Thirsty (Sept. 2017)

The sense of you filling me

As I hold a book,

Imagine you next to me

And me kissing you.

Oh, my poor book!

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Love’s Truth (Sept. 2017)

Oh wonderful wonder, this beauty of you!

Restorer of meaningful morning—sky blue!

Grim shadows had darked me, gone was my light,

I looked about, finding—only cold night.

I searched, searched everywhere, nought could see through,

Till a match was struck—there! A flare! It was you!

Then blending together my sparks and your rays,

With laughings in laughings and praisings in praise,

And showing and knowing and growing as one,

And rising together through darkness now done,

We strode up a mountain through fountains of youth

To find, at the top, that our minds held love’s truth.

In sky-blue clarity we see the ideal:

It’s you and me loving with love that is real.

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My World (from Sept. 2017)

You are the world, the one true world, to me,

A constant sun, a pure and steady star.

All other things mean not too much to me;

Men’s battles and their bickerings seem so far.

Yet you are over sea, long miles away,

And I can’t touch you though I want to, much.

Our Facebook chatter is my height of day,

But oh, I cannot kiss, though yearning such.

Sometimes my mind goes blank; a joke I make

To fill the void where arms and lips would be.

Angry at myself for clumsy dumb mistake,

I look to see your eyes, but can not see!

And still, you are so wise, you understand;

You are my World, and I am in your hand.

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When (from Nov. 2017)

When I come to the airport in KL

Why will I be there?

Because of you.

Why will you be there?

Because of me.

That is all we know.

It is enough.

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Entirely (from Nov. 11, 2017)

I sit in my room alone

and think of you,

And I am not alone—

not entirely.

I think of you

and I am happy,

Though not entirely.

I visualize your face,

I see you smile.

I almost hear you laugh,

And I am not alone,

not entirely.

I love you.

Yes, I love you.

Yes, entirely.

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Double Blessing

The ancient Chinese philosopher/poet Brian Hu said that love is a blessing, not from the ill-logical gods, but from one’s self, for the gods know nothing about valuing. And so, as Brian Hi went walking on this simple path, he came upon an elderly woman who was sitting in a chair in her backyard reading poetry very softly. She was reading so softly that he could not always discern speech from the light brushing of leaves in the wind.

He came up slightly to the side of her, and lo! She was reading his own poems! Tears poured down his cheeks! And then he blessed her, he blessed himself, he blessed the love he felt for her. And then, upon his knees, he spoke to her. “My dear, you read beautifully.”

She turned a little startled, and said, “Sir, what are you doing on your knees?” He replied, “You are reading my poetry , what else could l do?”

“Oh, are these yours? They are Beautiful. I love them.” He asked, “Do you believe in love?” “Oh, only for the young. I am too old for love.” To this he said, with growing intensity, “Really? You really, really, really think so?”

“Oh, yes. The years ahead of me are not so many. It is too late to find love now.” Brian Hi gently took the book out of her small brown hands and began reading. “In word and phrase and rhyme Love lives always sublime in hearts that know no time.”

“That is beautiful,” she said. “For whom did you write it?”

He looked up from the book straight into her eyes and said, “For you, just now, did I compose these lines. For when I heard you read, I was inspired.”

Tears sprang in her eyes and She said, “Yes. I believe you. Yes, I am still alive. And you are too. That us all that counts.”

“Yes,” said Brian Hu, “that is all that counts.”

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Upon The Grass (Oct. 2017)

My love, I say I need you, and that is true.

But no, I am not lost without you, no.

My mind is still my own, I’ve my own will,

And yet, when all us said and done, I need you still.

Time was I needed none, nor did I want.

I thought it right to want, but did not find

A soul to call my own, no liking mind.

Some girls were pretty, but, when they did speak

I knew they weren’t for me, they seemed so weak.

I wanted strength of spirit, self it’s own,

Someone to love, admire, respect. And yet,

Someone as beautiful and true as you

I needed, too, who wants the things I give,

And wants the giver, me, who gives to live

The poems and songs and stories that are me,

And gentleness and thoughtfulness and trust.

And so I say I need you, dear, but this

Is just another form of want, and this

Is just another form of greatest need,

That wants the you I want with all my soul,

That needs you there to want and need me, too.

Oh, there’s no way else to say that I love you!

Action must wait, hugs and kisses wait;

Everything’s on hold and must stand still.

And so I wait and save as days go by,

And wait and save, while in my mind I fly!

I fly, yes; sometimes I cry, then tell myself

I must be more mature, stronger, hard,

Till softness of your soul melts hard away,

And as we message I grow light as May.

I’m waiting, dear; I’m saving; time will pass,

Them at your feet I’ll kneel upon the grass.

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