The Scribbles of a Lonely Traveller

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YOu've been so kind to my lousy poetry.

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... I find your poetry refreshing in its honesty. You paint words with a brush of life and light that I rarely see and find endearing. For instance this last offering, in your inimitable minimalistic style, tells the story of high hopes and expectations, and subsequent disappointment of perceived failure at attaining your high goals in a world full of vanity; scarred yet hopeful in reunion with your love in a most humble way. Keep writing in the knowledge that your poetry is greatly appreciated.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

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Originally Posted by tailor STATELY

... I find your poetry refreshing in its honesty. You paint words with a brush of life and light that I rarely see and find endearing. For instance this last offering, in your inimitable minimalistic style, tells the story of high hopes and expectations, and subsequent disappointment of perceived failure at attaining your high goals in a world full of vanity; scarred yet hopeful in reunion with your love in a most humble way. Keep writing in the knowledge that your poetry is greatly appreciated.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

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Thanks, Tailor, again for your fabulous feedback which is a great writing in itself, so I keep reading it again and again to learn how to use advanced English.

delete

I can hear the rain outside,
from noon till night,
pattering down on my canopy,
and the air is getting colder around me.
I remember
I used to loathe those frigid wet winter days,
but now they don't seem to bother me at all.
Is it because Christmas is near
or because my vegetable garden
needs rainwater badly?
I don't know, and I couldn't care less.
All I care is whether
you're still happy and smiling
even when
the sun won't rise or shine tomorrow.

What a lovely poem!

Love this one!

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Originally Posted by Buh4Bee

What a lovely poem!

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Thanks, Buh4Bee, for dropping in and leaving most uplifting words.

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Originally Posted by tonywalt

Love this one!

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Thanks, Tonywalt, for your kind feedback which gives me reasons to pen more.

In the wake of a cold air mass
along with a spell of winter rain,
a fine yet cloudy day finally follows
on this subtropical Formosa.
Thus,
accompanied by a chilly breeze
I jubilantly go for a ramble around the park.
In all honesty,
I'm old as the frigid season itself,
yet I experience a feeling of great beatitude
not because the trees still remain green
in the Christmas holidays
but because I'm firmly convinced that
like a tender blade of grass,
I'll be refreshing
and rejuvenescent in next life.

細雨紛飛屋上瓦，
萬里馳騁半步難，
閉目養神元氣增，
半卷書開知識增


Light rain keeps drizzling, flying
and dancing on the roof tiles.
Thus, it's daunting
to step outside for just half a foot,
let alone
to gallop like a wild horse
in the field for thousands of miles.
So the next best thing
is to close my eyes
and meditate for a while.
Later,
I might just as well half-open a scroll
to enhance my knowledge.

A friend of mine wrote the Chinese poem in the above and I translated it for him into the English version.

In between biting cold winds,
I barely survive the icy night.
Luckily,
I have cotton quilts to warm my body
along with my soul.
When I wake up to the fact
that this picturesque earth
we temporarily call home
is nothing more than a capricious world,
my life has been fleeting away
like a dream.

Last year,
I know,
I was a silkworm~
to protect myself from predators
and frigid temperatures,
I spun a cocoon
and trapped myself in the tapering prison.
Though I felt safe and cozy inside,
I didn't have the slightest idea of the truth
about the world outside.
This year,
I've made up my mind
to become a summer breeze,
to squeeze through the cell bars,
to warm up whomever I run across,
and to bring a smile
to their frozen faces
during the severe inclement weather.

On this freezing cold morning,
it suddenly stopped raining for a while,
and I gave you my promise
to go plucking some vegetables in the garden.
To my great delight,
the marigolds were in full bloom,
and they were so dazzling
that I was enamored and picked countless home.
Sorry, no green foods for the abdomen,
but the fragrant flowers are certain
to put a smile on your lips for days to come.

Love this exquisite pieces!

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Originally Posted by tonywalt

Love this exquisite pieces!

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Thanks, Tonywalt, for reading and your exquisite feedback. I really love it.

When I came across Humpty Dumpty,
the one who sat on the wall
and had a great fall,
I was twenty,
and couldn't but wonder what moral
it tried hard to convey to me.
Now all the king's horses and all the king's men
can't put me together again
since I've had many a great fall on the journey.
Life is so cruel
that I've learned my lesson well.
That said,
if there weren't cracks in a tea egg,
how could it be fragrant and flavorful?

