To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
....Would not we shatter it to bits and then
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
-
...........Translation by Edward Fitzgerald in his
...........Rubiyat of Omar Khayyam
Saturday, December 30, 2006
A Quatrain by Omar Khayyam Entry for December 31, 2006
Ah Love! could thou and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
....Would not we shatter it to bits and then
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
....Would not we shatter it to bits and then
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Christmas!! Written By My Incredible 90 Year Old Aunt - Entry for December 17, 2006
Christmas!!
By
Promilla Ghose
Not only today, but each day He is born anew
To help us reach our life’s measured goal;
To touch our fevered pulse and secret might imbue
For those who killed His body, could not kill His soul.
Each year He comes, not in a manger laid
On wisps of hay strewn about the place,
Or lies in the arms of a humble lowly maid
With God’s glory shining in her face.
No wise men bring their gifts of frankincense and myrrh
Nor shepherds sing their early hymns of praise,
Proud Herod sleeps, and does not move nor stir
His tryst with death is kept, cold is his gaze.
Each year He comes the Prince of Peace
And walks along Life’s road with you and me,
He lays His hands on anguished brows to cease
The turmoil of a seething world that be.
Not in lonely byways, but on broad paths of life,
In hospitals and schools, in lepers’ living graves
He puts forth His hand of solace in the strife
And cheers the falling warrior who his life’s battle braves,
He lives in human hearts when kindly words are spoken
Or cheering words of comfort that are said,
He lifts and helps a bruised life that’s broken
For only the Living can resurrect the dead.
By
Promilla Ghose
Not only today, but each day He is born anew
To help us reach our life’s measured goal;
To touch our fevered pulse and secret might imbue
For those who killed His body, could not kill His soul.
Each year He comes, not in a manger laid
On wisps of hay strewn about the place,
Or lies in the arms of a humble lowly maid
With God’s glory shining in her face.
No wise men bring their gifts of frankincense and myrrh
Nor shepherds sing their early hymns of praise,
Proud Herod sleeps, and does not move nor stir
His tryst with death is kept, cold is his gaze.
Each year He comes the Prince of Peace
And walks along Life’s road with you and me,
He lays His hands on anguished brows to cease
The turmoil of a seething world that be.
Not in lonely byways, but on broad paths of life,
In hospitals and schools, in lepers’ living graves
He puts forth His hand of solace in the strife
And cheers the falling warrior who his life’s battle braves,
He lives in human hearts when kindly words are spoken
Or cheering words of comfort that are said,
He lifts and helps a bruised life that’s broken
For only the Living can resurrect the dead.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Every one knows that you're right - just a point to ponder over
Don't steamroll anyone who happens to disagree
with you.
You're right, but you don't need to advertise it with
quite so much gusto.
with you.
You're right, but you don't need to advertise it with
quite so much gusto.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
UNKNOWN - A poem by me
UNKNOWN
He picked up the child in tender arms
The child that had been lying on the road
While thousands of people scuttled by
Not caring, not daring to add to their load
.
He ran doggedly as fast as he could
To the government hospital - Oh so far!
For he knew that it would do no good
Since his empty pockets would them bar
From the Doctors whose clinics lined the way
With nursing attendants in spotless white
Keeping at bay the poor, who dared to stray
Near their exhalted palaces by day or night
Flashes of red and green and white whizzed by
Each driven by eyes hastily averted
Ears invisibly muffed against his unuttered cry
For help, as his own dying heart blurted
Its fading beat into the thin cold air
Then into the hospital he somehow staggered
Helping hands lifted the child fair
He collapsed on the floor, pale and haggard
Weeks passed, a body for cremation was taken
From the icy morgue where it had been shown
To numberless people, who their heads had shaken
A neat label was pinned on it - UNKNOWN
. . . . . Deepak Menon
Thursday, November 02, 2006
A top secret joke I heard from someone ...
TOP SECRET
You've all heard of the Air Force's ultra-high-security, super-secret base in @@@@@, known simply as "Area 51?"
Well, late one afternoon, the Air Force folks out at Area 51 were very surprised to see a Cessna landing at their "secret" base. They immediately impounded the aircraft and hauled the pilot into an interrogation room.
The pilot's story was that he took off from ******, got lost, and spotted the Base just as he was about to run out of fuel. The Air Force started a full FBI background check on the pilot and held him overnight during the investigation.
By the next day, they were finally convinced that the pilot really was lost and wasn't a spy. They gassed up his airplane, gave him a terrifying "you-did-not-see-a-base" briefing, complete with threats of spending the rest of his life in prison, told him ***** was that-a-way on such-and-such a heading, and sent him on his way.
The next day, to the total disbelief of the Air Force, the same Cessna showed up again. Once again, the MP's surrounded the plane...only this time there were two people in the plane.
The same pilot jumped out and said, "Do anything you want to me, but my wife is in the plane and you have to tell her where I was last night!"
You've all heard of the Air Force's ultra-high-security, super-secret base in @@@@@, known simply as "Area 51?"
Well, late one afternoon, the Air Force folks out at Area 51 were very surprised to see a Cessna landing at their "secret" base. They immediately impounded the aircraft and hauled the pilot into an interrogation room.
