To Ring the Bell

A Book of Experimental Sonnets

Noël Tointon

2010

I dedicate this book
To David 
And all lovers 
Past, present and future…
And those who delight 
In such rapport…

Introduction

	I have set out to write a book of one hundred experimental sonnets (and to date have completed only fifty plus five more inserted into a poem submitted for the Blake Prize 2010). In this attempt I wish to be faithful to the spirit of the sonnet despite playing with verse and rhyming structures whilst generally maintaining an iambic pentameter. Again, the use of italics is meant to give the text a different texture and an additional or contrasting ‘space’ to be perceived by the visual reader of these pages. Within fourteen lines I wish to create, or recreate, a subtle emotional atmosphere through a juxtaposition of images and emotions. In some of these poems an erotic flavour has been imparted with a licence whose threaded collectivity need not completely reflect upon the life of the poet. Each poem is a different structural experiment except those poems that are paired through an identical or near identical structure and are therein meant to be read as a pair (and those poems are signalled with an asterisk). Hopefully, some of these poems might find an evocative mirror in the life of my reader?
			
					  Noël Tointon, Sydney, 30.6.10.

	Today, fulfilled this ambition of writing a set of one hundred sonnets (albeit somewhat experimental in tone). I have tried to write great poems but all fall short, are ripped apart through faults and flaws… I Would, for a start, admit to wanting a greater density of visual imagery, but, find myself more obsessed with a psychological (and philosophical) landscape and it is across that type of ground they should be more closely judged… naturally addressing the theme of love in all its incarnated forms… directly and indirectly… and in that vein I leave my reader in this one hope that they might find some common empathy evoked in that regard….

Noël Tointon, Sydney, 20.12.10.

					  

Part I

New Year

New Year is celebrated by the young
But then by those more old it signs off clear
The last twelve months as time again seen out,
That one survives on so to ring the bell 
That states “I am still here”, albeit well
A small detail, a subtle point about
A difference ‘tween those of youthful air…
An observation that could slip the tongue…

But then there comes a point all’s seen before,
A wiser soul will take a greater joy
In the delight of every moment spent…
Expertly had as if each drop were lent,
Each falling grain of sand were to deploy
A world waiting within to self explore…! (1)

Anger

Angry words said out-loud more anger feed,
Leave unabated a puffed self felt pricked
Enough to loudly vent its ruffled spleen,
A tide that knows to fall not back between 
The ebb and flow of thoughts that sad afflict 
The streams of life left clogged by such a weed…

More dramatic displays are best forgot,
Our busy world is rife with too much strife,
Look all about, can you not see the pain
Deeply ingrained upon this mad terrain,
That bitter curses spat	are but a knife
To wound once more, again, our rattled lot..?!

Think specks of dull, dark dust that loud declaim 
Their wiles and woes deserve no better fame…! (2)

His Worth

His worth was measured in the depth of loss…

Departure of one dear is surely felt,
We must await their usual re-entrance,
Once more through that same door to come back in…

Their death, alas, perceives no real return,
Only symbolic signs of appearance,
Tokens, remind us that once here they dwelt…

Today their place was set as if to dine,
A photo torn and faded put in frame
To stand again upon the mantelpiece…

His laugh has gone, dissolved in time and space,
Those souls too young cannot recall his name,
No more than lichened letters ‘pon a stone…

His worth was measured in the depth of loss…. (3)

When Thee Await

All week will try to think of thee no more,
But, then, that day will come when thee await…
How time is drawn before that squeak of gate,
From flagstones, footsteps file towards the door…

Your signature is tapped upon the frame, 
Your key inserts and turns within the lock,
The rusty screen is opened out with mock
“Hello” whilst pushed wood door intones your name…

No words need now be said when deep we look
And find what both of us now longing seek…
How sweet that hour is kissed when cheek to cheek,
One wordless song is sung from one hymnbook…

We linger here before our midnight tea,
Whilst holding hands, one cup is shared… with Thee…. (4)

From Lamp Upon the Street

No fancy moonlight strikes your face tonight,
Because, behold, from lamp upon the street,
Through its more colder glow, shadows highlight
To age in wrinkled time what death must greet…

How human form pervades angelic shape,
Despair perfection ever moves away,
Sour streams that strip, erode an old landscape…
Allow a corpse to grin each waking day…

With this relief I find endearment made,
If love divine has feet of flesh and falls,
Lives on a human stage, my fears displayed
Lift from this furrowed brow’s four beating walls…

I sigh, and see beauty in fading skin,
Find fine delight in his fragile design…! (5)

Touched by Absence

In feelings a palpate presence is caught 
In touch when we be tapped or contact make,
How, then, can sad absence profoundly shake
Our world of sense, when our rapport is naught..?

With earnest face, he said, he leaves before 
The end of lunch when earthly shadows shrink;
Which gives, with grief, a painful pause to think:
He left ahead of noon… and by back door..?

Such thoughts might well portray that fated day
When this suggestion soon to meet next week
Was hinted at, but now a month can speak
Of him no trace, that fear now fills my day…

Ten thousand ways outline themselves in thought
From being sacked, or sick, to death… be brought…? (6)

I Know She Knows

Gaunt is this woman’s face behind the till!
I know she knows what fate for you befell,
But, then, the secret nature of my quest
Would be revealed, laid bare, for all to see…
That tent’tive lovers we might shortly be.
My open plight to court could be addressed…
Not here to buy, nor sell, but fears dispel,
Locate my love, extend to him goodwill…

But know her knowledge sought would be forsworn,
That with my age to add a beardless youth
Would seem to her a double sin, in truth,
Call forth a whirling wind of silent scorn..!

Yet is it wrong for aged wine to find
A fresh made cup, a draught to drink… combined…? (7)

Not Knowing

How real, and so intense this pain! Despair
Itself has gripped me in dark doubt – am left
Through knowing not, yet knowing I’m bereft,
As if my Love could vanish, disappear…

How deep this absence, wide this net of fear,
This no man’s land, across a realm of theft
That steals my peace of mind… all shook and cleft
Wondering if alive… still holds me dear..?

With sadness am aware that time can calm
The windswept ripples from this heaving tide,
But what fine use is that, I cannot hide;
Only my Love could rub on me this balm…

In anguished prayer give up, hereby resign,
Let fortune show the force of its design…! (8)

A Wandering Pilgrim Be

About the town a wandering pilgrim be;
Now walk in trance, revisit distant past
In hope can catch a sight of him; re-see
Those sites where he did smile, and spoke to me…
No trace of him observe; nor reliquary;
No footprints placed nor sideways shadows cast;
No footsteps heard, nor dulcet tones, of thee…
As Love had never been, could never be…
How oft I thought had caught a fragile glance,
Would see thy face, the outline of thy mask,
Impose upon some other youth thy stance,
Quick to dissolve when pricked again by chance…
Find streets are empty fields; in thought bemoan,
A haunted ghost am I, who walks alone…! (9)

A Paradox

Am shaken to the core, cannot decide,
A fallen leaf am I; a paradox;
As leaden heavy weight; a sack of rocks
Or downy feather made, a fairy ride..?
Am naked in my grief; turned inside out;
A stalking robot form; without my feet
In touch upon the ground; on pause, delete,
And programmed upside down; left pricked with doubt…
An old uprooted tree; now hacked to bits,
Put back together then, with nails and screws;
Picked up and turned around; for firewood use;
Then drowned in icy rain; interred in pits…
I am no more a man, a hopeless soul,
Condemned to die in life, without a goal…! (10)

Content…

As blind, as deaf… and dumb… find my passage
Through this cold, empty winter world of ice
And snow no more in search of Him, privilege 
No more my Love… shall walk with this advice.
As blind, as deaf… and dumb… find mindfulness
A better course to steer, one foot in front
Of other… seek a path kept clear, cloudless,
A mere cipher upon a white pavement…
As blind, as deaf… and dumb… without delight
Reach work and home, or talk with faithful friends,
A frosted glass I pass before their sight,
As diverse things to all, as means – not ends…
As fragile as a bubble burst now see intent,
As vacant as a moonless night… content…. (11)

Ahoy

“Ahoy…” with wave and grin am made to see,
See Him, my Love, upon the street, await
A local bus… he says “am never late,
So what the heck… lets take some tea… coffee?”

With nervous smile points out favourite café,
Tells me has now a better job up town,
Flexible hours, prospects, now sits me down
On corner chair with gentle nudge to say:

“I miss you man… and know we planned to meet,
Want you… and feel you deep inside my heart,
I know you well, not whom to call, no art 
Is found to find from face what name to greet..!

