A Place of Solitude

6th Oct 20187th Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

It’s been fifty five years since this car dropped off Thích Quảng Đức in downtown Saigon, and now it’s sitting right along the Perfume River at the Thien Mu pagoda in Hue ( second picture, I took)

I took a boat trip to Thien Mu
in the ward of Hương Long in Huế,
to see a celestial lady.

The boat was run by a mother
and daughter, who offered me tea
and smiles that wanted us all.

Inside it was quite,
just the engine of the boat,
wet and gutted.
Another failed lung,
a small sound that was all sounds.

Always pleading with the perfumed
river and smiling seductively, the
daughter tried to sell me things.
T-shirts, postcards of old Vietnam
and oversized conical hats.

So I bought a t-shirt
with ‘Hue’ on the front.
Even though I knew it was too small,
it seemed the right thing to do.

There was no imitation of life,
just three people in a moment.
Awake to the filtered sunshine,
that occupies most of our days.

A Short Walk

5th Oct 20185th Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: Taken Yesterday.

The feelings I get
when walking along
Da Dao Road
(Always for a purpose, usually
coffee and a place to write),
are the same as others
might have for more
important things.

Like meeting their girlfriend
or boyfriend.
Or just to be seen,
away from the barest of rooms.

I become quite inside,
as the beautiful Chinese girls
pass me by, always with a
smile, neither fanatic
nor mystic.

To note the beauty of the day,
is easy is this place.
A wide human spirit tinged
with the romance of it.

Just to feel better is good,
without needing a reason.
And by degrees
I continue my walk.

Vietnam Blues

3rd Oct 20183rd Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

Cafe Cong” Hanoi, Vietnam

My Pictures: Cong Coffee Cafe: Hanoi, Vietnam.

I searched for Ho Chi Minh
in Vietnam, four line quatrains
and the substance of a country.

I wondered why, there
are no rhythms of screaming
souls or nightmare firestorms.
Or mothers who still shed one
lonely tear of the night.

My heart was heavy
when I saw the pictures of Mỹ Lai.
The kindness answered
with foul wrong from gloomy
and angry men.

I walked the streets of Hanoi,
Da Nang and Ho Chi Minh City.
And saw the beauty of human
love and struggle, pass the
threshold of moral grief.

I learnt of people
leaving behind nights of
terror, and leaping
wide over black oceans.

They brought gifts
from Nhat Hanh, Dang Thuy Tram
and Hồ Xuân Hương.

A gentle light that strays
and vanishes, but always returns.
And a wind that blows
a forgiving silence.

The Pain of Lost Love

2nd Oct 20182nd Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

A Wandering Poet

As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.

Love Poems

A Place of Solitude

It’s been fifty five years since this car dropped off Thích Quảng Đức in downtown Saigon, and now it’s sitting right along the Perfume River at the Thien Mu pagoda in Hue ( second picture, I took)

I took a boat trip to Thien Mu
in the ward of Hương Long in Huế,
to see a celestial lady.

The boat was run by a mother
and daughter, who offered me tea
and smiles that wanted us all.

Inside it was quite,
just the engine of the boat,
wet and gutted.
Another failed lung,
a small sound that was all sounds.

Always pleading with the perfumed
river and smiling seductively, the
daughter tried to sell me things.
T-shirts, postcards of old Vietnam
and oversized conical hats.

So I bought a t-shirt
with ‘Hue’ on the front.
Even though I knew it was too small,
it seemed the right thing to do.

There was no imitation of life,
just three people in a moment.
Awake to the filtered sunshine,
that occupies most of our days.

A Short Walk

The feelings I get
when walking along
Da Dao Road
(Always for a purpose, usually
coffee and a place to write),
are the same as others
might have for more
important things.

Like meeting their girlfriend
or boyfriend.
Or just to be seen,
away from the barest of rooms.

I become quite inside,
as the beautiful Chinese girls
pass me by, always with a
smile, neither fanatic
nor mystic.

To note the beauty of the day,
is easy is this place.
A wide human spirit tinged
with the romance of it.

Just to feel better is good,
without needing a reason.
And by degrees
I continue my walk.

Vietnam Blues

I searched for Ho Chi Minh
in Vietnam, four line quatrains
and the substance of a country.

I wondered why, there
are no rhythms of screaming
souls or nightmare firestorms.
Or mothers who still shed one
lonely tear of the night.

My heart was heavy
when I saw the pictures of Mỹ Lai.
The kindness answered
with foul wrong from gloomy
and angry men.

I walked the streets of Hanoi,
Da Nang and Ho Chi Minh City.
And saw the beauty of human
love and struggle, pass the
threshold of moral grief.

I learnt of people
leaving behind nights of
terror, and leaping
wide over black oceans.

They brought gifts
from Nhat Hanh, Dang Thuy Tram
and Hồ Xuân Hương.

A gentle light that strays
and vanishes, but always returns.
And a wind that blows
a forgiving silence.

The Pain of Lost Love

In a dark human forest
I swore
I would never
love or believe
again.