The pilot's story was that he took off from ******, got lost, and spotted the Base just as he was about to run out of fuel. The Air Force started a full FBI background check on the pilot and held him overnight during the investigation.
By the next day, they were finally convinced that the pilot really was lost and wasn't a spy. They gassed up his airplane, gave him a terrifying "you-did-not-see-a-base" briefing, complete with threats of spending the rest of his life in prison, told him ***** was that-a-way on such-and-such a heading, and sent him on his way.
The next day, to the total disbelief of the Air Force, the same Cessna showed up again. Once again, the MP's surrounded the plane...only this time there were two people in the plane.
The same pilot jumped out and said, "Do anything you want to me, but my wife is in the plane and you have to tell her where I was last night!"
Monday, October 09, 2006
Mustapha the Boxman
His father used to come to our house with the
wonderful home baked Cakes in the mud ovens
he made. The cakes were a rich brown and filled
with raisens and nuts and were so divine that no
one ever can forget them. His father used to carry
the cakes with home baked biscuits called Naan Khatais
and other flat homebaked biscuits in a small tin box
which he used to carry on his head all over the house.
He was known as the "Boxman" and then many years ago
he died. His son Mustapha took over the box and today
looking almost exactly like his father - he carries the box
on his head from place to place always on foot which seems
like an incongruity in this age of fast cars and faster bikes
whizzing past the solitary boxman - a living relic of the age
of wonders now long past.
Mustapha always comes to our house like his father before
him and takes orders for the cakes with a small advance
a month or two before Easter and Christmas as well as the
new year and Diwali and Rakhee and Id and all the other
big festivals of this great multicultural country - India.
A few days ago he came to our house and like always we
bought a cake - this time it exceeded every expectation -
perhaps the best he has ever made and I am still regretting
that I did not buy some more .....
These are the photos I and Abha took with him with his
cakes and his box......What Nostalgia - being with this simple
man - still brimming with smiles and humour despite his
most arduous life ....
Monday, October 02, 2006
Mozzarella Cheese Recipe - Try it out and send me a sample Ha Ha
Recipe for making homemade mozzarella cheese.
Makes about 4 8oz balls
I N G R E D I E N T S
2 gallons milk, pasteurized and cooled to 90F
7 tablespoons cultured buttermilk
6 tablespoons yogurt
Rennet to coagulate 2 gallons milk (1/2 Hansenstablet) dissolved in about
1/2 cup Cold water.
I N S T R U C T I O N S
Mozzarella is one of several kinds of "plastic-curd" cheeses, originating in
Italy. In making them the curds are kneaded, which expels whey and produces
plasticity. Because of their dense texture they keep well in warm climates and
are ideal for smoking. Provolone is an aged version of a plastic-curd cheese.
Mozzarella is one of the most versatile cheeses to make at home,
since it tastes wonderful freshly made, freezes well, and can be used like an
aged cheese incooking, melting readily when heated.
Start this cheese in the evening.
Maintain the milk at 90^F in a double boiler.
Mix the buttermilk and yogurt separately with a little of the milk to remove
lumps, then blend into the rest of the milk.
Add the rennet solution and mix thoroughly.
Let sit until the curd sets and breaks clearly when tested with a finger a
bout 20 to 30 minutes.
Cut the curd into 1/2 inch cubes as evenly as possible.
Maintain at 90^F for 15 minutes, stirring with a clean hand.
The curds are fragile because they have not been cooked, so stir very gently,
just enough to keep them from matting together.
Gently pour the curds into a cloth lined colander.
When the whey has drained, the curd should be in one solid piece.
Rinse in cold water, then soak in a pan of cold water for 15 minutes.
If it is a big batch, cut the curd into several blocks, 4 or 5 inches square.
Drain off most of the water, then refrigerate the curds, or keep in
a cool, 40^F place.
Leave them in a colander or other container that allows drainage.
(Commercially, mozzarella curds are shipped to delicatessens
at this stage, where the cheese is finished.)
The next day, warm the cheese to room temperature so it will ripen, or
become more acidic.
After an hour or so, test the cheese for acidity as follows :-
Cut off a small piece of cheese and cut it into three 1/2 inch cubes.
Heat several cups of water in a sauce pan to 165^F.
Put in the cubes and stir for 5 minutes.
Remove the cubes and mold them together like modeling clay.
Reheat the lump of cheese in the water for a minute, then remove and
work or mold it together a little more.
After repeating several times, try to pull the curd apart.
If it breaks or tears, and clouds the water, it is under-ripe.
Wait an hour or so and test again.
When it pulls into a long rope and can be molded together again, it is
ready.
It will have a glossy surface and* will cloud the water only slightly.
The whole cheese is treated somewhat like the test sample to finish it.
Cut it into small cubes and put them in a pan.
Heat water to 170^F and pour enough over them, to cover the curds
by about 2 inches. Keep a thermometer in the pan and let the
temperature drop to 135^F.
Press the cubes together, and then knead the cheese, by stretching
and pulling it, as if working modelling clay. It should become
"plastic" and stretch into long strands.
When it does, shape into half pound balls, or make a thick rope, fold
it in half, and twist several times to make a decorative oblong cheese.