Our earthly tags intoned, on cells preset,
Discreetly saw cold hands had warmly met…. (12)

Patience

Both men and gods might plot and plan but fate
Oft drives a course that runs quite counterwise…

So who are we to then reverse the spate
Of tidal flow and flood through fevered cries..?
What fool would say the winding path of love
Is straight as Cupid’s arrows random shot..?
So who are we to curse Fortune above
When duty calls and certain times are not..?
With ardent sought desire, a short moment 
In slow eternity, is not too long 
To wait, that patient dreams be heaven sent…
Since hymns must first be sung in drawn-out song…

The wise will wait their turn, savour the event,
Find through delay a deeper Love unspent…! (13)

So Far Apart

We be today, tomorrow too, apart,
So far apart, and, yet, in bed is heard 
Thy voice… all thanks to modernist art,
Fine crafted toys, that prayers be part answered…
With eyes just shut we talk and chat, impart
A movement to desire almost absurd
That through imagined thought alone rechart
A course near shared with space no more sundered…
Our time together too by such device
Can now be neatly tied, in text conjoined,
In darkness of the night secrets entice
A sure partner in crime through thoughts purloined:
If sadness takes a friend – its halved and lost…
With joyful investment – exceeds all cost…! (14)

With Awe…*

Such site – ten thousand pointed pins of light,
At night, puts perspective on man-made plight…

Escape the city if you can and when 
You do in darkness of the sleeping day
Observe the sky and with a wonder see
Arrayed before our puny self a play
Here only dimly trapped by feeble pen …

Why worry that your friend delayed their call,
No longed for letter in the post’s been sent,
That they forgot to smile or spoke… sharply,
Interpret what you may… ascent… descent…
Our watch is but a ‘stage of cats that crawl…’

Ignore all anguish through this stellar tour,
With awe… find self mere laps a milky shore…! (15)

As Stars We Be*

From dusk to dusk our humble path is passed…
But, ask, what dearth that be so downward cast..?

If time be tolled what bells be boldly chimed?
Naught but near midday hour… and here we stand
And blinking steer… such stuff as stars we be…
As blinkered creatures finding what’s to hand
But blind to find the rhythmic world is rhymed…

With patient friend or courting lover take
One deep, dark night upon the side of hill,
Away from light of urban sprawl, and sea, 
Perceive just where we swim within the spill
Of twinkling space, in this vast inky lake..?

Sail soon through sky’s symphonic air bestrewn,
Sing tuneful part, feel piece and place, commune…! (16)

What Fuels This Fire?

With paper in the grate, small log and coal
A fire is made to start with match-lit spill,
And then with golden spark aglow with skill
Expands to soon devour, with luck enroll,
The timber placed above this point of light
And so, anon, a roaring fire takes hold,
Enlists the shiny black lumps careful doled
That feed the flames, make for romantic night…

What fuels this fire, I ask myself in thought,
That lets it burn as hot as this red plume?
Should like meet like and arc or diff’rence, chance
Prefer diff’rence to just combust, make sport..?
Or, is it true that change must self-consume,
Co-opt a closer space, more even stance…? (17)

A Simple Smile

To somehow deal with that other person
In trade one thing is passed for something new.
At local shop some coins or notes withdrew
Or from a plastic card value taken…

From beloved a simple smile was shown
And in return would quickly grin and mused
That happy swift commerce had merely used
The gift and the return of same token..?
In this event to what extent there see
Some factor more than mere mirror beheld..?
But, no, for I was seen, through love compelled
To know how dearly sought we both now be..!

Between his beam and mine new sense transpires,
To shift, reshape a world of shared desires…! (18)

An Acted Stage

From drawer is took my bundled socks and found
When dropped they bounced, beneath the chair would hide…
But pulled apart and cast on floor espied
No more would bip and bop along the ground…
Where now be thy reflected jump once found,
What gain, what loss is made, or, be denied,
Once broken up… and should this fact applied
Imply atoms escape the known compound...?
Where then be us in this, what freedom gained
If simple souls be made discretely cast,
As if a single die be rolled unseen,
Or, should the world be shown to be ordained
An acted stage where roles be plied and classed
Through drama of contrast as dull or keen…? (19)

In Hunger Long To Eat*

Enough with waiting still, enough, enough,
In hunger long to eat and eat we must,
A short delay is fine but when in love
The banquet beckons, giving in to lust..!

Those crystal eyes like goblets be with wine,
A thirst takes hold that pulls me ever in,
Thy mouth’s a bowl of reddest fruit divine
And know no more just where one should begin..!

Enough with eating on, enough, enough,
There’s time to rest… and time to wake once more…
A long, long sleep is fine for when in love
One sheltered port beyond the storm adore...!

Sadly, spoilt world believes we sail about
Like jetsam tossed, found spent… and filled with doubt…! (20)

Countryside*

From morning shower a wavy field of corn
Ripples in rays of sun; a thousand gleams 
Of light now seem to glance across unshorn
Harvest in soft brown spray of dancing beams…

In midday heat a shimm’ring lake of wheat
Has caught the golden glow broadcast from high,
In haze and dust the clouds no more compete 
Upon a meadow domed with shade to spy…

At sinking of the solar disc admire
The reddened brownish tinge that paints this grass,
A fresh whipped breeze now skips across the fire
That deftly burns and sculpts a moving mass…

But love of land, left bare in moonlit night
Reveals through dappled cloud a special site…! (21)

Observing the Horizon

Up steps we walked until we reached the top,
Enjoyed the view and with a few words spoke
Recalled that time we met… when eyes said all…

We leaned upon the lookout rail, the drop
Took in, now arm and arm in laughter joke
How fragile world must one day fail… and fall…

The past has flesh in now, portrays full-stop;
Through signs portends that point when laws revoke;
But, till that day, those laws also forestall…

In wonder watch, observe the rock outcrop
That horizontal line, a finite cloak
Yet to the fertile mind will form no wall…

Each boulder made is born and worn and broke
But never lost beyond a last recall…! (22)

We Smile

How common yet so strange this thing called thought,
I swear upon your face is read this book,
Your love for me reflects my love for you…

We smile and inward gaze, find other sought
In secret signs and deeds, betrayed in look
Both sweet heartfelt and pained in longed for view…

A few said words need spoken be for caught
The train of themes here finds same babbling brook
To wend its way between the old and new…

We deign to touch, hold hands, a state felt fraught
With danger feared and yet we be mistook
For love has made us same, one issue too…

Although be covert twins like fish to hook
With argued bait, in sport, debate outdo…! (23)

From Distant Shores

The day trips on, how unfilled hours seems drawn
To dig on in, at times move backwards too!
Alas, my Love to foreign land has gone…

With him my thoughts have flown in sad review,
Now miss his touch, though needed not when he
Is here… how absence aches, without rescue…

One finds one’s way as if it broadly be
Reset in rock that breaks… with each new stride…
My step re-sinks in concrete thick, unfree…

With sodden heart awash upon this tide
Am dragged on back and forth through daily chores,
You see me work… but can you see inside..?

But, then, agreed, a call is made, small pause,
Short cryptic text is sent from distant shores…. (24)

The Whirlwind

So sad the will that deep ingrains a thought, 
Held right or wrong, a single fixed motif,
All else denounced, in violent relief;
Denied, swift passionate response is wrought…
Why buy with blood what could be market bought;
Through argument by logic said; belief
Affirmed before a public court; less grief,
Less heartache formed when path is open sought…

Why push a fact when truths should self-present,
Announce their force, reveal their course like wind
That rattling moves dead leaves in evidence…
Let go, I sigh, let go, relax… prudent
The soul that waits, mere watches the whirlwind
As it unwinds the way it will, make sense…! (25)

Is This My Skull..?

In bed: is this my skull that’s held in hand..?

Encased in skin and hair and leaden set
To rest in palm… with pillow wet with sweat..?

How mortal made is man from birth to death,
A grinning stage that hides behind a mask
Until we move no more upon last breath…

But smile we must… and smile we should… for most
Will wilful march or wayward waltz… each task…
Performed to wear away all thought to ask
What rot, disease, decay… will doom this host..?

We know the gods can not forever play;
Forget all goals… we be no letters sent.
Take heart… and rip this missive, brief… and say:
“Be read right here… enact our best intent…!” (26)

Master-Mistress*

A simple butterfly can shake the world,
And this I can attest, the briefest kiss
Has set my heart to flutter so… and miss
A beat… in flights of love be forward hurled..!

A single spark can burn a forest town,
And this I can attest, one lovely smile
Has set my mind ablaze… to burn, beguile,
In mental flame… to melt, be smelted, drown..!

A subtle touch can launch a monstrous ship,
And this I can attest, a longing hug
Has me upon another course, a drug
Whose drunken thrall is took in sip by sip…

How disruptive the path of transformed life
Where lovers both become ‘husband-and-wife’…! (27)

Master-Slave*

One stupid step might find atonement not,
And this I know, as if a game of chess
Without an end, for here am sad, confess
My thoughtless hurt would see no healing sought..!

No closure reached, for how can one move on,
And this I know, if death now partners you,
To send me out to dance alone… adieu,
Farewell my friend… now deaf… and dumb… and gone..!

One meant no ill, at least, no fixed ill-will,
And this I know, your loss is much more mine
That now no more can make amends, align
An inner self with forgiveness instil..!

More deeply bound should know each second die…
While some to live again… revive… and sigh…! (28)

Forgetting Names*

The more things change the more they stay the same,
But wonder if real things can have a name..?