Anger, drink
and mistrust
was my daily life.
A new friend.

You ask me why I find
it hard to trust, to love
even after all these years.

Easy to forgive
and forget, right!

Because, I am haunted
more by her memories
than new Chinese dreams.

I am the distant drums
of a distant love lost.

It’s been fifty five years since this car dropped off Thích Quảng Đức in downtown Saigon, and now it’s sitting right along the Perfume River at the Thien Mu pagoda in Hue ( second picture, I took)

I took a boat trip to Thien Mu in the ward of Hương Long in Huế, to see a celestial lady.

The boat was run by a mother and daughter, who offered me tea and smiles that wanted us all.

Inside it was quite, just the engine of the boat, wet and gutted. Another failed lung, a small sound that was all sounds.

Always pleading with the perfumed river and smiling seductively, the daughter tried to sell me things. T-shirts, postcards of old Vietnam and oversized conical hats.

So I bought a t-shirt with ‘Hue’ on the front. Even though I knew it was too small, it seemed the right thing to do.

There was no imitation of life, just three people in a moment. Awake to the filtered sunshine, that occupies most of our days.

The feelings I get when walking along Da Dao Road (Always for a purpose, usually coffee and a place to write), are the same as others might have for more important things.

Like meeting their girlfriend or boyfriend. Or just to be seen, away from the barest of rooms.

I become quite inside, as the beautiful Chinese girls pass me by, always with a smile, neither fanatic nor mystic.

To note the beauty of the day, is easy is this place. A wide human spirit tinged with the romance of it.

Just to feel better is good, without needing a reason. And by degrees I continue my walk.

I searched for Ho Chi Minh in Vietnam, four line quatrains and the substance of a country.

I wondered why, there are no rhythms of screaming souls or nightmare firestorms. Or mothers who still shed one lonely tear of the night.

My heart was heavy when I saw the pictures of Mỹ Lai. The kindness answered with foul wrong from gloomy and angry men.

I walked the streets of Hanoi, Da Nang and Ho Chi Minh City. And saw the beauty of human love and struggle, pass the threshold of moral grief.

I learnt of people leaving behind nights of terror, and leaping wide over black oceans.

They brought gifts from Nhat Hanh, Dang Thuy Tram and Hồ Xuân Hương.

A gentle light that strays and vanishes, but always returns. And a wind that blows a forgiving silence.

In a dark human forest I swore I would never love or believe again.

Anger, drink and mistrust was my daily life. A new friend.

You ask me why I find it hard to trust, to love even after all these years.

Easy to forgive and forget, right!

Because, I am haunted more by her memories than new Chinese dreams.

I am the distant drums of a distant love lost.

I took a boat trip to Thien Mu
in the ward of Hương Long in Huế,
to see a celestial lady.

The boat was run by a mother
and daughter, who offered me tea
and smiles that wanted us all.

Inside it was quite,
just the engine of the boat,
wet and gutted.
Another failed lung,
a small sound that was all sounds.

Always pleading with the perfumed
river and smiling seductively, the
daughter tried to sell me things.
T-shirts, postcards of old Vietnam
and oversized conical hats.

So I bought a t-shirt
with ‘Hue’ on the front.
Even though I knew it was too small,
it seemed the right thing to do.

There was no imitation of life,
just three people in a moment.
Awake to the filtered sunshine,
that occupies most of our days.

The feelings I get
when walking along
Da Dao Road
(Always for a purpose, usually
coffee and a place to write),
are the same as others
might have for more
important things.

Like meeting their girlfriend
or boyfriend.
Or just to be seen,
away from the barest of rooms.

I become quite inside,
as the beautiful Chinese girls
pass me by, always with a
smile, neither fanatic
nor mystic.

To note the beauty of the day,
is easy is this place.
A wide human spirit tinged
with the romance of it.

Just to feel better is good,
without needing a reason.
And by degrees
I continue my walk.

I searched for Ho Chi Minh
in Vietnam, four line quatrains
and the substance of a country.

I wondered why, there
are no rhythms of screaming
souls or nightmare firestorms.
Or mothers who still shed one
lonely tear of the night.

My heart was heavy
when I saw the pictures of Mỹ Lai.
The kindness answered
with foul wrong from gloomy
and angry men.

I walked the streets of Hanoi,
Da Nang and Ho Chi Minh City.
And saw the beauty of human
love and struggle, pass the
threshold of moral grief.

I learnt of people
leaving behind nights of
terror, and leaping
wide over black oceans.

They brought gifts
from Nhat Hanh, Dang Thuy Tram
and Hồ Xuân Hương.

A gentle light that strays
and vanishes, but always returns.
And a wind that blows
a forgiving silence.

In a dark human forest
I swore
I would never
love or believe
again.

Anger, drink
and mistrust
was my daily life.
A new friend.

You ask me why I find
it hard to trust, to love
even after all these years.

Easy to forgive
and forget, right!

Because, I am haunted
more by her memories
than new Chinese dreams.

I am the distant drums
of a distant love lost.