It's been an eon
since I last came across you
in my old hometown.
You were most fragrant
from spring to summer.
How I admired you
as a youngster!
It's the season of hibernation again,
and I'm thinking of you.
Thinking~
Perchance,
there'll be a strong cold air mass
or a star war tomorrow,
yet you still keep calm and elegance
in a remote countryside.

Early tomorrow morning,
I'm more willing
to get up even before the sunshine
in this coldest season
when mosquitoes don't fly.
You may ask why?
Because I will scamper to a badminton hall,
and swing my racket like a maul.
I'm so thrilled now
that I can't hit the straw.
After the sweaty exercise
comes the rejuvenating hot shower,
but the best is yet to come.
An all-you-can-eat buffet
is the highlight of the following day
and the joy of my life.
You may well blame me
for this mundane life,
but who's wise enough to reach nirvana?

Don't you ever feel sorrow.
In spite of the fact that
you're a yellow flower of yesterday,
I'll treasure you today and tomorrow
as you're still a bud in May.

Enjoying your poems. :)

I like the phrase yellow flower of yesterday you allude to in this poem (and other poems in the past).

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

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Originally Posted by tailor STATELY

Enjoying your poems. :)

I like the phrase yellow flower of yesterday you allude to in this poem (and other poems in the past).

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

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Thanks, Tailor, for your kind comment again. Flower of yesterday is actually our way of expressing a girl having passed her prime because I like it so much that I translate it into English literally.

Supposing to be immortal
is to live like the living dead endlessly,
and eventually turn into a faded rose petal,
or a withered weeping willow.
Supposing it's frightful to think of tomorrow,
and life is not so much blissful as sorry,
I'd choose to be a morning glory,
smiling gorgeously in the morning
and floating handsomely away in the evening.

On this chilly morning,
again I stepped on the walking path
to the badminton hall on a certain campus.
While wondering why
I didn't feel especially cold,
I became aware of those pine trees
that lined the path
and kept the cold winds away from me.
Then I recalled~
as a boy,
I, more than once, felt pity for them
because I could roam about and see the world
whereas they couldn't.
In a blink of an eye,
decades of years has flown away.
While wondering why
I have to go down this path every day,
I begin to envy them
because they needn't be on the move all the time
to earn a living or to stay healthy.

Is it for real
that you moved to a garden named ideal?
I had meant to present you with
a bunch of yellow roses,
but I didn't have chances.
Fortunately,
it doesn't really matter
because those flowers are meaningless,
compared with your grace and beauty.
Without rhyme or reason,
the rain simply keeps falling tonight
during this dry season,
and it's freezing cold in the middle of the night.
However,
what exactly saddens me
is not the wintry weather
but you that disappeared without a trace.

Treading alone on the way home,
around noontime,
on the walking path
lined with evergreen pines,
all of a sudden,
I woke up to the warm sunshine
that was spreading brightly
over the grass, the trees and my body.
It came to mind that
if you ask me
which I need most in life,
the winter sunshine or you?
Without a doubt,
my answer is of course not the former.
Albeit it can light my way home,
yet without you,
a home is nothing but a house.

Casually catching a glimpse of a swan
flying high and gracefully
with those carefree white clouds
in the blue nostalgic sky,
how I, like an ugly humble toad
on a well trodden road,
wish to be a celestial being
in the likely afterlife!
Suppose
a toad is never tired of earning a living
by snatching
and feeding on mosquitoes
in gloomy miserable ghettos,
why would I complain
about the suffering of a human being
when getting senile and ill?

Supposing to be a celestial being
is to give up numerous things of beauty
in this mundane world,
I think
I'm able to withstand the temptation
of heavenly sweet nectar,
to resist the attractive and seductive looks
of an exuberant peach,
or to stand fast against the allure
of whether Helen or Siren.
But if it means to see you no longer
either in this life or in next life,
I'm willing to be forever a human being.

You my friend are a trooper. And a poet. I have a lot of respect for you.

You have amazing and prolific art. 6 years, relentless. Deep Bow,

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Originally Posted by Jerrybaldy

You my friend are a trooper. And a poet. I have a lot of respect for you.

