing a nervous breakdown

amidst this savage ravage
wars and conflicts still abound
the worshipful pray and plead
as hopes turn to dust and drop on the sombre ground

I chose to miss
my life never went amiss

Am I too harsh?
tell me in the name of love
I've given all my trust
do I this rejection deserve?

You said: I love too much
you would rather I don't
but my heart is made of such
walk away admittedly I won't.

You wrote: freedom I seek
your freedom you desire to keep
some words about yourself you couldn't speak
I sense your past hurts still run deep.

Farewell, farewell then
I could not love less
I wish at the end
you would find your true happiness.

The moment      you and I in time
we could have been  so close    but you stood away
I remember     the sky was grey that day
and I did hear      the church bell's solemn chime

strangers?         hardly so     that our hearts did silently know
a vow we made    in youth's sunshine--days    so  long ago
our past         wrapped in silence     captured now only in shadow
a messages   our eyes exchanged     the language of lost-love's sorrow.

What's trusted might not be understood
what's understood might not be trusted

'Hello' she said and just a moment we shared
my heart she touched-- she was intellectually impaired.

There I couldn't stay
I knew I didn't belong
I needed to go away
from the enslaving throng-

no voice I had
I couldn't sing their song
it would have made me sad
even if I knew I would commit no wrong-

they were wildly glad
their voices rang so strong
their uniforms were steel-clad
as in the city they marched along-

those who were in power bred
had ambition in multi-prong
I would rather be dead
than be part of that senseless throng.

It will be easy to repeat
we'd then suspend thinking
the mind is like a mint
currency it would continue printing

such addicted by time compounded
we hardly know the essence of living
night follows day is all we believe in
the persistent grind leads to moral dying.

The moment
    to yourself you said:
    '   I'm wiser than others'
   you courted your very moral death

It's very hard to be truthful
much easier to be a liar
the former is not always fruitful
I readily choose the latter

I am dying, dying     
       regret I've none       
       flowers are still dancing     
       under the glorious sun
           

        I am dying, dying  
       to a new beginning           
        celestial music is playing     
       I'll still be listening

The beach
and I
alone
the winter night
I hear its sigh
mingling
with my own
there are words
in silence
between us
a strange kinship
forged in stillness
I can't explain why
my feet  touch
the soft tender sand
a vibration
it does seem
to travel through
my total being
am I in a dream?

I feel
there's life
hidden
vibrant
in its every particle
and atom
I'm reminded
all at once
nature is a miracle
in every manifestation
open to the sympathetic eye

the sea recedes
at a late hour
it sings a dirge
as though
in a painful cry

the sky
is empty
no cloud
is in sight
the moon shivers
the stars slowly
away they fade
and die

man and nature
each bears a heart
they share rapture
and pain they harbour
against the backdrop
of time and its temper
Sturm und Drang
the sweet and sad songs
they had at the beginning
together embraced
and sung

after tonight
I'll never be
the same again
for life's mystery
I have tasted
and drunk

the hours quicken
the trees they wail
and the winds they sail
in gentle sweep
the leaves are shaken
a voice ethereal drifts
through the waters
the ripples are silenced
I harken
as though
in obedience:
'  I'm the first
  of time
  but willed
  not to be the last
  enchained
  like Prometheus
  to unending years
  yet humans not one
  do know my tears
  and you whom
  I meet tonight
  will carry my message
  and relate my story
and agony
near and far
for how blessed
you humans are
to know
the taste
of mortality'.

I don't want to be
among the smart
it frightens me terribly
how loudly do they ****!

Space
I occupied
in the past
the present
is much about
the experience
of reminiscing-
what went before
could never be re-grasped
yet the images persist
and time it seeks
to overcome and outlast--

nothing would be gained
as is commonly explained
but how could a bird exist
if its wings were clipped?
I am the product cast
and forged in the past
could not otherwise be
that something which is  'me'-

the present is the bridge
spanning years gone
to what has become
an amalgam that goes on
to un unknowable outcome
and I couldn't but think that time
is a man-made phenomenon
that exists in my imagination
and I so often ask:
am I but an orchestration
of a nameless and cold continuum?

I am not dead
so I drift and live
doubting if
I were not a phantom
in a realm
beyond body and mind
reality is not easy
to grasp
even harder
to believe.

But I hear
a nameless song that others can't
do I have special ears?
what power unto me does this strange gift grant?

A tender voice spoke to me
in my dream last night:
your life is tuned in like a melody
your heart's compass has been set right.

Young man, don't you blame me
'twas the wind that lifted my skirt*
I know not what you saw
I wasn't out to flirt--

My dad is a Minister of the Imperial Court
to the Crown Prince I'm betrothed
your thousand love-poems I'll
not read
doubtless I'd be eternally loathed.

.....but we were so young then
       and blood was wildly rushing
       through our every vein-
       our heart was in unstoppable flame
       there was no asking why
       with no rules to comply-
       we wrote our poems
       in rapturous abandon
       in the watching sky-
      
      braver than Ulysses
       stronger than Prometheus:
      ' Our name is Youth
        to us the entire world belongs
        we will never die!'

       It was always bright
       for us-- the watching sky
       so tempting, so inviting
       so friendly, so supporting
      if we had wings then
      towards it we'd readily fly

      and all that while
      time was watching
      not as a sentinel benign
      but like a malicious spy
      to handcuff us
     it seemed to try

     but it badly failed
     our will triumphed
     and set it aside-

    mistakes we did make
    but there's no reason
   for the smallest regret :
   we'd sailed the roughest seas
   the nighest peaks
   who had climbed
   with courage and faith
   on our side-
  
  
   even now
   in our winter-years
   in retrospect
  the same anthem
  we still fervently sing:
' We were young then
   but it remains
   our greatest pride!'.

I'll make a list today
of what items to throw away
I'll even count what words not to say
lesser is a better way to stay

Where's the anchor
of safe haven to be found?
you should be life's author
you set your own holy ground.

When human voices decay
and fade into the wilderness of time
and hopes seem so faraway
I will hold to music my soul to calm-

my forlorn heart will not weep
sorrows will not hurt or numb
I'll put the darkest hours to sleep
and rest in music's welcoming arm.

No, an irretrievable and solemn no
to the young I wouldn't wish to preach
even in these my fast eye-failing years
I know too little and nothing could I teach

for no living-life-well formula
does  I deem ever exist
knowledge is quagmire and sand
thinking belongs to the region of mist-

how I struggled and fell
the tears that brought no relief
the heart is numb and words it couldn't tell
in the limbo of  angst there was nothing to believe-

the little good if any I could do
is to allow the young to reach
out to life in every facade and tryst
in my silence their fondest dreams I wouldn't breach.

..and soon enough
comes the last draw
time has swallowed
all the past-
slowly
the hours crawl
into the vague
and uncertain
the sight stops short
at the forbidding wall-

is it life
or destiny
that makes
the call?

or is
our will
that would
not give up
at all?

and soon enough
the game would
have played
and everything
would have ended
by then
day would have sunk
into nightfall

if we have held
our own
till the last
where would
there be the downfall?