How they are provided for upon the earth,
(appearing at intervals;)
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth;
How they inure to themselves as much as to
any -- What a paradox appears their age;
How people respond to them, yet know them not;
How there is something relentless in their fate,
all times;
How all times mischoose the objects of their
adulation and reward,
And how the same inexorable price must still
be paid for the same great purchase.
Dark demon rising by Tunku Halim
I feared a big macaque attack
As I walked by, turning my back.
Though its expression seemed ill-meaning,
I turned to see it was still preening.
Stream-washed leaves are glistening.
Someone is boiling cocoons.
Workers gossip, I'm listening.
Dim-eyed man with a cane spoons
Food into a bowl, bending
To pass it before I swoon.
I ask when the bean leaves yellow.
How do you manage screen time for yourself?
Many ways, really: e.g. Go for a walk or otherwise move. Forget it exists. When the WiFi goes down, take it as a sign from the universe. Juggle. Do something productive.
the red hibiscus
draws attention to itself,
while pointing downward.
I see the writing on the wall,
and find it untrustworthy
because of all the stories
of valiant warriors
framed for treason
with forged poems
scrawled on tavern walls.
And of the virtuous men
who did write rancorous poems,
but did so while blackout drunk.
And I wonder whether the words
I am seeing are forged or written
under the influence
of intoxicants,
or -- possibly -- they are the truth.
But I cannot read them,
so I find them irrelevant,
though they may convey
crucial information,
such as:
- the existence of a vampire infestation, or
- the presence of cholera in the town well.
So, I can see the writing on the wall,
but I find it neither trustworthy
nor relevant --
(though my life may depend
on its contents.)
Grown about by Fragrant bushes,
Sunken in a winding valley,
Where the clear winds blow
And the shadows come and go,
And the cattle stand and low
And the sheep bells and the linnets
Sing and tinkle musically.
Between the past and the future,
Those two black infinities
Between which our brief life
Flashes a moment and goes out.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 