When I was ten and you were three

I bounced and bounced you on my knee.

At eighty I will kiss you much

Because my knee has lost its touch.

Oh, what is fiction, what is fact?

It matters not, just so we act!

But if you yearn to bounce my knee

I’ll bounce you once, with kisses free!

Oh, so long we’ve been apart,

And Age says, “Go, it’s time to start.”

We can’t make up for sixty years

Unless in bliss time disappears.

So love me, dear, and I’ll love you,

And we will live our lives a-new!

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The High Sign (Nov. 11, 2017)

I’m ready for flying,

I’m ready to be,

With one I am dying—

Almost—to see!

She’ll be there awaiting

With a big white sign—

Says, “There’s no debating,

Mr. Brian, you’re mine!”

Then, “What?” I’ll say, kidding,

“This sign is for me?

Dear sign, you’re my lover,

Forever, I see.”

Then back of the sign

I hear a “boo-hoo”;

I look, see one smiling—

My leg-puller—-you!

With high spirit of your soul

You do spin my heart’s control

Till I am one hot blaze of loving fire!

You are sharp and cool and fast,

Your heart-competence will last,

And your hands held in my hands is my desire!!

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Coming (Oct. 31, 2017)

I have not held you, nor have touched your hand;

I have not seen you in the flesh of you,

Nor how you walk, not even how you stand.

I have not heard you speak, or even hum;

No hard and solid fact have I of you

To add to my imaginary sum.

I have your messages upon a screen,

A screen not even mine, of glassy sheen.

We see, react, are typing in between

High thoughts that fly unbodied through the air,

And yet, to say we’re spirits is not fair.

For you are very real and very rare.

I’ll have a poem, untyped, within my hand,

To give you when my plane comes in to land.

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Hair Up Top!

You said “Hi!” I heard.

I saw dark, bluish black hair—

Yesterday’s doo.

If l were a bird

I’d be singing everywhere,

“You are new, new, new!”

But I’m not a bird,

So l just gaze in rapt daze

And speak one word—“You.”

You smile, satisfied;

You look in glass, satisfied;

We sip coffee—good.

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Four Lips

Four lips are great gods;

When pressed firmly together

Four lips are great gods.

Two lips are good;

Not good enough.

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My Inner Sight

I am so glad, when day goes by,

That I’ve got you in my inner eye.

I see your smile; your lips do shine.

Your eyes, with flames, say you are mine.

My inner sight is so, so true,

That all it sees is all of you.

It sees no stars, it sees no sun;

Sees only you are my only one.

My inner sight, it is so right.

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Oh, I Know A Woman

Oh, I know a woman dark and bright;

Her dark eyes shine with such a light

That I am overjoyed to see them;

For then, oh then, so warm I grow,

Real loving warm—yes, it is so—

That oh, l seem to dizzify,

To almost faint away and die!

My dark, my bright! My bright, my dark!

I love her, love her, love her so!

Oh, I know a woman.

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Oh, My

Oh, my dear shopper,

Shop-shopping all day,

As if every shop

Was a banjo to play.

You walk down an aisle,

The goods do all smile—

The bottles and boxes

So glad you are there

To clink them together,

Or carry them off,

Like light, stormy weather

With a Santa Claus laugh!

Ho ho, hee hee,

They leap in your trolley!

Ha ha, hee hee!

Such fun is this shopping!

No, no, never stopping!

Till trolley is full

Of fruit beautiful!

Or with liver for Bingo,

Or fish for the men,

Until it is time

To go shopping again!

And yet, just for you,

To boil an egg so, so beautifully new!

Oh, my dear shopper,

Shop shopping all day!

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Do It Right!

Down deep in the mind and soul of Hong Kong

The light-center—Hero—is switching to On!

Oriental—not mainly; eastern—not all;

For the spirit of human surrounds this whole ball.

The spirit of freedom, free choice of free act,

With no loathsome tyrant, who goodness has lacked—-

This spirit is beauty, it gives only light;

To self—our one duty! Do! Do it right!

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Stand Like Shaq

Shaq is the nan

The man among boys.

Stands tall like a man,

Speaks truth in the void.

With Shaq our defense

We will not complain;

With Shaq the hero

We’re rising again!

Speak calm, speak true,

Stand straight, you American.

Stand—for me and you;

Shaq did it, you can!

Shaq, he is strong,

Strong for Hong Kong!

For freedom of men

Shaq’s winning again!

Alone, but one voice,

This man of light spoke

Against the foul tyranny,

The chain and the yoke.

Let us stand as he—-

Millions for Liberty!

Let us all, too, be proud—

Certain, unbowed!

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It Starts With One

One voice, it has spoken,

One young man has said,

“Me, I am living,

And I will be free.”

Voice two—hear it echo

With passion sublime,

“This earth is for living,

My thought is no crime!”

Voice three and voice four—

Man, woman, speak out,

“Truth is our leader,

Our souls have no doubt!”

Five, six and seven,

Young, older, too,

They pick up the chorus

And voice it a-new!

Men must be free!

Mind must be free!

Put down your tyranny,

Let us be free!”

And soon the whole city

For freedom does stand,

And soon the whole world

Puts “Free” in command!

And Joy strides up singing,

And Beauty stands tall,

And living, pure living,

Is master of all!

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I’ve penned you many a funny poem,

And made you laugh a bit.

But you are my true serious home,

Loved table where I sit.

I sit and see you next to me,

While beauty lights your face.

Good fortune will not let me be,

But whispers, “Here is grace.”

I know I’m blessed in loving you,

And my whole life is good.

If I must fly whole worlds for you,

I could, I should, I would!

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You, at break of day;

You, arising.

Through the dim-lit rooms you go;

You, moving.

Sun and earth and wind together,

You are my glad-changing weather.

