The Age of Reason

11th Oct 201811th Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: 798 Art Zone: Beijing, China.

Now, for all that is the
curtain of my soul.
It is hard to remember those
bright days of early love.
And a picture of you and me
in strange surroundings, is all
that is left of days restored.

My share at least, the beauty
of desire and a loss stolen away.
Distant children, a house that is no more
and a world turned loose from
dense dreams past.

A concept of love,
a plaster fix of selfish cries.
Was a least a reason for sinking in
the sand and losing it.

Too many indulgent days,
self-aware, yet unable to care
and blinded by coal-burning
tears.

Now, in silence my wounds I feel.
From those times, so fondly
cherished.

Disco in China.

8th Oct 20188th Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My copy.

Quite, alone
trying to write a poem.

And Disco comes on
in the cafe.

Yes…disco!

Donner Summer I think
“Love To Love You Baby”.
My mother liked this.

A sunny cloud,
drifting swiftly by.
Tantalizingly floating
from 1975.

It was up there, the
sky still high,
and a richness in the land.
I hear the song
so clearly now.

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.

To Walk By Oneself

4th Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

WeChat Image_20181004105726

Early morning, I could not sleep.
A single moonbeam shot
through my window.
I listened to a podcast from the BBC,
about a 94 year old woman
living alone on Vancouver Island.

It was partly a choice, partly a
conspiracy of events that
brought no friends to her.

Now she is frail, with the seals and
wind flags as her only friends.

She talked about the pangs of the past,
the colours of the coast and thoughts of nothing.
And watching the belted kingfishers
solitary flights.

As I listened, I thought about my own loneliness.
Here, living in China.
And why there is no one here
to remember with me.

There was a sadness in her voice,
not caused by being lonely.
But by a sadness that is ordinary.
The smiles, the anger, the misunderstandings,
the feel and emotion of a single event.

And a sense of injustice and punishment
from the sky.

At the end I came to the conclusion
that my life has flickered indignantly.

And yet, the moments of languished loneliness
have often turned into a terrifying tenderness.
A human heart of hidden treasures, that
seeks a life and a world to come.

Why Do I Write Poetry?

2nd Oct 20182nd Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / 2 Comments

My Picture: Two friends: Xiahe: Gannan Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, Gansu province, China

Writing poetry is not easy, at least not for me. It takes time, space, ideas, thoughts and usually something to happen to spur me to write. When some people ask me, and not too many do ‘why do I write poetry?’ my answer is usually consistent. I write poetry because I want to live forever.

Let me clarify what I mean by this.

My life has been eventful and has taken some unexpected turns. Five years ago for example, I was living, working and still playing rugby in the UK. Then my personal circumstances changed and now I live and work, but with no rugby in China. So how do I make sense of this and all the other events and moments in my life?

Well, one way is to write poetry.

A poem allows me to flush from the deep thickets of someplace within me the thoughts, feelings, questions and music, I knew was there and in the world, but didn’t know how to represent this?

More and more I think that my life and eventual death are a momentary flicker that will pass me by (if I let it) without me knowing the experience. I have three children, friends in different parts of the world and I want them to know what I am doing, what I see, what I learn and poetry helps characterize these experiences, opportunities and moments.

My Picture: Wilmslow Rugby Union Football Club

Whether my poetry is good or not does not concern me too much. I was once part of a writing forum, in which many people seemed more concerned with how many ‘likes’ or ‘followers’ they had, than the honesty and integrity of their writing. This was one of the reasons why I set up this blog.

So why do I write poetry?

Well, as I told a Chinese friend of mine yesterday, to rescue some portion of what has ‘fueled’ me in life, what continues to tell me that I am alive and to leave something of myself behind when I die. Others can then decide if they make something of this or not.

This for me is the nearest thing to being alive.

A State of Mind

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

Picture: China Daily

I met a man today with Parkinson’s disease,
his hands permanently clenched shut.
The power, once contagious at birth
no longer accepts the next morsel.

His wife, seemed spat from reshuffled pain,
and leading him into a known future.

I watched them closely.
They once dreamed of sweet genesis,
a life grown of man’s new strength.

They danced on the same floor,
touched in slow succession
on damp common ground.

Now, she takes him to the toilet and
wipes him clean again and again.

“Is it dirty
does it look dirty”
She asked

I held his hand.
And sitting softly, in my soul
I told him that his
life has not yet been cancelled.

Note

Statistics show that almost half of the ten million people affected by Parkinson’s Disease, or PD, worldwide are in China. The disease has become the third most deadly disease for elderly people in China. About 1.7% of the country’s population above 65 suffers from PD and nearly 100 thousand new cases emerge each year. The World Health Organization estimates China will see six million PD patients by 2030.

How to Characterize Pain and Suffering

30th Sep 20181st Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / 2 Comments

My Picture: War Museum” Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Pain and suffering is all around us and how ‘we’ as human beings address and characterize this aspect of the human condition is important now and for the future.

I teach medical English to medical students in China and one of the classes I teach is medical humanities. I would define this as ‘creating a sense of space for pain, suffering death and dying’. Of course this is a great challenge for me and my students. I use poetry as part of these conversations.

Now, for all that is the curtain of my soul. It is hard to remember those bright days of early love. And a picture of you and me in strange surroundings, is all that is left of days restored.

My share at least, the beauty of desire and a loss stolen away. Distant children, a house that is no more and a world turned loose from dense dreams past.

A concept of love, a plaster fix of selfish cries. Was a least a reason for sinking in the sand and losing it.

Too many indulgent days, self-aware, yet unable to care and blinded by coal-burning tears.

Now, in silence my wounds I feel. From those times, so fondly cherished.

Quite, alone trying to write a poem.

And Disco comes on in the cafe.

Yes…disco!

Donner Summer I think “Love To Love You Baby”. My mother liked this.

A sunny cloud, drifting swiftly by. Tantalizingly floating from 1975.

It was up there, the sky still high, and a richness in the land. I hear the song so clearly now.

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.

Early morning, I could not sleep. A single moonbeam shot through my window. I listened to a podcast from the BBC, about a 94 year old woman living alone on Vancouver Island.

It was partly a choice, partly a conspiracy of events that brought no friends to her.

Now she is frail, with the seals and wind flags as her only friends.

She talked about the pangs of the past, the colours of the coast and thoughts of nothing. And watching the belted kingfishers solitary flights.

As I listened, I thought about my own loneliness. Here, living in China. And why there is no one here to remember with me.

There was a sadness in her voice, not caused by being lonely. But by a sadness that is ordinary. The smiles, the anger, the misunderstandings, the feel and emotion of a single event.

And a sense of injustice and punishment from the sky.

At the end I came to the conclusion that my life has flickered indignantly.

And yet, the moments of languished loneliness have often turned into a terrifying tenderness. A human heart of hidden treasures, that seeks a life and a world to come.