Glimpses
guesses
conjectures
the weariness
the uneasiness
the going-nowhere
the stresses
these
our inheritances
as life passes
surreptitious
mysterious
leaving vestiges
of hints and vagueness
before us-

we are not born
to know-what weltschmerz!
the futility and sorrows
of knowledge!

I
you
they
and life-

the inseparable quartet
we are

in our being together :
every day
our drama
is played

When I was twenty
I felt like forty
thereafter
I thought like someone
of sixty
time slipped by
too swiftly
I grew to be eighty
and realised
all my thoughts
were faulty

epilogue:

when I am one hundred
I would be history
which would record:
don't you know
life at any age
would never cease
to be folly?

I ain't handsome
charm I've none
poor in ordinary speech
nothing of worth can I reach-

never went to school
I'm a farmer's son
worked daylong
until the setting of sun-

can't read or write
but conversant
with every flower
and plant--content

you're rich and pretty
why would you want
to marry me?
That would be your total misery!

Oh, so you said, now I see:
'  A good gardener
  makes a great lover!'
  if so, I'll marry thee--readily !

2019---this is without any doubt-
   Trump ranting and vituperating in White House
   Putin drinking his favourite ***** in Moscow and strategising
   Kim watching military parades and eating kim-chee in bouts

   each has their own agenda
   stamping their feet in loud shouts
   conflicts, hunger and suffering persist
   gun-shots and bullets fly to reach the clouds!

White slender flowers

dancing in light summer breeze

against purple sky

Taking leave
of thoughts
words no longer
oppress. I'll not succumb
to habitual thinking
for I'm  seeking
to waken new neural paths-
there's a whole continent
I'm yet to discover. And it's
right within my grasp.

Vocabulary is the mind's architecture and I've become
just part of its frames. I'll rebuild, enlarge, refine, ornate and modify
and in a new home I'll live.

I'll emerge a different man
as I take leave of my present thoughts.

The day
it's not about
what I say
only that I may
do what I should
  the trivia
  cast away.

You will resurrect
from the ruins of memory
and speak in the deepest night to me:
all that had been was pure glory.

We will recollect
scenes that spoke of love's endless beauty
let the years flee as they must into every century
yet our hearts shall still be green and free.

Middle age
the stage
of stress of marriage
and mortgage

Death can wait

life is beckoning

I must celebrate

Every 'I'
as long as it exists
is but an unknown
hidden cry.

Since it's so hard
to please other people
I decided to be kinder to myself
this caused me much less trouble.

......but I am into the moment and don't think whether I am happy or not--- happiness is but a word-- meaning is found in my engagement with what's required of me by the moment.  I enjoy doing 'my thing', in my silence, unnoticed---it's just me in deepest absorption--time I forget, even my self.

If I have applied my best, in honesty and earnestly,  perhaps I would realise that state but I don't go around seeking the elusive happiness

I went to the river yesterday. I wasn't myself. No one knew the spot. I discovered it on my own, by sheer chance, in a faraway wood. I guarded my secret jealously. I was selfish and would not want to share it with anyone. I was only fifteen then.  Mum would ask: where did you go? when I returned for dinner and I would say: I visited a friend.

When I was sad, a whole day I would linger there . I remember that event so clearly. I failed my physics paper and was chided by my teacher and later by my parents. I rushed to my sanctuary and wept bitterly. The questions were too hard. The teacher was not fair. Life is not fair.

The hours slipped away fast. The wood was darkening as twilight was descending. I was hungry and though inconsolate I rushed home. And I knew mum would worry if I stayed away too long.
( to continue )

Writing in HP today from Melbourne

End of spring, hot weather makes its unpleasant appearance--heat will consume Aussies for 3 months. Old people in poor health are vulnerable and some would die--common knowledge. Bush-fire warnings. Black Friday would be long remembered--many were killed and Queen Elizabeth sent her condolences to the mourning nation. A few arsonists caught nearly every year!