Mozzarella can be dipped in hot water to make a glossy surface,
or wrapped in cheese cloth to protect it.
To keep the cheese very fresh tasting for up to a week, keep it
in a bowl of water in the refrigerator, and change the water every day.
To salt mozzarella for longer keeping, or to prepare it for smoking,
soak it in brine for 4 or 5 hours (See Brined Cheese) The whey from
mozzarella is perfect for making ricotta because it does not have a chance
to develop much acidity.
Smoked Mozzarella: Mozzarella and other firm cheeses can be
cold smoked for flavor. Salting and smoking both help preserve the cheese
by drying it, and discouraging bacteria and insects. Set the cheese on a rack
in the smoker, or wrap in cheesecloth and hang it. Keep the temperature
below 90^F to prevent sweating off butterfat or melting.
Smoke at 60 to 85^F for 4 to 15 hours.
Brined Cheese: Press the cheese for 5 or 6 hours, or overnight, without
salting it. Make enough brine to cover the cheese by about an inch, using
4.1/2 Tablespoons of plain salt for every quart of water needed. Soak the
cheese from 12 to 24 hours. A small cheese requires less time than a large
one. Turn the cheese once or twice to ensure that the brine penetrates
all sides. Drain for about an hour on a cloth covered rack. Cover and
refrigerate. Keeps for a week or more, longer than most fresh cheeses.
. This recipe was Posted on GEnie Food & Wine RT Aug 22, 1992 by
COOKIE.LADY [MUMSIE] and the recipe is available at http://www.gourmetsleuth.com/mozzarellar...
Have a great time trying it out and don't forget me ....
Makes about 4 8oz balls
I N G R E D I E N T S
2 gallons milk, pasteurized and cooled to 90F
7 tablespoons cultured buttermilk
6 tablespoons yogurt
Rennet to coagulate 2 gallons milk (1/2 Hansenstablet) dissolved in about
1/2 cup Cold water.
I N S T R U C T I O N S
Mozzarella is one of several kinds of "plastic-curd" cheeses, originating in
Italy. In making them the curds are kneaded, which expels whey and produces
plasticity. Because of their dense texture they keep well in warm climates and
are ideal for smoking. Provolone is an aged version of a plastic-curd cheese.
Mozzarella is one of the most versatile cheeses to make at home,
since it tastes wonderful freshly made, freezes well, and can be used like an
aged cheese incooking, melting readily when heated.
Start this cheese in the evening.
Maintain the milk at 90^F in a double boiler.
Mix the buttermilk and yogurt separately with a little of the milk to remove
lumps, then blend into the rest of the milk.
Add the rennet solution and mix thoroughly.
Let sit until the curd sets and breaks clearly when tested with a finger a
bout 20 to 30 minutes.
Cut the curd into 1/2 inch cubes as evenly as possible.
Maintain at 90^F for 15 minutes, stirring with a clean hand.
The curds are fragile because they have not been cooked, so stir very gently,
just enough to keep them from matting together.
Gently pour the curds into a cloth lined colander.
When the whey has drained, the curd should be in one solid piece.
Rinse in cold water, then soak in a pan of cold water for 15 minutes.
If it is a big batch, cut the curd into several blocks, 4 or 5 inches square.
Drain off most of the water, then refrigerate the curds, or keep in
a cool, 40^F place.
Leave them in a colander or other container that allows drainage.
(Commercially, mozzarella curds are shipped to delicatessens
at this stage, where the cheese is finished.)
The next day, warm the cheese to room temperature so it will ripen, or
become more acidic.
After an hour or so, test the cheese for acidity as follows :-
Cut off a small piece of cheese and cut it into three 1/2 inch cubes.
Heat several cups of water in a sauce pan to 165^F.
Put in the cubes and stir for 5 minutes.
Remove the cubes and mold them together like modeling clay.
Reheat the lump of cheese in the water for a minute, then remove and
work or mold it together a little more.
After repeating several times, try to pull the curd apart.
If it breaks or tears, and clouds the water, it is under-ripe.
Wait an hour or so and test again.
When it pulls into a long rope and can be molded together again, it is
ready.
It will have a glossy surface and* will cloud the water only slightly.
The whole cheese is treated somewhat like the test sample to finish it.
Cut it into small cubes and put them in a pan.
Heat water to 170^F and pour enough over them, to cover the curds
by about 2 inches. Keep a thermometer in the pan and let the
temperature drop to 135^F.
Press the cubes together, and then knead the cheese, by stretching
and pulling it, as if working modelling clay. It should become
"plastic" and stretch into long strands.
When it does, shape into half pound balls, or make a thick rope, fold
it in half, and twist several times to make a decorative oblong cheese.
Mozzarella can be dipped in hot water to make a glossy surface,
or wrapped in cheese cloth to protect it.
To keep the cheese very fresh tasting for up to a week, keep it
in a bowl of water in the refrigerator, and change the water every day.
To salt mozzarella for longer keeping, or to prepare it for smoking,
soak it in brine for 4 or 5 hours (See Brined Cheese) The whey from
mozzarella is perfect for making ricotta because it does not have a chance
to develop much acidity.
