Wednesday, 23 March 2011


“An act of love that fails is just as much a part of the divine life as an act of love that succeeds, for love is measured by fullness, not by reception.” - Harold Lokes

I’ve had a very busy couple of days at work, and in particular, today was rather stressful as the whole afternoon was taken up by a couple of staff mediation interviews that were very tough going for everyone concerned. Dealing with staff issues and their resolution can take up a great deal of time and one must invest in the process much effort and sensitivity, as well as proceeding in a fair, transparent and unprejudiced manner. These interviews today were unpleasant, but I was satisfied with what was achieved under the difficult circumstances. Nevertheless, I felt drained at the end of the day…

The autumnal weather is continuing and more rain is predicted for tonight and tomorrow. Temperatures are low and the skies leaden, with the occasional shower bathing the vegetation and carrying messages of winter’s approach. More leaves turn to yellow and the chrysanthemums are budding, while the garden is slowly becoming a place less attractive.

Here is a poem I wrote a long time ago, but remembered today as it was written in a autumnal mood and during the time of fall.


A pity that you failed to accept me
As the gift that I made of myself to you,
Freely and earnestly given.
You sent me away, lost me, forgot me,
Killing what was most beautiful in me.
I am a desert now, a burnt and barren wasteland
Filled only with cold gray ash.

A pity that you didn’t learn the language of tangerines,
You didn’t catch the moonbeams I handed to you plaited in a skein,
Forever lost as they sublimated around your clenched fists.
You failed to appreciate their worth,
Failed to even outstretch your hand in a token gesture of acceptance,
Leaving without turning back,
Leaving behind all of my offerings.

A pity that the syllables I whispered in your shell-pink ear
Secretly spoken with vowels of daisies and consonants of lilacs,
Fell softly, echoing briefly in empty rooms.
A pity that you stopped your ears lest you hear
The speech of affection and the song of love.
You didn’t feel, didn’t understand, didn’t even sympathise
With my savage need and urgent desire.

A pity that I was lost to you, was distanced from you,
All on a whim, you exiled me and banished even my memory,
Leaving with me only the remembrance of your rejection.
A pity that my heart remained a scorched place,
Refused the nourishing rain of your presence.
A pity that you left me, negating even my ability
To say that I lost you as I never had you.
A pity, as the greatest loser is you.


  1. like we say in hindi

    "dil behlaane ko ghalib khayaal acha hai "
    ie. its a nice thought to console thy self....smiles

    ah when to the heart of man
    was it ever less than treason
    to go with the drift of things
    to yield with a grace to reason
    to accept and bow
    to the end of a love or a season

    that bloke called frost sometimes knew what he was talking about....:))

  2. Unrequited love has inspired some magnificent works of art and literature. It would seem that artists and writers thrive on misfortune!

  3. As usual a beautiful poem, Nicholas...
    I love this part:
    "A pity that the syllables I whispered in your shell-pink ear
    Secretly spoken with vowels of daisies and consonants of lilacs,
    Fell softly, echoing briefly in empty rooms."