The beaches will be crowded--Down Under has wonderful beaches.  Bare-chested females will attract curious eyes of males, especially the young ones'
(I am an old man but casting a look costs nothing and my wife doesn't mind the least--she would say--Your eyes might fall off if you gaze too long!). But I love to look at the kids playing on the beach or dipping their feet in the water.  How avidly do they look for pebbles
and shells!  Mothers' shouting---Kids, don't venture too far--wear your hats! We have the largest incidence of melanoma  Couples rest under coloured umbrellas (the stalls that lease these make good money!)--we are a nation of beer-drinkers and our pubs with history dating to the early 1800's ! Billions spent on grog--we produce great wine (thanks to nature and the pioneer-growers and wine-makers from Europe)--foreign tourists must visit our vine-yards and wineries--they would not regret--great restaurants
exist alongside, mostly owned by the winery-owners.  A$ 50 to 60 pp
starter, main and wine of your choice but sadly no music...

How dreadful is our transportation system! Not the place to discuss this. Sydney has a quick tram to the airport but we poor long-suffering Melburnians  have been left out--yesterday the authorities announced--work will begin within A DECADE--****** off, I would be long dead!  50% of trams to where I live don't have air-con (we use the term Air) and I dread travelling to the city--I don't have a driving-licence--tests are very demanding--one woman took 60 times over 30 years and failed--true story!

Don't wear flowers on your hair when you come to Australia--Aussies aren't romantic people--too frank, abrasive, caustic (not all), with
dry humour, they love to swear, women included, everyone is a mate
(pronounced as MITE), BTW, English is quite out of date here-
we have our own lingo--Stringe....unique in the English-speaking world... Newspaper editors should take English tests-
its (the genitive case) is written it's; in REGARDS** to, spectacular? fire for ferocious--people die in fires--what's so spectacular?
don't know the word schadenfreude?,  forecasted??? (business news),
I shouldn't go own lest I weep....

don't read sonnets to Aussies--don't talk literature or philosophy-
talk about beer, footy, the bets on horses, they dislike the intellectual-
everyone is MITE, FAIR DINKUM, LARRIKIN....

We have a national anthem-ADVANCE AUSTRALIA FAIR with tune that's un-singable and lyrics so bad that you would spew....
Those Olympic winners of ours mumbled when they were expected to sing)
Another national anthem? Have a national poll on a new one?

A Republic without the Queen? But many still adore her...politicians who favour a R. are unhappy.

Why did I come here from another land?  
It's fate--I am a fatalist all through.

Somehow, Down Under has its charms..its quirky features apart.
Made many good friends.

I live the day--I write in HP....I live a very simple life in the eastern suburbs, keep a rose-garden...no rearing of pigs, chooks...
Quarrel with my long-suffering wife about once a week.. it has become a habit but we forget in 5 minutes!

I have little to complain about life in Down Under

11 am, Melb time, 27th Nov

Is it true time could go
forever round and round
be ignored and then perish if
on earth no human were found?

You can't totally trust your banker
  save more, borrow little--you'll be happier!

Why is day male
and night female?
the former is keen to show off
the latter is shy and hides away

Not yet
nay-
never
I should say

my words
are dust
that the winds
blow past

what I write
does not

crack the wall
or safe

nor:
open
any door

move
any mountain
or hill

make
any flower grow

stop
the rain
from falling

cause:
the sun
to shine

the moon
and stars
to show

persuade
the snow
to be less cold

wipe away
tears
in sad hearts

provide
food
for hungry boys and girls

give
hope
to a dying world-

all that I know
my words
would perish
immediately
after spoken-

this only
is my few words
for you--
reply
if you love me
then
they would find
their true worth.

We are the civilised
and most-informed breed
but have surrendered
our right to lead-

tribes-people we have
been converted into
the 'head-person' is electronic
step by step it inveigles
it's the shepherd
we are the lost sheep-

it's the mastermind
every thinking mode
it invents--we are hooded
here's the demise
of thought
the prison of feeling
and conscience
ideas fade and rot
the arts and creativity
they are all dead
and buried--

it knows no bounds
and this it does articulate:
' more, infinitely more
shall be brought
to enrich, empower and endow
don't think the future
would replicate the now
this is but a single dot
in the spectrum of things to come-

a collective mind
would come about
encompassing every nation
every people
every place
and space

the ruler
shall claim
the title
of 'The Universal Brain'
it's the 'Powerhouse of Reason'

the stars and the moon
shall learn to speak
the sea would know
how to sing alongside the waves
all non-human life
would languages acquire
and with us it would talk
and communicate
even the flowers
plants and trees
would be made to walk-