Smoked Mozzarella: Mozzarella and other firm cheeses can be
cold smoked for flavor. Salting and smoking both help preserve the cheese
by drying it, and discouraging bacteria and insects. Set the cheese on a rack
in the smoker, or wrap in cheesecloth and hang it. Keep the temperature
below 90^F to prevent sweating off butterfat or melting.
Smoke at 60 to 85^F for 4 to 15 hours.
Brined Cheese: Press the cheese for 5 or 6 hours, or overnight, without
salting it. Make enough brine to cover the cheese by about an inch, using
4.1/2 Tablespoons of plain salt for every quart of water needed. Soak the
cheese from 12 to 24 hours. A small cheese requires less time than a large
one. Turn the cheese once or twice to ensure that the brine penetrates
all sides. Drain for about an hour on a cloth covered rack. Cover and
refrigerate. Keeps for a week or more, longer than most fresh cheeses.
. This recipe was Posted on GEnie Food & Wine RT Aug 22, 1992 by
COOKIE.LADY [MUMSIE] and the recipe is available at http://www.gourmetsleuth.com/mozzarellar...
Have a great time trying it out and don't forget me ....
Monday, September 18, 2006
MAKE THE WILLOWS WEEP - a poem by me
. And what is that strange bird flying so fast
Staying ahead of us all from first to last?
Leading the multitudes to some obscure goal
And does the goal lie in the future – or in the past?
For most, the dark hidden future is the goal
Towards which they direct their chariots roll
But you, for whom the bird stopped long ere
Still long for the bells of the past to toll
But was the past for which you do aspire,
The lofty summit of your temple’s spire?
. As you do claim in your poem to the world
Or will the bird, prove you too - a liar!
For did you not drift away with the bird
For did you not ignore the cries you heard
. Of your eternal love of a moment ago
And why then did you return afterward
To this silent garden of the Eternal Sleep
Where the dust underfoot is the Eternal Keep
. Of one who remained clutching to the heart
The Memories which make the Willows weep
.................................................Deepak Menon
Staying ahead of us all from first to last?
Leading the multitudes to some obscure goal
And does the goal lie in the future – or in the past?
For most, the dark hidden future is the goal
Towards which they direct their chariots roll
But you, for whom the bird stopped long ere
Still long for the bells of the past to toll
But was the past for which you do aspire,
The lofty summit of your temple’s spire?
. As you do claim in your poem to the world
Or will the bird, prove you too - a liar!
For did you not drift away with the bird
For did you not ignore the cries you heard
. Of your eternal love of a moment ago
And why then did you return afterward
To this silent garden of the Eternal Sleep
Where the dust underfoot is the Eternal Keep
. Of one who remained clutching to the heart
The Memories which make the Willows weep
.................................................Deepak Menon
I WONDER IF YOU EVER HEARD - A poem by me
I wonder if you ever heard
The songs I sang for you
I wonder if you ever saw
The flowers I plucked for you
.
For you were always so far away
Even when by my side you sat
Thinking of the approaching storm
While I rambled of this and that
.
I wonder why you never saw
The house I built for you
To shield you from the clouds you saw
With bloody droplets of love true
.
Why then have you returned to see
This decrepit wreck sitting here
This shadow of what once was me
Why do you now shed a tear?
. .................................Deepak Menon 1998
The songs I sang for you
I wonder if you ever saw
The flowers I plucked for you
.
For you were always so far away
Even when by my side you sat
Thinking of the approaching storm
While I rambled of this and that
.
I wonder why you never saw
The house I built for you
To shield you from the clouds you saw
With bloody droplets of love true
.
Why then have you returned to see
This decrepit wreck sitting here
This shadow of what once was me
Why do you now shed a tear?
. .................................Deepak Menon 1998
Thursday, September 14, 2006
IF EVER, OVER MY GRAVE, YOU GRIEVE - Poem by Deepak Menon
A moment ago your eyes personified life's joys,
...............great and small
Your face smiled at the world.
Your face still smiles, but like the smile painted on a doll
As absently, you brush aside a curl,
.
Of your carelessly ribboned locks of wavy lustrous hair
Falling in a cascade around your face.
And I see that the fire of love in your eyes, is no longer there
Vanished without a trace.
.
I know that, for some time you will continue to profess love
While you gently retreat,
From my life, knowing that, I have already suffered enough
While worshipping your feet.
.
I wonder if you will ever think about me in later years,
When another, you gently leave;
I wonder if your lovely eyes will well with reluctant tears,
If ever, over my grave, you grieve.
. . . . ........................ Deepak Menon
...............great and small
Your face smiled at the world.
Your face still smiles, but like the smile painted on a doll
As absently, you brush aside a curl,
.
Of your carelessly ribboned locks of wavy lustrous hair
Falling in a cascade around your face.
And I see that the fire of love in your eyes, is no longer there
Vanished without a trace.
.
I know that, for some time you will continue to profess love
While you gently retreat,
From my life, knowing that, I have already suffered enough
While worshipping your feet.
.
I wonder if you will ever think about me in later years,
When another, you gently leave;
I wonder if your lovely eyes will well with reluctant tears,
If ever, over my grave, you grieve.