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Thanks, Jerrybaldy, for your kind words and the feedback. Compared with your sublime and advanced writing, mine is like a schoolboy's doing homework.

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Originally Posted by tonywalt

You have amazing and prolific art. 6 years, relentless. Deep Bow,

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Thanks, Tony, for your often encouragement. Well actually, writing English poetry is my way of practicing English. Otherwise, I have really few chances of using English.

When uncle Sun was still sleepy eyed,
I was treading a walking path
to the badminton hall on a certain campus.
To my amazement,
there were already some ducks swimming deftly
and smoothly in a freezing winter pond.
At first glance,
they were as graceful and happy
as they had been in summertime,
and I really admired them
because I guessed
they were the luckiest ones on earth.
Nonetheless,
the moment when I noticed
they kept putting their heads under the icy water
to catch fish or some minnows,
I thought otherwise.
Thanks to those feathered creatures,
I think
I'm now able to appreciate what little I have
and don't envy what others have.
I may be as poor as a church mouse,
but at least
I'm as free as a breeze.

You say
how silly I am
never to decline the striking colors
and inviting aroma of roses
though having been pricked by their thorns
time after time!
But I guess,
it's you, as a matter of fact,
that are absolutely miserable,
and I really take pity on you.
To my surprise,
there has been lot of bitterness
lying hidden in the depths of your mind
simply because
you were once barked at
by some mean dogs.
From then on,
you never thought there might be
sweet memories that were worth remembering
in this quite pleasant universe.

When the smiling sun was sprinkling
warmth and grace on the field this morning,
everything was turning so pleasant and lush green.
That really came as a surprise;
Notwithstanding,
I had no expectations for the coming
of the most delightful season so soon
because, only yesterday, it was still shivering cold.
On a different note,
whether there's a captivating daffodil
or an unrestrained tempest waiting for me
on the journey ahead,
does it, in fact, make much difference anyway?
Don't I have to keep my composure as usual,
living every day peacefully,
and sleeping every night soundly?

Little flower in the alley,
I'm sorry,
but I have to bid you adieu.
It's not that
I can't appreciate you
but that
the small corner occasionally
makes me blue.

Supposing spring is a poem,
a most mesmerizing poem,
then I won't bother
about the tedious anatomy of beauty.
All I need to do is relax
and savor the most fragrant season
while lying in the green grass
and bathed in the gracious sunshine.

Perhaps,
it's the lush green valley
that's lying serenely in idyllic sunshine.
Perhaps,
it's the vibrant colored butterfly
that's caught in an unexpected shower of petals.
Perhaps,
it's the leaves of an evergreen tree
that's swaying gently in an enjoyable breeze.
Perhaps,
your spring landscape
is made up of these wonders of beautiful nature.
Nevertheless,
you'll never know~
without seeing you in the picture,
the winter snow inside me will never thaw.

After a rich meal,
if you ask me how I feel,
my eyelids are leaden
with sheep and pain,
and my body heavy
as an overloaded airplane.
Now that my muse has left me
and vanished in a puff of smoke,
is it not a silly joke
that I still hope I can pen poetry
and wish it would be ethereal
as a fantastic fairy?

I can't remember
exactly when
I no longer
aspired to set off for cloud nine.
You might mistakenly
consider that I don't relish the feeling
of sitting on a gold mine,
but the plain truth is
that I'm more afraid of falling,
sooner than later,
down from the heaven,
so high and sublime.

Not born with a silver spoon
in my mouth,
I dare not
compare my humble life
with that of prince Charming.
If I do,
I will be choked with rage.
Nevertheless,
I feel more at ease
to be a dandelion or a weed,
living in the middle of nowhere.
Though neglected,
once in a while,
I feel blissfully gratified
by a dewdrop, grace from above.

You say,
you dreamed of a lion and Armstrong
yesterday and today.
My pleasure to assure you~
there's nothing wrong
just as I, too,
simply adore a blue lotus,
entrancing and profound as a myosotis.

Curling Wisp of Smoke,

May I ask
why it's so easy to fall for you
and which way you're drifting away
with my fickle inspiration?
People warn me
against chasing you,
for it'll be futile
as chasing a will-o'-the-wisp.
If only my poetry would be ethereal
and elegant as you.
I won't feel regretful
even though
I have to spend my whole life.