love shall be
a phenomenon
forgotten
an amorous apparatus
shall be built
into the heart
its feelings and emotions
shall be monitored
a printout leaves
the Electronic Domain'
with either one
of two words:
' Failed' , 'Passed'--
  courtship and marriages
  are subject to control
and scrutiny
lest irresponsibility
and folly
pollute love's beauty--

we would have been trained
to accept, obey and comply
and shall never complain
for we have the tribal mind
we would never dare to contend
all shall be deemed technical perfection
there would be nothing more
to refine, revise, modify or amend-

we shall all be assigned
a new name
that bears testimony
to the tribe that defines us
( in our electronic identity
none shall meet with any shame)
we'll stand by one another
we are of the same brand
never to split asunder--

you would know
my name
remembering
is this easy-
it's just  ' IT'.

Keep your words
hold back your action
this isn't the time
for you to commit-
save yourself
from an unsavoury outcome-

abide by your time
know when to stay still
move or climb-
everything has its reason
weigh carefully
be very patient
think clearly
before  you decide
to jump!

There's much more to life than knowledge
sometimes I stretch out my hand the sun to catch

Creatures and humans
they cast upon me an evil eye
as I in the muddy river
silently glide by-

they say I am nature's freak
how they praise other creatures under the sky
the birds, the fishes, the dogs and cats
the grasshopper, the dragon-fly and the butterfly-

why am I singled out
as the 'bad guy'?
kids who dream of me
at midnight they wake to cry-

my right to existence
that to me all nature and mankind deny
how I wish to have access to cyanide
to end this sorrow and happily die.

Too many dreams do perish

the dreamers they over-stretch

only a few should they cherish

the best outcome they would fetch

Verily life is malaise
such view is ubiquitous
a mountain of ruined hopes
too many moments tempestuous-

where's the peace and joy?
the common theme is worry and misery
yesterday was travail, today is angst
what good would come from the next day to be?

Once upon a time
but I wasn't there
not part of the plot
of a fairy-tale-

now here I am
can only say
I was a little boy then
life was my daily play-

the radiance of innocence
smiles without guile
purity of heart and soul
that made angels cry-

life the restless ceaseless river
once had a glimpse of what was I
it didn't stop nor speak a word
nonchalantly it sped by-

there wasn't 'once upon'
fairy-tales are  just dreams that lie
time ravages all hopes, love and hate
it's long past my hour--now it's goodbye

When numbers grow
problems there will be more-
if I'm myself all alone
how can I quarrel with some 'whom'?

Seeing is not the physical looking
but a rare and delicate art
the substance is sadly missing
unless it's accompanied by the heart.

To succeed

we don't think of it

in excelling in our deed

the peg will fit

I have read and reread him.  His prose is excellent and borders on the poetical and transcendental---he conveys his ideas very well and nothing is obscure to me.  He's melancholic but not tragic;
in his dark despair, he still loves life; noting that life is brief, he opens his heart and mind to its possibilities and contradictions;
he lived by what he wrote; he conquered life and death in his unflinching faith in the ultimate decency of things.

In his smile, there was irony and, in his looks, he was a distant dreamer.

I know the stars are angry
     I am stuck- up, so they say
     but I can't speak to so many
     90% of them live so faraway!

Old age is pills
and medical bills

In my heart sharply
these words are etched:
'you struggle as a writer
you are not quite yet'--

an exhortation, a reminder
so timely, so true, so appropriate
just a searcher, a sojourner, a learner
that I vow to take heed, never to forget--

does it matter at all
if I should fail to reach the gate
of the masters and the sages?
I have no cause ever to regret--

a few close fellow-travellers
at my dying hour would come near my bed
my simple happy epitaph I would leave them:
'  I am the dreamer you well knew--the writer 'not quite yet' '.

Good morning

Good afternoon

(Feeling not so good

At night)

A lie then

To say 'Good night'

Ergo and in summary:

Not a good day!

Life is weather
fine or foul, whether

Under night street-lamp
couple clung to each other
mindless of drizzle

Each season
has its own heart
it carries a lesson
to impart--

can you feel
its pulse? hear
what it says
at that time of the year?

in different undertones
but the same is each message:
' we are your life-companions
  every moment and at any age-

love and beauty you must cherish
write it in your life's every single page
ere the flowers bow low and sigh as their glory vanish
claim these treasures as your rightful heritage'.