. . . . ........................ Deepak Menon
Monday, September 11, 2006
STOP - RED LIGHT - FOLLOW THE RULES OF THE ROAD
TRAFFIC SIGNALS IN THE DISCIPLINED
INDIA OF TODAY ARE FOLLOWED BY
EVERY INDIAN REGARDLESS OF CASTE,
CREED,RELIGION,RACE,NATIONALITY
OR SPECIES !!!!!!
I got this from someone on the net andwanted to share it immediately ....
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
THE SMILE THAT YOU KEPT FOR ME
. . .By Deepak Menon
There was once a smile as sweet as honey
Yet it was wild as the sea
A smile that could set bells a ringing
The smile that you kept for me
.
An enigmatic smile it was at times
A smile at times lonely
A smile that brought cheer to my life
The smile that you kept for me
.
It was a smile that caused hearts to flutter
With envy and jealousy
When people saw it was not for them
The smile that you kept for me
.
A smile that brought out the best in me
Like courage and bravery
A smile that spurred me to greater heights
The smile that you kept for me
.
But time took its toll and it faded at last
As was never meant to be
And strained is that once beautiful smile
The smile that you keep for me
There was once a smile as sweet as honey
Yet it was wild as the sea
A smile that could set bells a ringing
The smile that you kept for me
.
An enigmatic smile it was at times
A smile at times lonely
A smile that brought cheer to my life
The smile that you kept for me
.
It was a smile that caused hearts to flutter
With envy and jealousy
When people saw it was not for them
The smile that you kept for me
.
A smile that brought out the best in me
Like courage and bravery
A smile that spurred me to greater heights
The smile that you kept for me
.
But time took its toll and it faded at last
As was never meant to be
And strained is that once beautiful smile
The smile that you keep for me
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Great people say and write great things ... So learn them if you can ..
SOME GREAT QUOTES BY GREAT MEN
.
1. Nothing is particularly hard if you divide it into small jobs.
Henry Ford.
2.I haven't failed, I've found 10,000 ways that don't work.
Thomas Edison
.
3. Always continue to climb. It is possible for you to do whatever you choose, if you first get to know who you are and are willing to work with a power that is greater than ourselves to do it.
Oprah Winfrey
.
4. Ideas must work through the brains and arms of good and brave men, or they are no better than dreams.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
.
5. If I were a medical man, I should prescribe a holiday to any patient who considered his work important.
Bertrand Russell
.
6. No rules for success will work if you don't.
Unknown
.
7. Problems are only opportunities in work clothes.
Henry Kaiser
.
8. The best kind of pride is that which compels a person to do his or her best even when no one is looking.
Unknown
.
9. The only place where success comes before work is in the dictionary.
Vidal Sassoon
.
10. Without ambition one starts nothing. Without work one finishes nothing. The prize will not be sent to you. You have to win it.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
.
11. When love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece.
John Ruskin
.
12. Warning to all Personnel: Firings will continue until morale improves.
Anonymous
.
13. Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.
Thomas Edison
.
14. Every man's work, whether it be literature, or music or pictures or architecture or anything else, is always a portrait of himself.
Samuel Butler
.
15. One plays for the sake of work and works for the sake of leisure.
Aristotle
.
16. The work praises the man.
Irish proverb
.
17. Work your way up or rust your way out.
H Holton
.
I hope you liked this selection but always remember that though a lot of the quotes are about WORK - I never liked that silly thing Work because it is without a doubt the most boring task to do ...
.
Here is one I have just thought up :-
18. "Give 'em a smile and they'll take a mile"
Deepak Menon
29 Aug 2006 on my daughters birthday!
Saturday, August 26, 2006
A TIME TO CLING TO ...A Poem by me
A TIME TO CLING TO ...
And a time to cling to and never let go
A time of which we have nothing to show
A time when in profound joy we lie low
A time of love, which we never out grow
.
A time of love welling up in joyous souls
A time to grapple inspiration to our souls
A time when love light over our world rolls
Our object of love becomes our single goal
.
Remember my friends very many perspectives
Colour this Earth where puny mankind lives
And here is where the glory of love lives
Ruling our destinies and Golden dreams gives
.
So be not ruled by the mind's sense and reason
Do not change your colors with every season
Never against your love commit any treason
Golden is the color of Eternal Love’s Season
Deepak Menon
25 Aug 2006
And a time to cling to and never let go
A time of which we have nothing to show
A time when in profound joy we lie low
A time of love, which we never out grow
.
A time of love welling up in joyous souls
A time to grapple inspiration to our souls
A time when love light over our world rolls
Our object of love becomes our single goal
.
Remember my friends very many perspectives
Colour this Earth where puny mankind lives
And here is where the glory of love lives
Ruling our destinies and Golden dreams gives
.
So be not ruled by the mind's sense and reason
Do not change your colors with every season
Never against your love commit any treason
Golden is the color of Eternal Love’s Season
Deepak Menon
25 Aug 2006
Sunday, August 13, 2006
It took a long time coming .. Appreciation from my precious son
And today my son Sam brought a glow of love all over me with this letter he sent :-
.