Did know of you and loved your sight before
Could call out loud to you upon the street.
A thousand cars would pass between, no wave
Of mine nor cry could catch the sad contour
Of your fixed eye or ear till my discrete
Touch tapped upon your arm found you less grave…

So names have power, can shift and shape the world
When we expertly call, pronounce their sound,
As if a spell, with magic made to move
A landscape locked in tune to future hurled…
And if that be their work… forgo profound
Beliefs that seek what we can never prove…! (29)

Remembering Names*

Beneath the sheets of white waves bedded down 
With sleeping dreams of swirling surf… I drown…

Within a borderland between our thought
And thoughtless sleep in fear I call on out
To Him who is my Love whose name’s now lost;
I swear upon my lips, on tongue is caught;
Knows surely not which way to move about…
With heaving heart am saddened by this cost…

Above a sandless beach he calls my name,
In his smooth arms now find refuge… and home,
Is such a dream that He be here, now badges me
With gasping kiss, this breath of life, can claim
One tag? …‘Though both remain a muted gnome
In speechless flux upon a floating sea…! (30)

Avatars*

Most men of faith believe the Gods descend,
Take on a human form, can wander past,
Dispense a needed care to those downcast,
Or chose a soul, profound love make, attend
Upon their choice as if an earthly friend,
An echoed shadow who remains steadfast,
A scented smile whose perfumed stay will last,
Resets a novel course, a different trend… 

For such a man are you who walked my way,
With lingered looks, who sought me day by day,
A skilful fisher be, with hooks that prick
Me not, but reel me in, leave me lovesick,
To drown in restive air, cast high and dry…
This saint whose touch is life… each time I die…! (31)

O Saintly One*

O saintly soul, your painful death is mine…
Have heard you crying out, my name assign 
Upon last breath, my sudden death forseen,
Embraced, we parting kiss, in night serene
Must slip away, permit the dark to claim
Another day, a world of dreams proclaim…

Upon this steadfast ship of state we sail,
A hand-held virtual world no more on fire,
We walk across the void without desire
To find a joy in air we both inhale,
Rejoin a deeper space without travail…
If only time in sleep could e’re inspire
An ideal calm, a perfect peace acquire…
Alas, we wake and kiss, our rest derail…! (32)

In His Shadow

Along the busy beach we walk as one,
Upon his fresh, imprinted footprints place 
My feet to leave a row of tracks whose trace
Runs just above the sinking tidal run…

We backward look and laugh, if only life
Could move so smooth, be so intently laid…
But here what’s writ will soon completely fade,
Despair that fate can have a faithful wife.?!

But, no, take heart, rejoice, what’s done is done,
A fixed fact for all time beneath the sun...!

We have loved well, known how to share, enjoy
The dusk… discreetly touched, the joke consume
Before punchline… and I’ve inhaled perfume 
From moonlit ivy with my beaming boy…. (33)

To Find What’s Found to Hand

‘Tis said: “what you have seen – that’s what you get…”
No more, no less, but wonder why with him
Would feel had dived beneath the mask to skim
Past faults to see what one should not regret…

No secret signs nor soft handshake… eyes met
And looked inside and locked inward on pause 
A micro-moment past what’s safe because
Uprightness hides no lying held secret…

But now am led to think such thought has flaws,
Without a depth nor surface too the way
We see the world is there to hand through play
Of forms desired and gripped by mental claws…

Say I: “what you have got – that’s what you see…”
Naught else… to greet, embrace what’s found to be…! (34)

On Rough Shaped Waves

An angry ocean of hate might be seen
But in its place believe this would have been…

A leaden weight, a coffin, casket, tomb
That heaves upon the sea ‘tween you and me,
One moment light, mere feather weighted down,
But, then, is struck, full force of mass, earthly
In flesh, compressed as if a compact womb…

Desires expressed without a thoughtful form,
On lengthy escalators… down and up…
On rough shaped waves wherein we rightly drown
Amid this hissing cauldron where we sup,
Embrace unsheltered love in such a storm…

How outwardly our death is there perceived,
“But, no” say I, for here all life’s conceived…! (35)

Our Speechless Dance

Perplexed, ponder ‘what is this thing called love?’
So easily named… perhaps, cannot be framed
Between the prison walls of some sentence…
Were it made brief or long, entailed above
Escapes the feeble darts of thoughts well-aimed
And yet in their embrace we meet suspense…

In No Man’s Land we find ourselves half-there,
Left face to face, with twinkling eyes, engaged,
And held by hand, we find our lips have met…
In touch with fate, to traipse beyond our fear
To see our steps in soulful search assuage 
All unreal doubt with two hearts linking set…

Divine the time when entwined mortals laugh,
Yet short their speechless dance upon this path…. (36)

Between Change and Continuity?

Most change is slow, and subtle wrought, but time
Elapsed with place re-seen has tensions felt
That push and pull, will tug and twist a past
Re-visited, a heady mix of rhyme 
And jarring sadness found, through absence melt…
That smart dissolve a hard-edged longed for cast
Of how those things once were… and with a laugh…
An emptied stage that tells us where we be…
A hinted set with props that prompt our path
Into next scene, next act… and whence we came…
For now, remain as ships upon a sea;
Not yet quite sunk… actors consumed with name…
As smiling shades with die/dye whose shapes can’t last,
In fading light designs no more held fast…. (37)

My Love is Felt

By night, when busy time permits, we meet, 
Engage through wordless play how love is said…
Let touch itself in gentle strokes repeat 
Our secret vows, that our shared hearts be wed…
Verily thoughts are sped when fingers meet…
Embedded in my verse thy name in prayer
Directs my human soul to thy sweet seat…

By smallest digit smiling lips entreat,
Enrol the next to shape the nose with care,
Let longest one on eye brows smoothly greet,
Long chin have fore finger feel bearded hair,
O’re chest the thumb defines a trail complete,
Verily with treasure revealed with care…
Embedded in my verse thy name in prayer
Directs my human soul to thy sweet seat…. (38)

Loudly the Bellbirds Call

Amid the bush the sound of birds intone
The setting sun. Through dark-green filigree, 
Fine feather thin, a bluish sky is blown
A flame-fanned ruby wine in sympathy…
Above, the same motif’s reflected thrown
Between the hidden lovers in this sea
Of choral space where crystal notes are sown
And reaped afresh in echoed harmony…
Below, we two male lovers secret own 
This patch of land for all eternity…
No more, no more we live our lives alone…
Despite all semblance otherwise we be 
Like unseen birds whose call remains unknown,
Unheard… among those men who cannot see…. (39)

With Saddened Thoughts

The water falls in gentle murmurs hushed,
In fragile froth it moves across the pool
To join the ripples of the creek still cool
Despite the waning warmth of day so rushed…

In tears said my good-bye… and know all life
Is short, in fear of twisted fate suspect
Our paths may no more cross, let us elect
A life embraced with each as lord and wife…

To this sad, sacred spot let us repair 
Some future day, renew our silent vows
Before this spill whose sure, eternal powers 
Might brings us safely back again right here:

My heart aflutter still must waver not,
What time has joined in faith is nigh forgot…! (40)

His Bath

In other room now hear my lover’s bath,
The waters singing so upon a tone
Well known… imagine steam will flicker, laugh
About his form when self immersed, laid prone…

Between these sheets upon this bed in thought
Become by thinking so those waters be…
And see my fingers fine caress his taut
Held limbs now left relaxed within my sea…

But no, he calls, insists I join him there,
By hand myself he takes to waiting tub –
We scrub and soap our backs, each other’s hair,
Our arms and legs… embrace a soothing rub… 

Sacred those moments when no more alone,
More treasured than all wealth rich men might own…. (41)

(Or, 13th line?) So sacred those treasured moments no more alone…
An Angel Fell*

An angel fell, has fallen far, to earth,
Descended so, as if cut down with thud
Upon the ground, and deeply soiled in mud,
In darkness sadly finds devalued birth…
His weeping tears dissolve upon the turf
But there unbudged, unmoved by such a flood
A heated fire will course through veins of blood…
Give life to distant death, and death to worth…
A sobbing marks his words, such sorrows send
A message clear to those who have to see,
With open mouth, how burnt up dreams can end
In psychic scars and bitter misery:
But, wait, what brave held hope can still stir here,
The faintest smile has formed like dew in air…? (42)

We Rise by Efforts Fraught*

We rise by efforts fraught, and thwarted too,
But worthy webs are spun through toil and pain,
With labours won, like spark to glowing fire,
How sweet the winning war when caught is fate,
And march we must to check… and call forth “mate”…
Now camp upon this land to seek, admire
How brave the working man with mended mane,
And bandaged wings, reclaims what’s overdue…
Take heart O wounded sight, and fly past fear,
With moving bow take aim and find your goal
In life, a lifted hope is thoughtful traced
And then, anon, through careful steps embraced;
To distant line beneath the sky the soul
As if a boat is seen to float through air…! (43)

Beyond the Falling Mist

Again cold, rolling fog descends to blot
From view a sunlit landscape from before,
A world of mist will long tonight ignore
The charm of stars found fixed or briefly shot
Whilst in between nomads wont be forgot,
Those few free wandering souls that waltz from shore 
To shore about the lordly sun, restore 
A cyclic time within this vacant lot?