You, climate-face of love—

Sometimes happy–rain of joy;

Sometimes sad– rain of sadness.

Stormy, calm, wild, serene,

And everything in between.

Always, ever, you.

You, at fall of night;

You, moving.

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Autumn comes, Summer goes,

Spinning up and down the drive

In old, fresh-painted clothes.

Trees fling naked gradually

As squirrels leap—surprise!

Gradually the temps decrease

To snowflakes in our eyes.

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So quietly the brown leaves fall;

More quietly your light feet fall,

As quietly behind me you do step.

You think, “He doesn’t hear,

Nor guess I am quite near.”

But yes, my dear, I do,

And wait Love’s blinds—

The closing hands of you!

And then I’ll see—my doom!

And then I’ll be—perfume!

And then your lips—will bloom

As quietly as brown leaves fall,

And quieter than your feet fell,

When you half-thought, “He cannot tell.”

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It’s When, My Dear

Oh, when, my dear, oh when, you come a-walking up the road,

Then everything that heavy was is now no more a load.

Yes, I was bound in heaviness, for you I didn’t see,

And this long way was heavier than heavy rocks that be.

But then, my dear, but then, you came a-walking sweet and fair,

And suns and stars were sparkling all round your eyes and hair!

A bit of bounce was in your arms, a-swinging side to side,

And then, my dear, oh then, was I awake with pride!

For oh, my dear, and oh, my love, you buoyed me like air,

And I was wholly bubbly light when you came by me there!

When everything that heavy was is now no more a load,

It’s when, my dear, it’s when, you come a-walking up the road.

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The light of life is in her face tonight.

Oh, hours, go slow!

There goodness shines, and all is fair and bright.

Time, don’t move! No!

Her lips declare that gold is ruby red.

I kiss them, yea! Treasure’s in bed!

Time, slow down. So!

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To Be A Wake Thing

Beijing is a slay thing,

A no face thing,

A base thing.

It needs re…place…ing

With men of justice,

Lovers of freedom,

Speakers of truth—

To be a wake thing,

Bright light breaking,

A human song

Soaring, soaring, soaring,

Like Hong Kong!

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Off To Choreland

Easy resting with a smile,

Every chore you can beguile—

To be a little easier,

And such good thing to do,

That all the chores will clap their hands

And say, “Dear Nancy understands

The reason we are here,

And that’s to make,

For goodness sake,

Ourselves to disappear!”

Then ha ha ha

And ho ho ho,

It’s off to choreland they do go!

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Our Balcony

My Juliette and me,

We have our balcony,

And I walk by and wave

To she who is so brave

In waving with a smile

That is her happy style.

This Juliette and I,

This fancy of my eye,

We’re glad as glad can be

To have our balcony!

Sometimes old Chan is there,

And I must “exercise”

And walk like I don’t care

For Juliette’s dark eyes.

But she, she waves a hand,

And I, I spin about,

Till mixed up is old Chan—

His brains are inside out!

Then I do go on straight,

Juliette does do a chore,

And we act like we do not see

Each other anymore!

Oh, strange is love sometimes,

When fools get in the way.

But Romeo has strong rhymes

To make true loving stay!

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My Nandal

My Nandal’s hair is soft, I swear,

And light as light, my Nandal’s hair.

Against her ear I kiss it oft,

Where there it waits my breath, not rough.

My Nandal’s eyes are brown-gold-brown,

Straight, or sideways, upside down!

And oh, the cheeks of Nandal—-brave!

So quick are they my kiss to save!

Or left, or right, they dimply claim

That I’m the stake of their love’s fame!

Not least of all, my Nandal’s nose—

It roses mine as we inclose,

And light as light, my Nandal’s hair,

So soft, so soft, so soft, I swear.

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No Rush

I am your lover, yet many days go by and we don’t even touch, nor breathe each others breath. And yet again, across them all, as through a moving wall we glance and see the one most precious of any face that’s there, the one true day-flower gliding in its own power.

Tomorrow, meetings are done, speeches are over. A lot of laughing goodbyes, then out and gone. And then, we’ll be alone, the whole stage ours. Oh, what will be your lines? What, indeed, mine? We’ll have our heads together; our lips will touch, and to no audience we’ll say, “No rush.”

Then you, perhaps, in fullest joy will cry, “I am your lover, let no seconds by!”

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Stand, Hong Kong

Stand, Hong Kong,

Stand you strong.

You are right,

Not in wrong!

Never cow,

Never bow;

All the good is

In you now!

Freedom’s soul

Yours to sing;

Free-born life–

And you, its wing!

Dark threat of force

Is vile behave.

Who uses has no

Face to save.

But you are good,

Truth is yours.

Already sun and

Sky is yours!

Already all the

World can see

You are height of

Being free!

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I Am

Rise for America,

Rise, and then go—

Into the battle

To beat the foe!

They are the communists,

No-man-souled, worse,

Hating free life

In the whole universe!

Individuals hating,

Star-enhancing of mind;

Creators and thinkers—

They’d ban us and blind.

Lovers of noth-noth,

Of ugliness, too,

They look for the one thing

To nothing-out you.

You, the self-truster,

You, the must, real,

Who, in self-luster

Flash-fills your ideal.

Ah! They can’t stand it!—

A self that is whole!

To drown, down command it,

They’d kill it–your soul.

But you are America,

Great man of this earth.

In you is its firstness,

True glory of worth!

For “I” be you fighting—

Each woman, each man,

Your ego-light lighting

The sky with—-I am!

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Sweet Stuff!

In three day’s time

I’ll fly away,

But l will come back soon!

I’m only half a melody

Till you complete the tune!

Glad I’ll be to find new books

And give to them my loving looks.

But in three days I’ll have enough,

And ready be for your—

Sweet stuff!

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