Dearest Pop,
I was reading Tamam Shudh again. And it is indeed the best poetry I've ever read. You ROCK!!! :-D...Lots of love and kisses,
Sam
.
So what more can one want in this world?
.
And the cover of the book I am placing below
Saturday, August 12, 2006
A quatrain by someone and another by me
The quatrain by someone I read in an old old book was :-
.
You to the Mosque with howling Hymn and Prayer
And I to the Tavern do repair
Each to find Allah in his diverse ways
I find him here - do you find him there?
.
And here is a quatrain I wrote :-
.
58.A traveler approaching the Tavern cried
" Open the doors and let me come inside,
to restore my faith for a little while
Before back into the heartless world -I ride".
.
Deepak Menon - From My book of Quatrains - Tamamshudh
.
You to the Mosque with howling Hymn and Prayer
And I to the Tavern do repair
Each to find Allah in his diverse ways
I find him here - do you find him there?
.
And here is a quatrain I wrote :-
.
58.A traveler approaching the Tavern cried
" Open the doors and let me come inside,
to restore my faith for a little while
Before back into the heartless world -I ride".
.
Deepak Menon - From My book of Quatrains - Tamamshudh
Literature is the Mirror of our Times - A poem by Deepak Menon
Literature is the mirror of the times they say
Reflecting the colours of the present day
The joys and the sorrows of the world they say
Sentiments which rise when the people pray.
.
So the world today when today described
In words that its true sentiments cried
Must be the flavour of the times imbibed
In the general psyche of men world wide
.
The flavour of sweeping pride and hate
Attacking in strength providence's gate
With rabble rousers taunting to inflate
Fear in people against their earlier mate
.
The flavour of the sentiments of the vulture
Listening with each breath for the overture
Of discontent with visions of the dark future
In religion or wealth which is losing lusture
.
And the flavour of the lurking jackal
Who lurks in the shadows watching all
Who stray even a little from justices hall
To give his pack destructions clarion call
.
And descend on the peaceful remains of earth
Hoardes who were born to a gentle hearth
Misled by scavenging beings soon after birth
To evolve into destroyers of laughter and mirth
.
And rob this gentle earth of its gown of love
Causing to fly away with peace the gentle dove
Closing the escape window to the One above
Hate, Jealousy, Anger, Deceit replacing LOVE
.
So what shall this Literateur write about?
Shall he ramble and incoherently shout?
Like a senseless bully become an enraged lout?
Or shall he live and silently against injustice shout ?
.
God made us to live within the borders of our lord
Love and Kindness to spread across the board
To protect and save without expectaion of reward
To sing messages of love like an an immortal bard
.
But somewhere along the way humanity has strayed
And by some malignant dark force been waylaid
And the visits to old friends are now akin to a raid
With loot lining the thorn bed for friends now made
.
Perhaps love shall still rise from the earth like a sphinx
Perhaps it shall still enter the minds of one who thinks
And repair the chain of brotherhood’s broken links
And smoothen out the creases and break the jinx
.
So that the people of the world can once again smile
And love and hope and laughing the entire while
Embrace their brothers and sisters across every mile
With open love rise from darkness without guile......
.
. Deepak Menon - 12 Aug 06
Reflecting the colours of the present day
The joys and the sorrows of the world they say
Sentiments which rise when the people pray.
.
So the world today when today described
In words that its true sentiments cried
Must be the flavour of the times imbibed
In the general psyche of men world wide
.
The flavour of sweeping pride and hate
Attacking in strength providence's gate
With rabble rousers taunting to inflate
Fear in people against their earlier mate
.
The flavour of the sentiments of the vulture
Listening with each breath for the overture
Of discontent with visions of the dark future
In religion or wealth which is losing lusture
.
And the flavour of the lurking jackal
Who lurks in the shadows watching all
Who stray even a little from justices hall
To give his pack destructions clarion call
.
And descend on the peaceful remains of earth
Hoardes who were born to a gentle hearth
Misled by scavenging beings soon after birth
To evolve into destroyers of laughter and mirth
.
And rob this gentle earth of its gown of love
Causing to fly away with peace the gentle dove
Closing the escape window to the One above
Hate, Jealousy, Anger, Deceit replacing LOVE
.
So what shall this Literateur write about?
Shall he ramble and incoherently shout?
Like a senseless bully become an enraged lout?
Or shall he live and silently against injustice shout ?
.
God made us to live within the borders of our lord
Love and Kindness to spread across the board
To protect and save without expectaion of reward
To sing messages of love like an an immortal bard
.
But somewhere along the way humanity has strayed
And by some malignant dark force been waylaid
And the visits to old friends are now akin to a raid
With loot lining the thorn bed for friends now made
.
Perhaps love shall still rise from the earth like a sphinx
Perhaps it shall still enter the minds of one who thinks
And repair the chain of brotherhood’s broken links
And smoothen out the creases and break the jinx
.
So that the people of the world can once again smile
And love and hope and laughing the entire while
Embrace their brothers and sisters across every mile
With open love rise from darkness without guile......
.
. Deepak Menon - 12 Aug 06
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
'Tis an idle fancy! - A poem by Deepak Menon
I love HER? How can you say that?
I tell you it is not true!
You insist! Even when it isn't a fact?