But have no care nor thought for further fields,
Now glad unwinding hours are spent with you,
My love, no need have I to see with eyes
When heated hands are held and passion yields 
A crop of kisses sweet, a harvest view
Embraced in warmth of bed with lengthy sighs…. (44)

These Changing Times

A world at war is ever found to hand,
All time is change and change is never meek,
From river gorge to shining snow-clad peak
A course is set, for so its seams, as planned,
And yet, surprise, itself is built on sand:
The tallest flower is undercut by weak,
While strength is sapped, snapped by more grand physique,
Or faults and flaws seduce brand-new command…

Am pleased my man be no high lord writ large,
Such folk, more folk-lore be, are undercut,
In press by words are stabbed, then smacked on butt, 
With spiteful pens their fate dispatch, discharge…
Well know your name remains unknown today
And longing wish for things to stay that way…. (45)

Beyond the Cost of Birth to Death 

Into a land of birth we find our way
Is met by all manner of folk concerned,
From crowds of kith and kin we are discerned
To be of kindred kind and from our play
To school to skilful work we learn each day
Our toil is traded for a wage well-earned,
With recognition sought and slow returned
We move as labels signed in mere display…

But, here, through love my worth is not on show
In price or fee, indeed, without a cost,
No toted sum is tagged and market tossed
And in return expect no loss forgo…

For now we two be freed through love’s pure light,
No more to count and think from blinded sight…! (46)

Blowing Hot and Cold

Upon red sands of desert parched by sun
And gusts, and ground on down by grains of dust
Fierce blown by storms, and cracked by rain in frost
Such landscape shaped by times not yet undone…
Within this shrunken space where world is one
Much change is found through hot and cold, with rust
The dirt-dry soil is washed, erodes earth’s crust,
Directs swept realm of dunes on windward run…

Tonight, beneath the stars beside the fire,
Enjoy a pleasant clime in front of tent,
Here arm and arm between a wakefulness 
And sleep, locate a joyful found consent;
Intuit here a deeper happiness
Resides betwixt extremes that burn desire…! (47)

As a Living Work of Metaphor

All things we do can have non-literal edge:
A bridge traversed; a road is walked, then crossed
By other paths; found blest… or cursed by rain;
A friendly kiss… or marked for death as signed
Through an apparent context found designed…
We turn and wriggle on through joy and pain
To find our way and then, again, get lost;
In trust might signal “yes”… undo this pledge…

We be no more than worms, fickle creatures,
Through day and night, a living joke not seen,
To some a travesty almost obscene,
Expensive trick with added on features..!

But don’t despair for love rewrites such loss,
In profit had declares a saintly gloss…! (48)

Is this a Dream?

Is this a dream… yet seem to feel what’s real
In his sweet arms, soft breath upon my chin,
And find myself part trapped, enwrapped in skin
Without complaint might add, all quite surreal..?

Is this a dream… that we be not alone,
We wake in world amid a crowded place
With scream… and to the end with breath embrace
A hope for company had in death be thrown..?

Is this a dream… that we be liked for who
We are, no more, no less, imperfect made,
Of flesh that fades and parts, by time betrayed,
And, too, with strange ideas quite mad imbued...?

How wise the soul who takes endearment found,
Enjoys his friend as if on sacred ground…! (49)

Marksmanship

With gun in hand my man is quite a shot,
A good sportsman who no more hunts than clouds
In sky can chase the moon while wrapped in shrouds
All ghostly white, a bull’s eye is his lot…

Can run a mile; and climb a cliff unclad,
Sore sharp to flesh without complaint; can chop
A block of wood like wax; a tree can lop
High ‘bove the ground, indeed, a manly lad…

With me, am glad to say, will chose a pace 
In style more slow… with book in hand, or talk
As we through bush in dripping sweat will walk, 
Indulge myself without an absent grace…

With secret smile and dancing eyes innate
Let love reflect and catch my shadowed fate…. (50)

 Appendix to Part I – 

On Ways to (Not) See the Divine?
Four Experimental Sonnets with Chorus Framed by Five Haikus

On Ways to (Not) See the Divine?
Four Experimental Sonnets with Chorus Framed by Five Haikus

(Spring)

Dense the scented air…
Animated in space through
Ten thousand petals….

Upon wild banks of Yoshino white trees
Are cherries thick with fragrant blossom clouds,
A swirling sight for gentle folk whose crowds
Have sought to deeply see what soon through breeze
Will be completely stripped… and lost… must seize
This sense sublime, vision divine whose chords
Are struck… as much that temple gong by hordes
Of  ‘ants’ amassed to see this fragile tease…

But, now, I laugh… my sight is but a screen
All painted out like all such works before,
The merest guide… to what is truly there…
Whose majesty inspires sweet poems from air…

And, so, should know what lives upon our shore
Cannot arrive, depart… be fleeting seen…!

(Chorus)

In rhythms of the year real things will know
Their rightful place, what time to see, be seen;
What need be said through silent signs to mean
No more, no less… what waits, anon, will show…

(Summer)

Nothingness is seen
Hanging in ripening fruit…
Purchased through more sweat….

A heated midday sun refreshed with rain
Leaves verdant green on rugged heights above,
Backdrops a sea of flesh, each hand in glove,
A burnished bunch of fruit to hang again…

Such promise made, a twist of time, a chain
With link that soon returns, a bit desired
Or not, upon one’s touch, that spice acquired,
Indeed through grasped intent to taste… abstain…

Beneath the trees a restful shade is found
For takes some time to climb, to walk thin tracks
That drag us up through mud, now dank with packs,
Ourselves all laden up, all weighted down…

This simple tale of life… restored and bound;
Mere burden took upon a trail profound…?!

(Chorus)

In rhymes so sweet of day our love will sow
Its fruitful seed, what time to rise, and fall;
What need be said through longing sighs that call
Across our space where soul is found to grow …

(Autumn)

Secretly we met...
Shared a long kiss on our cheek 
In the falling mist….

A twinge of dull regret that Summer’s been…
In first, few falling leaves a grieving tree
Has felt my tearful thoughts, soon echoed seen
In whispered crunch from traipsing starry sea…

But habits paint a world, personify
An agent soul all clad as if in dress,
Disrobe this strange desire, and boldly spy
That even we, when naked be, be less…

Yet find no dreary dream, one must take heart,
Without a weighty soul we now be free,
Enjoy the moment had and love thy part
Upon this empty stage – mere masks be thee…

Such deep delight is found in loss of fear…
How great the flaming reds as painted here…!

(Chorus)

In verses of the hour no things are known,
Without our holding hands no songs are sung,
Without desire no truthful bells are rung;
Give up, why wait, for all will now be shown..!

(Winter)

Snow is bedded down…
Only a full midnight moon
Wants to party on….

Stark branches interlock, and rasp through bark
Damp black against the snow, here congregate,
Try not to shiver so, in huddles wait,
A treasured sight left safe, locked up in park…

The world is watched, beheld as if a glass…
A museum case with sorting shelves of fate:
What works no more is dropped, without debate,
A falling leaf… then toppled trunk, alas…

But, no, each thoughtful sign is formed and traced
Upon a shroud of time, sown words are wrought
And etched, each letter one by one… once placed
Such shape cannot be lost… this book is sought
And seen when touched within its tidal flow
Whose surface sheen alone must come and go….

(Chorus)

To question how without an answer why, 
Through belonging my Lord can never die…!

Shadow without sound…
Flying without a footprint –
The squawking blackbird….

					…. Sydney, 24.4.10.

Commentary

	Commentaries come in various styles with a variety of objectives. In effect, though, all commentaries are meta-textual in orientation, i.e., deal with the text or set of texts they are constructed to comment upon. In this commentary I will be looking at the poetical and religious aspects of this religious poem. Moreover, I will also like to look at this text through rhetorical, metaphorical and existential lenses. Lastly, I will adopt a close yet open stance toward the text (rather than a non-close, closed stance). (0)

	Titles by the very nature are misrepresentative of their texts being meta-textual, i.e., a title used to refer to a text or set of texts and being ‘about the text’ cannot be quite the text per se even if appended to that text as ‘a part’ of that text. Hence this tension between being ‘a part’ and being ‘apart’. However, when forms of misrepresentation are pointed out, through noting ironies, accommodating various tensions, accepting deconstructive tendencies, permitting degrees of ambiguity, etc., then we gain a deeper level of meaning into the nature of the constitution of that text. We are told in the subtitle that it is four sonnets with a chorus framed by five haikus. However, correctly, to some extent, the chorus is a fifth sonnet albeit truncated between the four sections of this poem in their evocation of the seasons (being divided into three quartets and a couplet). (1)

Furthermore, on this topic of misrepresentation, in the title to this text, we are told that it is “on ways to see the Divine” and this is also contradicted with the negative “not” in brackets. This is illustrated in the first section, Spring, where the conclusion of the sonnet deconstructs the numinous nature of the cherry blossom viewing by noting that the Divine cannot be by nature fleeting, that if it lives with us, as it must to be there-for-us, it cannot be fleeting and located on some other shore. This word ‘shore’ is invocative of classical Buddhist thought where nirvana is defined as that other shore. In this poem, then, we are told, more or less, that the Divine should be seen all year round in the cherry trees and this is what this poem attempts to achieve by seeing the beauty of the same throughout the year from blossom to verdant green leaves with hanging fruit to painted autumnal shades to the bare, stark shapes of trees in the cold depths of winter. From an existential, religious point of view, enlightenment, that of which we are to be enlightened about, is there forever with us, now, in the living present! In effect, in the fleeting, but, not of the fleeting…. (2)

	Haikus are apparently informal like texts yet they do follow a number of formal rules. Here twenty-one syllables are arranged between three lines of five, seven and five in length, season is invoked, time may be suggested and with a twist in meaning being arrived at and realized through travelling through the poem. The ‘twist’ in this haiku is that the air, indeed, is dense through a cloud of petals, the same being symbolic of the ten thousand things, i.e., the entire catalogue of the world, being scattered through space yet permeated with perfume of this scent. What the “scented air” might represent is up to the reader to speculative upon and identify…. (3)

