Born Free

See

See these birds

A poet's world a doorless cage

So much to express

So unflinchingly love flies

Free

See

See these heads of grass

Upon my shoulders they rest

Flirtingly in a cheerful breeze

Sweetly snuggling up

To me

See

See these hard weathered stones

Moist in the morning dew

Beneath lies soft creatures

Mosses fill the cracks a-hugging

Like I to Mom Dad

See

See these rice fields

And this boy home from school

Stood he

Amidst his beloved grass

Earnestly searching

For the very first time

The blue deep sky

Begging for manna to fall

with a rice bowl Mom Dad picked.

He cried freely unknowingly

Why their strife and cane

My pain

See

See the rays of dawn

Sleepy mountains awakening

Still the sun is not harsh

The daffodils still smile

The rivers still sing

The nature of me

Speaks my soul born free

See

See this dam

Sounds of cascading memories

Found the silent depth of winter

And the revelry of diving ducks

Writing a winter's tale

Twinkle toes rippling

A many splendour things

Set my koinobori flying high above

And verily free

(Footnote: This poem is dedicated to my Mom and Dad, and the young couple who had wanted so much to adopt me. Also dedicated to my lovely Primary One teacher Lily Wong of Sunny Hill Seventh Adventist School - Kuching, who taught me my first song of love - Jesus Loves Me. I remembered very well how my classmates and I were chaperoned to the recording studio of a local radio station one day to sing this song.)

Rubbish Dump Dump

 

Rubbish Dump Dump (silly song)

Throwing rubbish

Can be fun

Proclaimed Mother 

To her son

Use this plastic

Not any one

In Yatta's name

We'll get it done!

O, mother!

Cried the son

Why O why

So troublesome

Why this plastic bag?

Tis' Special One?

Can't we use

Any One?

Don't dare ask

You my son

It is eight

Time has come!

Quick, the gate's open

you'd better run

Passed nine

You'll be done!

- I tell you

You'll Be Done!

Dear O dear

Thought the son

Talk too much

No bento lunch :(

That won't do

I'll be done!

Hi! Hi! Mummy-san

Your wish's My command!

Off I run

To the rubbish dump!

(Chorus)

Throwing rubbish

Can be fun

Sing this song

To our young

Tis' our song

Rubbish Dump Dump

In the Land

Of the Rising Sun

- Joseph Lai 

Today

 

TODAY

On today's

Rose-tinted petals

Of yesterday's

Youth

Upon thy futon

I offer you

Sasanqua

My dear Sakura

For I can create dreams

Of tomorrow and

Stardust forever

But only here

Today

My love is real

Fluffy-pink and bright

My heart for Sakura

Thank you

Sasanqua

So freely you give 

of your blossoms

So too can I give

Of you today

And ring my suzu

At thy shrine

- Joseph Lai 

Falling Leaves of Autumn

 

Falling Leaves of Autumn

Imagine, a leaf floating gently down a tree in the autumn of life, twirling a-spinning in the air like a ballerina in the last Movement to land with such sweet delicateness, without a sound, called Grace. 

We have just witnessed the getting on of a new retiree, the beginning of an old gold - yellow, brown and red of age. Now stripped and parted from the main - the busy a-bustling vascular system - it now sit, grounded and looking up what that has been, before. 

To retire gracefully is to love the serenity of being out. Out of the active system yet keeping your new self steadfast afoot of the tree of life, engaging in a disengaging way of a gentle old soul who neither fight nor struggle but rustling and dancing along, listening, smelling and seeing with renewed senses the beauty of Life with none other than our old whimsical Wind. 

Let her bring you where your destiny be. Gold, yellow, brown or red, you nourishes the tree with your sweet kindly presence. Till one day, if you could imagine, stopping at the impeccable stillness of that ethereal ballerina, frozen in timelessness. Give yourself a good long bow. 

The lark that you are in retirement finally returns to Good Earth. Back to the system we have never left actually.

Wisdom, if you would imagine, is to realize the heavens is here and now. Enjoy it to the fullest. Be free. It is so noble to be falling leaves. Falling yet not falling but rising to the heights of the heavens.

- Joseph Lai