There's beauty in the latent
I will wait, I will be patient

Life is millions upon millions
layers and layers of minutes slipping away-
the pain, the angst and joy of things
the in-between of time---the day
in successive moments and moods-
we are the actors and we are the play
unfolding.  The present we survey
the past we reflect, poised into the unknown
of what's to follow next.  The anticipation
the expectation--   the here and there--
the this and that we have to weigh and compare--
now the crackling laughter and chatter
that within winks sinks away--
the sun its complexion changes
the clouds gather and then they scatter
tempus fugit
that's it

you are reading this
and the minute is slipping away
have I been a nuisance or hindrance
have I made or spoilt your day?

The grass remembers me
last night in my dream
to me it spoke--its voice
was clearer and warmer
than any human's:

'  on me you had so often trodden
   I remember every step of yours
   but you had long forgotten-

  you were a toddler
and your mum said-
walk, you can, walk, my boy
you can--you fell on me
and she came to lift you up
I watched- the scene
almost brought tears
to my eyes-

then you went to school
taller, stronger, surer
on your way home
you would throw
your school-bag on top
of me and lie down to rest
amidst the sound of birds-
you were a dreamer
and often a song to yourself
you would sing
and I too remember
on a certain day you
were reading Homer
there in the green
you would linger
and wander
only to return home
at a late evening hour--

how could I forget
that spring when you
brought your dear Emma
and sat on me as you turned
your head to whisper
the secrets of your heart
to her?
how her eyes did glitter
and love was written all over
her radiantly dreamy face
ah, youth's splendour and ardour!
  
on your wedding day
a party was held on the lawn
which was my home
and to myself I said:
this little boy I knew
long ago
is a man now
Emma he didn't let down
surely their love would grow
their happiness would know
no measure--

the happiest days
of your life came-
with your kids
you played at the spot
where I first met you
I shared your every joy
and laughter-

now as you walk on me
your steps are slower
and lighter
you seem calmer
gentler and quieter
hand-in-hand
your walk with Emma
you know not
I can feel
I can understand
the mysterious wonder
of the human heart
yes, you have forgotten
all that's gone before
but I remember
and will not cease
to remember.

Fairtale cottage

blurs the edge of reality

supreme fantasy

Most days are neither special nor exceptional
set your aims right, do only that which you can handle

A child
then
an adolescent
growing to be a man-

in my twenties I never doubted
the world had no end
of possibilities-- life
would just gladly hold my hand

and open before my eyes
to all wonders and its generosity lend
as my dreams with such passion I pursued
in every circumstance or at any bend

of time-- but the now before me
is an unwelcome wakening-- a friend
it is not but a teaser and mocker
a spoiler of my every plan

what should an adult
tell a child?  ' I've no message to send
you but just a warning-- beware
when you are older you' d understand

dreams don't last and hopes are fragile
however strong and unwavering you make your stand
living is never an easy crossing and too often
you'd  find yourself walking upon sinking sand?'

Birds perch on old rock

as emerald tides close in

a new day is born

In response to a post:

..but you can always give yourself what the world can never--
this alone will grant you the courage and wisdom to move forward as you will have become your own torch-bearer

To me, poetry is larger than nature as it is able to enter into the soul
of all creation--in its worship of the beautiful and the truthful, it transcends all things and phenomena, and becomes the universal speaking voice of man's loftiest feelings and thoughts.  It outlives life and immortalises the human spirit.  Poets die but not their poetry.

An extra word
to a good friend
and the friendship
came to an end!

If life were
   understood
   completely
   we'd have nothing
   more to live for  
   being stultified
   and empty
   all wonder
   would have died

   no more teaching
   nor writing
   there's no need
   for reading or inventing
   superfluous is every thinking

   the morphing
   of  the intellect
   creativity in waning
   the self in annihilating
   and the dehumanising
   of every human undertaking

Not wounded
nor paralysed
but the desolate lingering
life that's marginalised-

the pause, steps faltering
time that's circumcised
living has lost its shimmering
nothing is left to be energised.