	The chorus is a quartet whose basic outline is minimally repeated in the next two quartets and marks an end to each seasonal section of text. (4)

	In the sonnet, ostensively on Spring, there is a dialectical tension between ‘seeing an actual landscape’ and seeing only a ‘virtual representation of it’ on a screen. The division between the octave and quartet embedded in the sestet marks this transition between the non-virtual and the virtual. The latter is suppose to represent what is “truly there” but the poem later suggests that there is nothing there, through emptiness. What is there, non-absolutely, or phenomenally (and hence phenomenologically for-us) is a textured surface or surfaces with depth (but with no absolute substrate/s!)! A ‘fact’ for all eternity whose mix of phenomenal richness and intensity give to it its ‘sense of reality’ for-us. A landscape on a Japanese screen is just as real as that of which it depicts, if it be a depiction… like the cherry blossoms on the banks of the Yoshino River. Unfortunately, painted blossom cannot be smelt (except in our imaginations) (and hence these ‘textured surfaces’ or ‘depths of surface’ as suggested later in this poem). By “experimental sonnets” is meant a playing around with verse structures while still adhering to iambic pentameter, fourteen lines, a formally describable rhyming scheme, twists or voltes in final meaning, etc. (5)

	The chorus alludes to how various things arise according to their season. Moreover, things are actively seen or passively being seen (although, correctly, I would argue that no absolute difference can be drawn between these two polarities ‘in seeing’?). (6)

	We now move on to the season of Summer. Subtitles are in brackets and need not be stated in declaiming this text. (7)

	This second haiku is set in Summer as symbolized by “fruit”. From nothing we get something, something that we also have to sweat for in some form or other… so we don’t get something for nothing even though it might come, effectively, from nothing. (8)

	We have a pun in “leaves”. Time is alluded to as both linear and circular. In what sense is “restored” meant? Or is being restored and bound a simultaneous, re-iterated process… intimating an existential sense of freedom in the midst of non-freedom…? (9)

	In the chorus it is suggested that soul grows in a relational space through relationships and, therefore, is not immanent to the embodiment of the mere actors concerned. That existential space and time is embedded in phenomenal space and time, and v.v., but, through emergent growth, cannot be reduced to the latter. (10)

	In the third quarter of this poem, Autumn, the haiku continues the erotic allusions with a secret kiss… but one must wonder if that kiss is real… or super-real… or just an illusion…? “Mist” evokes a sense of Autumn, a “falling mist” (rather than a summer mist). I am currently reading the Meghadutam, a Sanskrit poem by Kalidasa where a yaksa, a spirit, as a husband banished from his wife for a year, asks a cloud to send a message to his grief-stricken wife. Not the same idea… but in the same vein…. (11)

	Emotions are personified. Echoes are seen and also heard… in time the fallen leaves look like a starry sea that is crunched as we walk across it… as if we could walk on water… a melange of mixed metaphor to further illustrate this feeling of sadness “that Summer’s been”. At the same time this sadness is more melancholic rather than depressing – the autumnal leaves look as if they were painted (so should we ask by whom?)? Are we still looking at a screen – or is this bad habit of personification rearing up again? A Buddhist vision of reality is alluded to, our identity is not beneath a mask only a series of masks! In this I am suggesting a concept of surface-depth but no absolute substrate/s since identity emerges and is lost through reduction, absolutely lost through absolute reduction! In effect, identity emerges through the interaction of these masks as we relate to other things (masked and unmasked) and other persons (in their variety of masks). (12)

	The chorus states that things are never initiated purely in and through and beyond those things-themselves (as if in-themselves) as “no things are known”. Furthermore, there is a place for desire even though the same should also be suspended… “give(n) up, etc., that by doing this there is no waiting… through our entry into the eternal now! But what is revealed?!(13)

	Sleep comes to all things even, eventually, a drunken moon… we party on but only for so long…. (14)

	Deciduous trees in winter look dead! But have a stark, profoundness of beauty revealing the beauty of the cheery trees that persists all year round. Although vulnerable to storms, generally speaking, these cherry trees are now “locked up in a (national) park”. Parks are areas of preservation just like museums, however, thesse institutions can be creatures of fashion like all human endeavours. Then, nature does take its course: leaves fall and finally the trees themselves… phenomenally/phenomenologically that is the case, but, transcendentally, as a fact in the ‘book of time’, it is there for all eternity despite the glossy “surface sheen” that “alone must come and go”. Here we have an echo of the argument in the first sonnet over the non-fleeting nature of the Divine even if sometimes it is beheld in the sublime midst of the fleeting. Do we have a contradiction here? “No things are known”/”mere masks be thee”? The book is seen when it is touched – intimating an existential form of transcendental access to the factuality of facts/the reality of relationships..! Where sacred and secular overflow into each other… embrace each other… whilst still maintaining a distinctive sense of identity…? (15)

	The chorus is a bold couplet conclusion (to the fifth sonnet). Italics are used throughout the poem to suggest verses within verses, allusions, quotations either real or suggested, points of ambiguity, etc. A theology is suggested where value is realized through belonging, belonging created in a relationship, in and through and beyond the same. The expression “Lord” is symbolic – somewhere in and between the erotic to the political to the theological but a theology where the Divine is dependent upon a relationship of experiential belonging [be longing]… a state that “can never die”…! (16)

	The poem concludes with a second, bleak Winter haiku. Intimated is the existential fact that all intentionality leaves a textual trail, a trail of texts. Shadows may leave no sound, and flying birds may leave no footprints, still, in the sight and hearing of the squawking blackbird a trail of texts are emitted and received. Everything leaves a trace, indeed, a set of parallel traces… and through the interpretation of traces we intuit the world, the Divine, divinity-in-the-world… that emergent numinous residue that cannot be reduced to mere things… neither to mere shadows nor to mere footprints…! 
     (17)

	A poem, like all vessels of meaning, can never be perfectly understood. This poem is no different… ultimately the world is a mystery… a “deep delight” when all finite senses of self are shelved, put aside, disrobed… that by such positive means we see the Divine and by such negative means we also see the Divine… when “we now be free, (can) enjoy the moment had and love thy part upon this empty stage”… a stage filled and overflowing with existential value… “where soul is found to grow”! (18)

	This type of commentary is relatively close but not closed; in that I have followed the text and noted key points within it. Whilst on the other hand, leaving it relatively open; an argued commentary that is also more suggestion, a hinted series of implications reinforced through re-iteration of metaphors and rhetoric that keep heading us in the same direction… more or less, hopefully, in the spirit of this text..?

And, so, should know what lives upon our shore
Cannot arrive, depart… be fleeting seen…! (19)

							           Noël Tointon, Sydney, 3.6.10.

Part II

As Icy Facts*

On roofing tin the rain has writ no end
Whilst here one lies in bed half-warm, half-cold, 
In winter’s depths immersed in age grown old,
No more to wait on his return who penned
On brief’s last line: “remain your loving friend”…
What worth be words so empty said… untold
The thoughts that time declares, are left to hold
As icy facts whose grasp these truths extend…
From ancient pine above in wind a drift
Of drops are heaved on down to dismal drown 
My painful sighs, impress on me this rift
That grips my soul through trust now broken down…
A soft tap, tapping touches door unheard,
Replaced by knocks of faith full re-conferred…. (51)

Like Soft, Cold Snow*

Through soft, cold snow your footprints walk on through
The open gate and in the dawning light 
Now fade, must memory too drift back to night,
Slow strip away impressions made, review 
The primal mud beneath, below, construe
Those threaded signs designed to give delight
But, yet, so soon can only add to plight,
In time let gone, replaced by something new…
But, no, I cling to hope… espy the mail
In letter box, so soon, perhaps too late,
To find a brief without a stamp, unveil
This single page to find his hand ornate…
Has spilt upon the sheet one longing thought
His quest for self no more might come to naught…? (52)

Sleeping Soundly

Is that more thunder heard in rumbling loud?
But no, my lover sleeps and sometimes snores,
Where from the depths of self he grumbling roars
Until in turning round with whistling proud
Now find another note will overcrowd,
Embrace the room with newer tune, explores
A wider range of sounds till purring pours
Throughout the night… as if the ground were ploughed…

In darkened room with eyes just lightly closed
Imagine waves have crashed upon the rocks,
A spray is whispering above the reef,
A sighing wind has caught the spume composed
Of softer sounds… till wintry storm re-locks
It grip to flood the waters of the Leith…. (53)

A Simple Cup of Tea

Have made a cup of tea, in blue-toned mug,
These days with dangled bag, and to my lips
Will take this tepid drink with frequent sips
Unsweetened, weakly watered, no mere drug…
Engrossed, I read a book, take handled lug
Without much thought, indrawn am sure no drips
Will fall upon the page, cannot eclipse 
My train of mind… returned to tray quite snug…

But, then, dear friend, with cup unbidden brought
So thoughtful timed, am shocked to find that brew
Is strangely fresh, a world re-lived anew,
Am pleased to find such love has that import…
A pleasure had when shared has greater might,
Transcends a drunken world left drowned in sight…. (54)

Where Loss is Profit Had?