Oh! How can I convince you?
.
I do not believe a word you say!
And even if I did, so what?
So what if throughout the day
My brow is feverish and hot?
.
So what if from my deepest slumber
I start and then to her call out?
So what if efforts to erase her memory
Have by time - been put to rout?
.
So what if I only think of her
And talk and dream and live her name?
So what if my eyes are often filmed
With tears of sorrow, lingering shame
.
That I could not my conscience still
And keep my tryst with destiny's call?
So what if her image my heart does fill
So what if she holds my heart in thrall?
.
'Tis nonsense, once more I tell you
You are mistaken though you know me well
Even though away with my soul she flew
'Tis an idle fancy, - can't you tell?
I tell you it is not true!
You insist! Even when it isn't a fact?
Oh! How can I convince you?
.
I do not believe a word you say!
And even if I did, so what?
So what if throughout the day
My brow is feverish and hot?
.
So what if from my deepest slumber
I start and then to her call out?
So what if efforts to erase her memory
Have by time - been put to rout?
.
So what if I only think of her
And talk and dream and live her name?
So what if my eyes are often filmed
With tears of sorrow, lingering shame
.
That I could not my conscience still
And keep my tryst with destiny's call?
So what if her image my heart does fill
So what if she holds my heart in thrall?
.
'Tis nonsense, once more I tell you
You are mistaken though you know me well
Even though away with my soul she flew
'Tis an idle fancy, - can't you tell?
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Lyrics of the Red River Valley - Singer and writer unknown
For long I thought about the lyrics of the song
The days spent in looking for it became long
Then out of the blue came the beautiful three
Who knew the words and sent them to me!
AND THOUGH THE WRITER OF THE SONG
IS LOST IN THE MIST OF TIME ...
THE SONG REMAINS IMMORTAL FOR ALL TIME
.
Here are the words :-
.
Red River Valley
CHORUS
From this valley they say you are going
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile
For they say you are taking the sunshine
That has brightened our pathways awhile
.
Come and sit by my side, if you love me
Do not hasten to bid me adieu
Just remember the Red River Valley
And the cowboy who loved you so true
.
I've been thinking a long time, my darling
Of the sweet words you never would say
Now, alas, must my fond hopes all vanish
For they say you are gong away
.
Do you think of the valley you're leaving
Or how lonely and how dreary it will be
D'you think of the hearts you are breaking
And the pain you are causing to me
.
They will bury me where you have wandered
Near the hills where the daffodils grow
When you're gone from the Red River Valley
For I can't live without you I know
.
CHORUS
From this valley they say you are going
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile
For they say you are taking the sunshine
That has brightened our pathways awhile
The days spent in looking for it became long
Then out of the blue came the beautiful three
Who knew the words and sent them to me!
AND THOUGH THE WRITER OF THE SONG
IS LOST IN THE MIST OF TIME ...
THE SONG REMAINS IMMORTAL FOR ALL TIME
.
Here are the words :-
.
Red River Valley
CHORUS
From this valley they say you are going
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile
For they say you are taking the sunshine
That has brightened our pathways awhile
.
Come and sit by my side, if you love me
Do not hasten to bid me adieu
Just remember the Red River Valley
And the cowboy who loved you so true
.
I've been thinking a long time, my darling
Of the sweet words you never would say
Now, alas, must my fond hopes all vanish
For they say you are gong away
.
Do you think of the valley you're leaving
Or how lonely and how dreary it will be
D'you think of the hearts you are breaking
And the pain you are causing to me
.
They will bury me where you have wandered
Near the hills where the daffodils grow
When you're gone from the Red River Valley
For I can't live without you I know
.
CHORUS
From this valley they say you are going
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile
For they say you are taking the sunshine
That has brightened our pathways awhile
SONNET NO 3 by Deepak Menon
A dryad of the Forest on a wooded mountain's crest
Flicking in and out of the shadows of autumn leaves
A magic fleeting glimpse of dappled dreams blest
By the hand of the Creator for whom eternity grieves
. Was the love I yearned through troubled times and good
. Was the sound of a voice long gone into yesterday's bed
. Was the being of a golden smile carved in hardened wood
. For which again and anon my dispirited heart bled
Till ensanguined it became as the pale horse of death
And the wine turned vintage and dried into grey ash
While the vessel crumbling did scream out the threat
To eject the dying spirit in one great blinding flash
. 'Twas then that like rain from the sky - thy falling tears
. On my upturned face - gave life for the coming years.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Reflections on Jealousy by Deepak Menon
11. JEALOUSY.
11.1 Beware of jealousy. It will reduce the strongest mind to
imbecelity. It will reduce the strongest body to a bag of bones.
And it will burn out all emotions forever.
.imbecelity. It will reduce the strongest body to a bag of bones.
And it will burn out all emotions forever.
11.2 The jealous are like the clouds passing on overhead. One
is never sure when one or the other will pour.
.
11.3 Behold the great Oracle. He can tell you every thing that
will happen in the future - except the actions of one afflicted
with jealousy.
.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Entry for June 22, 2006 - A verse from my book "Tamamshudh"
'Tis a strange desire that will not go away
Even when the Vine's daughter holds me in sway.
