Whilst reading Robert Frost works, and researching their meanings, I have found a string that ties him in with many other poets, and writers. Shakespeare worked with this to be or not to be, concerning after life.
Frost has one thinking, if I have unbearable problems, and this mountain is too steep to climb, what would happen if I end my life. Would this, or that, be the end of all, or would my problems just go on ahead, and be waiting for me to arrive.
Many poems, from many poets pens, address this query.
I think I will scoot over to some colorful Fall leaves descriptions, for a time.
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bjbdbest
That E.E Cummings quote is one of the rules of raising children. A kind word, a pat on the head, encouragement seems to do wonders. It helps some of us elderly children also.

Neil

Sighs of Autumn Rain
Du Fu

In autumn rain, the grasses rot and die,
Below the steps, the jueming's colour is fresh. (senna)
Full green leaves cover the stems like feathers,
And countless flowers bloom like golden coins.
The cold wind, moaning, blows against you fiercely,
I fear that soon you'll find it hard to stand.
Upstairs the scholar lets down his white hair,
He faces the wind, breathes the fragrance, and weeps

Escape From Public Life

Returning to Live in the South (I)
Tao Qian

When young, I'd not enjoyed the common pleasures,
My nature's basic love was for the hills.
Mistakenly I fell into the worldly net,
And thus remained for thirteen years.
A bird once caged must yearn for its old forest,
A fish in a pond will long to return to the lake.
So now I want to head to southern lands,
Returning to my fields and orchards there.
About ten acres of land is all I have,
Just eight or nine rooms there in my thatched hut.
There's shade from elms and willows behind the eaves,
Before the hall are gathered peaches and plums.
Beyond the dark and distance lies a village,
The smoke above reluctant to depart.
A dog is barking somewhere down the lane,
And chickens sit atop the mulberry tree.
The mundane world has no place in my home,
My modest rooms are for the most part vacant.
At last I feel released from my confinement,
I set myself to rights again.

Hi Beverly

I did look up the local classes but they are all during the working day and it seems, locally, to be used as part of Cognitive Therapy.

So I've bought a good notepad and a special pen that writes poetry instead.

Currently being taught by a master, this is unfurling the pages of a dusty book.

Dave

I researched an assortment of Japanese poets, and their works. When I translated into English, they were butchered, and found it impossible to stick with the original text. Their pivot words throw us off and cannot be used as the original poets used them. I tried one from 626 AD and made a royal mess of it.
It appears Romance Languages cross translate the best. I wish I had taken Latin 1-2- and 3 whilst I was taking Spanish.