As night removes the day… and darkness wanes…
A weary working world itself must ask
“To save or spend?” is this a choice… this task
To chose when people know through loss one gains,
When someone’s hand has lost someone attains,
Through swapping sought, within whirlwinds of trade,
Exchanged, no more, no less, things done or made,
On balanced scales no real diff’rence remains..?
So, now, my love, please spend and no more save,
‘Tis timely done, most dutiful, ‘tis learnt,
For earth to spin all profit must be burnt’
Be shared, past on, this way we must behave,
Up stand up, be counted so in this concern:
For earth to spin all profit must return…! (55)

Waiting

Short hours before the dawn, too cold to rise,
And pleasant sleep has fled from barking sound 
Of dogs who watch the milkman on his round,
The thudding paperboy is next surprise,
Then, too, the garbage folk will improvise
A rugby tackle down along the ground 
With bins for balls and bouncing lids that bound
On backwards in an echoed, bumped reprise…
Have found each darkened morning starts this way
But don’t despair, no need this hour have we
For clattered clap of clanging clock alarm…
For breakfast thoughts of toast and tea disarm
All our inertia long time gone, decree
Its time to face and fight… a quieter day…! (56)

With Wondrous Eyes

He walks with wondrous eyes, so thoughtful seems,
And talks with words melliferous of sound,
Such simple things are said, and left unsaid, 
With gestures of the hands all complex themes
Are made to find their place quite unprepared,
Without ado, expressed through sketch profound,
With silent smile, he touches on his dreams
To rip apart pretence, to seek my bed…
How masterful he states his hopeful troth,
With softly spoken tones, endearment laid,
His hand in mine, this manly boy with oath
Has locked in love beyond my time has played;
But who am I to close an open door
To him whose house is ours to now explore…? (57)

We Pass Unseen

With you, my love, I wish to spend, not save,
Enjoy those finer hours, however short
We have to secret meet, find sheltered port,
There synchronize our watch, no more behave
So circumspect, without a glance, a slave
To all things proper held, avoid all sport
That could suggest our hearts are closely caught,
Now sing as one upon a common stave…
So silent blocks of time are careful spent
Before a blinded world, we must not blink,
Long drawn-out hours are careful wrought and bent
To make it seem we merely know by sight
That other soul we pass, nowt nod nor wink…
Although upon each brow is etched our plight…! (58)

An Earthquake Truly Had

The soil has shook beneath my speechless frame
At sight of him, so fixed by steel-blue eyes,
Had felt the land had moved the cloudless skies,
Had shifted back and forth, could well proclaim
Real grounds for fear, and shaking so, give shame
To self through longing thoughts, whose poor disguise,
Unsteady signed, in wavering, unwise,
For me, an earthquake’s been in all but name…
But, no, my friend is also stopped, has took
The same held jolt when sight in step was locked
And thrills the core of soul, to synchronize,
Discharge a pure desire, so deeply shocked
To have been seen despite the mask-like look…
Now rent and stripped away in sheer surprise…! (59)

To the Broken Hearted

As like dead branches under foot now crack
Have felt my heart has snapped, has broke in two;
My days to be endured, left stranded through
Long, lengthy nights; the dawn and dusk can track
A dismal course, slow count the hours, unpack
In quested thought, before the mind, review
That last…ing kiss, a meet to soon ensue…
No calls returned, in silence lost, knocked back…

Along this forest path must traipse in rain,
No more can stand an undone day of pain…
Then count the saddened folk myself have hurt,
Those souls who sought my loving gaze, assert
Their hopes be met in one echoed refrain…
No call returned, in silence lost, knocked back…. (60)

Timely Time

A grieving soul, if not undone through pain,
Will surely see, in time, Time solves all things…
Unwinds the hurt, perhaps forgiveness find,
Reveals how smart distractions don’t remind
The mind of sadness sore, the cursed stain
Delivered so, in forms that suff’ring brings,
Might lead us to a stoic path, resigned,
Indeed, meet luck through being non-aligned…

A grieving soul, if not undone through fate
Will surely see sheer time dissolves all things…
Obliterates the actor, patient too, 
With that same thought well-placed in heart… review
What wealth is found to hand when fortune sings…
To turn around, postpone… one deathly date…! (61)

Such Music – Play On!

Declaimed so sweetly, soulful music plays…
With gentle touch the strings are hit and plucked,
Ne’er tense nor slack, resultant notes instruct,
Inform a tune that in decay delays
The swift cessation of the dying phrase,
With great amazement find myself deduct 
The next formed row of scales and reconstruct
Distinctive mood artistic work portrays…
Entranced, forget and quite dissolve the parts
Here well adjoined, with eyes now tightly drawn,
Absorb the psychic wielding of the art;
In wonder find one world within, our hearts
Divinely linked in love, in bliss depart 
Attuned… unsoundly, wildly, madly borne…! (62)

When Sleep Has Fled My Brow 

Must I, in light, dissolve in days of dream,
And yet, at night, upon this sea disturbed, 
Of troubled waves, so deeply found perturbed,
Must find no peace, indeed, upon time’s stream
Be left to sleep no more, no rest redeem,
For he, on whom I wait, on rumpled sheets,
When absent, leaves myself awake… repeats
This fact when traced in silver, moonlit beam…
How eager happiness sets heart with beats,
Both missed and gained, a painful-pleasure greets
My humbled self, sealed lips voice no complaint,
Within his arms, at last, am left quite faint:
Well know lost sleep to be a simple thief,
In stolen blink of eyelids find relief…. (63)

Departing Wave

As if one sees last burst of rain-storm sun,
Before it sets, cool kisses day goodbye,
Your swift, departing wave with hurried sigh
Now seems to say it all, our time is done..?
But ‘tis the dawn, our day has just begun,
My bed remains still warm where you did lie,
And wonder what the signs might be, imply
Our time once shared now be untied, undone..?
Well know that fate undoes the mighty state,
That fleeting grains of desert sand grind down
A granite man rough-shaped in chiselled stone
As sure as rain will shape the mountain, hone
A path to meet its oceanic mate…
Dissolved therein, expire, no more to drown…. (64)

That Which Cannot Be Read Nor Spoke

No perfect art have we to find the mind
Reflected in the face, this gentleman
Be counted fine scoundrel whilst over here
A roguish knave could be a saint disguised..?
What craft have we to well unwind
The tale entailed to tell their inward plan,
No bells are found to toll and signal there
What wondrous wayward ways could be surmised..?
But let us put to side what thoughts might find
And let our hearts reach out and selfless fan
A loving fire whose furnace flames might sear
Our breasts with truth beyond all earthly eyes..!
Such sights to see that never can be shown,
Where words will fail to speak what’s wisely known…! (65)

A Broken Drought

Such forceful nature deep engaged, with thrust
The wave will break against the rocks in spray,
Unbalanced spin of Earth will grind each day,
Produce a rusting world worn down to dust…
Old trees now creak and groan, with branches bust…
And fallen down, in echoed sound, betray
The time gnarled trunk will crack, and bending sway…
Convey itself to ground in breezy gust…
Upon the cliffs the salty mist now drips… 
And drops… along the torso trunk of tree
Down-pouring rain will wash this corpse…and slips 
To greedy ground, ten thousand mouths will be…
Too much for fate to find as life well knows
Few feasts are found amidst long famished woes…! (66)

Silent Deconstruction

Upon my bed methinks you feign deep sleep
With civil snores, then shorter puffs of breath,
No grimaced groan nor yelps for fear of death
Is heard, so, gently lie… now softly creep
Beside your closest ear to say, quite deep
In voice, a world of praise to make you blush,
Exaggerate your form to find you flush
With manly pride you could not claim to keep…
A sliver of a smile, is quickly caught,
I think, perhaps in dream imagine same,
Or, slowly parting lid that might proclaim
A waking sleeper has returned to port..?
Find evident measure of this great man
In what is seen to need no spoken plan…! (67)

That We Meet Again?

Some time has now elapsed, dear friend, and muse
Upon our fate that though we might have met,
Held hands and kissed, no contact can we chose,
Like twigs upon a roaring stream now set
To take a different, parted, course in life;
Still, longing, wish to know if you be wed, 
Have found a happiness, untouched by strife,
Be well, or God forbid, that you be dead.?!

In shifting house and travelling interstate
And self sent overseas the thread was lost,
Unwound, that could have bound a further date,
Am forced to think of thee as but a ghost…

Find consolation’s hope that all thoughts merge
In that deep sea where all our souls converge….  (68)

Await the Moment Now

‘Tis soon the hour we meet again, once more,
And find the seconds slip so ever slow,
‘Tis hard to wait when world will onward go
At petty pace more horse, than car, of yore…

What must be done, what playful work distract
The mind from planning artful programmed night:
This date with meal and hopeful moon-lit light,
A space to talk and place to walk with tact…

The tense of time has one, long lasting taste,
It be already here… without regret,
Await the moment had, let past forget,
With future blind… the savoured now is faced…

What fortune found in something so, so small,
What luck that pain be left beyond recall….  (69)

Live Life…

Live life as if relived, relived again!
A falling stream has no desire to trace
Its course but man must muse, re-find his place
In wonder of our world, a cause for pain…

Live life as if relived, relived again!
A passing cloud in breezy flight flies past,
Moves on ahead, a form that cannot last,
Whose shadow fades, in falling rain…

Live life as if relived, relived again!
A forest fire has flames that blast the trees,
As candle wicks the scented oil will tease
The timbered town with fierce, ash-filled rain…

Filled brook revives, the clouds and smoke unmade,
But man should play his part as if re-played…! (70)

How Mirrors Lie?

With thee I see a meeting of the mind,
Feel great delight in walking with you here,
Each sentence shaped by shared words lent, endear
Our ways of thought as if shadows entwined…
Like twins the world must think we’re born and bred,
Or, puppets on a single string to dance,
So made, with echoed laughs and sighs, advance
Our troth, desire a life with ‘double bed’…

How mirrors lie for we discern no date. 
We be not lost in love, with gasping death 
And stirring life returned through heated breath,
Instead, must wait to find some other mate…
Although, when we must kiss, depart… will ache…
For touch delivers well a diff’rent take…. (71)

In the Blink of an Eye

The long, long, drawn-out hours confirm this fact
That in the blink of eye, so deeply caught,
That inner view, insight, so skillful taught,
Parades before our ken our lot exact…
No more, no less, in painful back and white,
All hopes and hopeless causes find a sketch
That as the sands of time naught shrink nor stretch
In ample flesh such fate is writ outright..!

But works of art are not by numbers drawn,
The detailed line, the filled in form, the hue
Cannot be found before its present view,
Between these cracks our luck is undergone…

And so the optimist will fight the day,
Amaze us all, turn loss to fruitful play…! (72)

Finding a Deeper Beauty in Aging Flesh

Look hard, look close and see the changing tides:
How lengthy age wears down the long-lived face,  
How breadth of time fills out our sagging sides,
How movement works a shortening of our pace…

Attend upon the speech, its fractured trace
Suggesting wear and tear as smoothness hides,
No more to sing those highest notes with grace,
Espy poor peering sight despite glass guides…

Find perfect plastic teeth, ill-fitted smile
More easily reveals a flaccid skin
With cracks and crevices, a double chin,
And whispy hair to sketch an ancient style…

Discern which wily wit’s no witless bloke
And test time-tempered wisdom wisely spoke…! (73)

In Laughter Find Our Ever-Youthful Side

In laughter find our ever-youthful side,
Untrammeled age, so young in heart, pretence
For quick second or two undone and lost, 
No more an aged soul worn down and tossed
Upon a heap of uselessness, all sense
Regained, and purpose too, in joy confide…

In laughter find a wicked world alive,
A child-like pride that sees how real things are,
With glee on tip of tongue and tears in eyes
Poke fun at priests who pose with artful lies,
Just see how truthful norms are quite bizarre,
Rejoice in jest, delight in life, revive…

With winning jape all age is quite forgot,
One happy mass submerged in melting pot…! (74)

With Blandishments Quick Won… and Long Lost

With eyesight locked, with lingered look, soon saw
Reluctant leave not quickly sought, indeed,
Would find a moonful soul in orbit plead
To stay and be my shadow mate, withdraw
No more, with earnest words heartfelt he swore
To be my friend, my hand forever need,
All signed and sealed, with kisses sweetly feed
My lips, with longing words my love implore…

…and like a fool would drink this pledge, in eyes 
Writ large, “till death do part, in wealth…”
But not in poverty… for ‘well-heeled health’,
Misplaced might add, had turned his sight with sighs…

We be but naught, if that be seen and sought,
Then tender is the hour our souls are caught…. (75)

In China Looking Back

In laughter led an echoed search for fun,
Upon the street, I know, in step we walk, 
Can guess the other’s thoughts as we would talk,
And dress in common shades beneath the sun…

How fortune finds two faces forged as one
And yet, despair, that I am here and he 
Is there, so many leagues across the sea
Whilst fate now thwarts our love that’s just begun…

How full the moon’s above this willowed lake
Whose gloomy smile reminds me now of thee
Downcast upon the ‘surf’ as green as tea…
No touch of bamboo breeze to sooth this ache…

Although, in thought, take heart my friend and I 
Can now both look on your same face… and sigh…. (76)

This ‘Thing’ Called Love?

We only see what is already known 
And only know what is already shown..!

In love with thee is ‘love’ our love to know
Or merely found my feelings had for thee
As if yourself an image made by me,
A ghost part-barely grasped, a fleeting show..?

But as you took my hand in yours held fast
And with a deep, long kiss took me inside
With silent signs and whispered sighs replied
Through touch would trace a pact, a compact cast,
Us two, contracted trip that could well last
Beyond a short-term lease in freedom tied
Whose blinding truth is best not be denied…
Still, not yet squared with fate “that things don’t last…!” (77)

Beyond a World of Flesh and Fact

This thing called love can have no lease on life
As lived within a world of flesh and fact,
Although be timely born… and worn away,
Outmoded lost, still know it be in heaven found..!
From there alights on shapes far less profound,
Informs a moving role in mortal play,
Gives lie to master-soul that deigns to act;
As empty as all clouds breath-filled with strife..!

Inspired with path to be endured, its own,
No more, no less, untouched by weighty dross,
This specter in-between so deep transcends
All shifting time and space it nobly lends
Itself to balance sheet of profit, loss:
In harvest reaps what fruit is fruitful sown…! (78)

As One within the Other and Vice Versa

Before the world we pass as friends, naught more,
But, yet, when we believe ourselves unseen 
Another world unfolds, with diff’rent sheen…
Where cool regard bestrode a theatre floor
Now, curtains drawn, a deeper script explore,
Aflame with heated passions spent, convene
A secretive conclave with a routine
Diversely played… and spoke behind this door…

Upon the street with friends we kiss goodnight,
Our lips can linger not upon our cheek
Although confess, at times, expertly peek
To inward see how love has merged our sight:

Like ‘words in letters’ penned by my sweet boy, 
And, ‘letters used in words’ full-filled with joy…! (79)

O Heartless One!

O heartless One, why think, myself in verse,
Would wish to give to you long-lasting fame,
Memorialize your soon forgotten name, 
In lists declaim your virtues so diverse,
Address yourself as if a god, rehearse
Your noble deeds of love and war, hope shame
Would overlook the fact you find no blame…
To paint a picture perfect..?  So perverse..!

How heartless here am I no more to curse
Those steel-blue eyes… and lips that seek the same,
Whose arms embraced me tight, my tongue to tame,
Who stole my will to live through words… so terse..!

Despair his kiss has struck without complaint,
The hour of death, again, has left me faint…! (80)

Treat Worldly Things as if a Passing Dream

Surrender all at darkened end of day,
A future dawn has not arrived whilst past
Is now no more to keep but for the play
Of traces kept that cannot ever last…
With greatest care should walk between extreme,
All things to hand ne’er took nor thrown away,
We treat the world as if a passing dream,
Discern its form as if a mere display…

With sleeping lover’s head upon my breast,
Now close my eyes to wish for nothing more,
With simple sigh as if in heaven blessed
Now drifting float to find that other shore:
With silent laugh and fading smile well know
Naught comes nor goes within this empty show…! (81)

The Inward Music of the Soul

The poet plays with words, through pictures paint,
In sound, a landscape of the mind unrolled;
With a finesse we find details unfold 
In narratives compressed through such restraint…
Although confined, a deeper freedom’s found
From artistry well-formed, a perfect mould 
Into whose font is poured a sense untold,
More left to thought through time to be unwound…

But, still, there’s more, within, a portrait’s made
Whose tenor has emotions for its brush,
A subtle palette that is plucked and played,
Productive of a powerful stream whose rush
Sees no window nor mirror to the soul:
Instead, resolve to fill a psychic (w)hole…! (82)

No Praises Need Be Said

No need have I to eulogize the land…
Its sweep and curves of fragrant countryside
With smell of freshly showered skin not yet dried,
With sparkling sounds of happy song to hand…
Delight in my re-viewing these contours,
Embrace the verdant cloth that clads the hills
And ornaments the glens as smiling spills 
‘Cross cloudy fields as shadows lift outdoors…
Happy the man who feels at home, content 
To find rapport, a place beneath the sun,
A safer niche where deeper sleep is done
And dreams of lovers shared are wisely spent:
This is the blissful land we wish to find,
For ‘tis inside the lovers’ realm of mind…! (83)

A Sequence of 12 Sonnets on the Theme of Recent Travels in China

1.    Such Signs of Love

Now all airports around the world combine
In queues soon flying souls, discern by rote
A sure passage, a permit to promote
A state of hopeful trust that things are fine…

A nervous peasant couple stands in line:
Himself in suit and leather jacket note;
Herself all warmly wrapped in overcoat
With woolly hood, long dated in design…

His arm assures the wife she’s safe with him
By stroking dangled cape upon her back,
Her shoulders hunched as if a second pack
To mirror make their one on other limb…

The better clothes these first-time fliers wear
Though fleece now edged and soiled with disrepair…! (84)

2.    By Gestures Thoughts Convey a Common Thread

On walking past his sight caught mine and mine
Caught his and so by this design desire 
Could no more hide since face to face a fire
From wordless thoughts would link and lock this line…
A furtive look, a nervous smile, a frown,
An open mouth with backward glance, aspire
To know what sudden fate has found, admire
How virtues lost refill an empty town…

By gestures thoughts convey a common thread
But no clear mirror be, although we see
And feel where heartfelt things could be quick lead,
A smoke was gratefully declined, our free
Exchange through speech, alas, would clear the air
Lest fatal difference claim a different bed…! (85)

3.    How Blind We Are To Think From Flaws We Be!

All things beneath our nose are no more seen,
Forgot in surging course of life, a stream
Of sheer forgetfulness that no more scream
How strange they might appear… in their cuisine…

From shredded ear of pig to stomach tripe
Of fish, from old fermented eggs to eyes
Of lamb… and cakes baked in florescent dyes 
With parsley dressed, tomatoes soft and ripe..!

That stink of cheese be overlooked… and smell
Of cabbage boiled far, far too long… or snails
In garlic drenched… or liver minced… how quails,
More bones than flesh, in salty oil excel…

From white lead faces, feet tight-bound unfree…
To corsets, high-heels and hems above the knee…! (86)

4.    An Antique Land

With tales to tell return from antique land, 
A sky oft’ lost in smog and desert dust,
Where what is old might well have been remade
A dozen times, upon that spot re-laid…

“What news?” I speak: encased in driest sand,
Culture is but a theme propelled through lust
For fame, redone a thousand times, through trade
And tax the prince mere sought… more gold and jade…

How vain this task to make one’s name e’re last 
Throughout all time… as well great sadness see
More humble past erased… replaced by vast
Cold blocks of concrete-glass conformity…

So must now ask “just what has roots, is real?”
When much of world reflect a recent deal…! (87)

5.    An Army of Street Sweepers

No sweeper of November streets will take 
A break, a seated pause, perhaps, from time 
To time, to drop and catch their breath, to climb
Once more a temple hill… or downward make
Their progress to a nestled park with rake
Or broom, retrieve each fallen leaf before,
It seems, they gather, stick like stamps in air
More dusted smog than mist of Winter’s wake…

No sounds of rustling leaves, on open grounds
No sight beheld of golden, dappled light,
No damp and musty smells of mould to camp
Beneath near naked trees… instead we tramp
On fragile earth re-swept – with shocked insight
Must hope these leaves are mulched… not burnt in mounds…! (88)

6.    In Praise of Near-Perfect Ceramic Piece

Find well-made pot or plate a picture snapped
In frozen time; how honest folk once thought
And felt… might share and shape a life long taught
To cultivate a place already mapped…

What courtly style enwalled in palace ground
Would lowly potters see and know? But, lo… 
Instilled in clay such understanding’s found…
So wonder how such craft could artful go..?

Through dance we drift and sway, and find relief, 
In ways that lift our toil through working day;
In bowing low one world is grasped, obey
We must the will of this unwritten brief….

From home-spun soil this vase has silent sprung
To raise its head and speak with common tongue…. (89)

7.    On West Lake (In Hangzhou)

On Bei Causeway slow strolling crowds will go
On foot… or push a slower bike and crawl… 
A lasting Summer stays the chill of Fall
With fragile leaves in such suspense aglow…
While friends with eagle kites will distant call
The holders of their charge to catch soft blow
Of evening breeze… perform this ritual show
On lengthy, expert strings… before they stall…

Beyond humped bridge a slice of land is cast
Between Heaven and Earth, in dying light,
Lone scholar folk forget to fish when sight
The Emperor’s dragon craft on sailing past,
In scale, more simple souls are drawn ant-like
Along the fractured bone of mended dyke…. (90)

8.    Ling Yin Si (Temple)

Through door now stumble upon four-armed hall
With central cube of shrine in gilded wood,
The sides with different face, an image shaped
To catch the trace of Buddha fields profound… 

Along first wing I traipse, between high wall,
To left and right, sit figures understood 
To be such saintly folk, in bronze, males draped
In robes with many tales to wise expound…

At end, each time must turn, again to call
On two more rows of staring folk who should,
With searching eyes, well see how naught escaped
Their deep-fixed gaze…  to twice more turn around…

A pious hope is had that, alone, good men 
Are not just met in your bliss-filled heaven…? (91)

9.    My Favourite Garden (In Suzhou)

Just past the hour of eight, a first time been,
See famous garden built behind its wall…
And here to linger on a lengthy stroll
Breathe in a past when this was house and home…

But horror find, a crazy tasteless scene 
Of tourist guides, with megaphones, that call
Their faithful flock to loudly note, extoll,
In thousand tongues, the pleasures of this dome…

At last, there is escape, walk back between
Arcaded walls to yellow stones that sprawl
Above a pond, a barricaded knoll,
To be run down by folk from noisy Rome…

Retreat to favourite garden whose small rock mound
Returns my mind to things much less profound…! (92)

10.     Dunhuang

Into a darkened cave I stand and stare…
A Buddha sits almost life-size and beams:
On either side the usual suspects glare;
Ananda, filled with youth, the older, seems
More aged than the freshness of this room,
Its pastel frescoes joyful to behold,
A dream-like place, no wealthy person’s tomb,
A temple space enriched with painted gold…
Expensive ores were mined and ground in paste
Applied with great intent, a story told
In panels, one by one, whose brilliant taste
Portends the promised end to suffered pain
Made worse through being ever oversold…
Yet peaceful smile still speaks through such refrain…!  (93)

11.    Night-Time Food-Market

On past first door to wedding hall girls stand
In row of four, with smiles to welcome guests
And fancy dress to lure menfolk inside…

At such expense, a restaurant not at hand…
Walk on to find a market lane, requests
Quick made upon the spot, most lightly fried…

Wife’s pancake mix is plonked, fresh egg to land
By husband’s help and spread with onions dressed,
Bean paste… a crispy plank on top applied…

With thin sliced meat then folded twice and chopped 
This wholesome, tasty treat could not be topped…! (94)

12.    The Emperor’s Fishing Hall

Today, train travel states in Roman case,
And friendly signs, where you might seek to go…
And found I’d passed my stop by one long hour…

Retraced mistake and waved the pictured place 
Of emperor’s fishing hall, would taxi know..?
Was shown the gate… near cheaper hotel tower…

Am met by morning mist, more smog-filled space,
Through moon-shaped arch no famous view to show
Through photograph, no scene with eyes to scour…

Before the mind this bridge could easily trace,
Five roofs with golden tiles, where waters flow
Beyond this fog… inspired by royal power…

I came… and could not see… but waited there…
While songbirds sang… till sun part cleared the air…! (95)

Am Touched by Admiration…

With subtle sight found self in circle made
By tall teenager boy… and who, before 
Too long, would sit upon same station seat…

As bird of prey, as if my bag to raid,
But no, perhaps as spider on the floor
Of web without the wit to know retreat..?

With train on time he follows me…  and stayed
In seat not far away… this time ignore 
Him not, permit my line of sight to meet…

Without one word we now both know we laid
The grounds for future smile, in good rapport…
And softly touched in passing from our seat…

Without design, I naked stood to trace,
Define those needs that brought us face to face…. (96)

That, Thankfully, Insight be Limited

Despair, yet despair not, that insight might
A faithful mirror be, cold scalpel caught
To take in high relief the measure sought
Of such a person seen within its light…

That all intent be clearly felt, present
The perfect picture of soul whose mere trace
Once clear discerned, would capture a true taste,
Define its orbit as more straight or bent…

But, then, must equal find one’s own sad face
Reflected thence and that we fail to seek,
Cannot perceive, although, first-hand, we peek,
Conflicted thoughts instill an endless chase…

O Friend take heart that empty self be blind
For fictions rule and drive deluded mind…! (97)

The Sheer Sacrifice of Self

In your sweet shape admit to find delight,
Those arms so strong, could lift substantial weight,
And yet your smile disarms all fears that fate,
In shifting gear, could force a frightful sight..!

That dreams by day or night might true inform
Myself just where we stood, where we could stand,
Yes, am so sure you like to kiss, my hand
Would hold upon the street, in faith conform…

But, then, before the mind a puzzled thought,
If bed be bound, just what could one expect,
Too much would sure deflate whilst deficit
Might not get us there though such hope be sought…

O what the heck, forget our fears, enjoy
All moments had… as if an altar boy…! (98)

That Wisdom Be Hard Won

Through painful hours some scraps of wisdom find:
Through sight, reflection had, and standing back…
Yourself was seen, our love through opened crack
Was felt… our shared insight was mutual signed…
We carved our names upon that ancient tree,
Would walk at night along that river bank,
Hold hands and secret kiss, who eat and drank
By day as if mere friends… who took fine tea… 
At times we spoke… more oft’ left half unsaid,
Or, would long bathe in silence by the sea;
To roar of waves our day just passed with joy.
But fate decreed our paths would merely cross, 
Be short time tied, much longer lived as loss…
No lover, none, not one could e’er employ
A measure marked the same… as Love should be…! (99)

Without Title (To a Sonnet)

Forgive arhythmic lines and witless rhymes…!

A license had is usually bought, no fee
Myself incurred, and yet, when words are read
Too close to page that page might falsely speak…
Alas, in philosophic thought it’s said
That only perfect poems in heavenly realms
Are spoke… and left unwrit… lest mortal men 
Appear like gods… and claim rewards through pen…
As if mere words could well a fortune catch..?!
But what say I? Perfection overwhelms,
Indeed, is oft not seen for what it be – 
A gloss, a tweak, a remedy, a patch
That turns a flaw into something divine:
A love that knows no more its simple name,
Chaotic signs that move a complex game…(.)

Best left to ticking clocks and willful chimes…!! (100)