. To try to forget the moment spent with thee
Is the reason I go to the tavern - day after day.
Quatrain No 76 from Tamamshudh by deepak menon
Even when the Vine's daughter holds me in sway.
. To try to forget the moment spent with thee
Is the reason I go to the tavern - day after day.
Quatrain No 76 from Tamamshudh by deepak menon
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
The Glorious Love Flag - A poem by Deepak Menon
Treasures of life lie scattered along the way
Ahead is the fiery dragon we must slay
To cross the bridge across the abyss so deep
To reach the paradise where we are to sleep
No sword do we have in our hands to weild
The dragon is strong and will never yeild
And if we stop and pause a while to think
Time will see that our armour has a chink
And the insidious mist of foraging time
Will enter with its sweet enticing wine
And lost in reviewing our life page by page
We shall fall victim to ravaging age
What shall we do? The cry erupts in pain
From our parched lips turned upwards for rain
Then falls on them a tiny little drop
Of sweet nectar of love from Gods own crop
And the sword is sheathed with a bright smile
Lightened strides swiftly cover the last mile
The beacon of love lights up the dark world
The glorious love flag above is unfurled
And the dragons fire of hate dies out
And he stands aside – we joyously shout
Hurray! As we enter the promised land
To embrace for ever our long lost band
The people who had left our little world
Or into the raging storms of life hurled
By time, which then only stops at the gate
Of Eternity where we meet our mate
Then there is no other journey to start
There we shall again never have to part
From the ones who were the songs of our life
To oblivion shall be banished all strife
To cross the bridge across the abyss so deep
To reach the paradise where we are to sleep
No sword do we have in our hands to weild
The dragon is strong and will never yeild
And if we stop and pause a while to think
Time will see that our armour has a chink
And the insidious mist of foraging time
Will enter with its sweet enticing wine
And lost in reviewing our life page by page
We shall fall victim to ravaging age
What shall we do? The cry erupts in pain
From our parched lips turned upwards for rain
Then falls on them a tiny little drop
Of sweet nectar of love from Gods own crop
And the sword is sheathed with a bright smile
Lightened strides swiftly cover the last mile
The beacon of love lights up the dark world
The glorious love flag above is unfurled
And the dragons fire of hate dies out
And he stands aside – we joyously shout
Hurray! As we enter the promised land
To embrace for ever our long lost band
The people who had left our little world
Or into the raging storms of life hurled
By time, which then only stops at the gate
Of Eternity where we meet our mate
Then there is no other journey to start
There we shall again never have to part
From the ones who were the songs of our life
To oblivion shall be banished all strife
By Deepak Menon - 14th June 2006 on this blog
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
An utterly butterly divine creation of nature - photographed by me!!
Wonder of wonders - the very first butterfly
I saw in my garden this year and the lazy and
noisy me managed not only to get the camera
before it flew away - but also managed to reach
it noiselessly and photograph. I wonder if some
one will give me the pat on the back I richly
deserve for this stupendous acheivement!!
Saturday, May 27, 2006
A Distant Shore - A poem by Deepak Menon
A Distant Shore
.
Strange, through this crowd of anguished souls
My chariot with some hidden purpose rolls
Carrying me helplessly to some distant shore
But will I reach it before my bell tolls?
.
And having reached that dim distant shore
Will I find that I have been there before?
And will I hear that same song in the breeze
That was sung by thee in the days of yore?
.
And will that great love folklore of the past
Awaken to its destiny at long long last?
And will thy spirit assume the form I knew
Before it too was into the cauldron cast?
.
And shall then the cauldron spill out its content?
And shall then serenades, the still air rent?
Summoning the lost loves, of yester-years
And shall then return those, who yesterday went?
.
And will they have the meaning of life learned?
And will they cherish what once they spurned?
And will there be songs singing in their hearts?
Or will their souls too, into stone have turned?
.
Deepak Menon
Copyright ©2004 Deepak Menon
.
Strange, through this crowd of anguished souls
My chariot with some hidden purpose rolls
Carrying me helplessly to some distant shore
But will I reach it before my bell tolls?
.
And having reached that dim distant shore
Will I find that I have been there before?
And will I hear that same song in the breeze
That was sung by thee in the days of yore?
.
And will that great love folklore of the past
Awaken to its destiny at long long last?
And will thy spirit assume the form I knew
Before it too was into the cauldron cast?
.
And shall then the cauldron spill out its content?
And shall then serenades, the still air rent?
Summoning the lost loves, of yester-years
And shall then return those, who yesterday went?
.
And will they have the meaning of life learned?
And will they cherish what once they spurned?
And will there be songs singing in their hearts?
Or will their souls too, into stone have turned?
.
Deepak Menon
Copyright ©2004 Deepak Menon
'Daffodils' by William Wordsworth
'Daffodils'
William Wordsworth
.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
.
Continuous as the stars that shine
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way
They stretched in never-ending line
along the margin of the bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance
.
The waves beside them danced;but they
The waves beside them danced;but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be so gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
.
For oft, when on my couch I lie
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon the inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
.
The simplicity and beauty of great poetry ...
All Through The Night
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Alfred Lord Tennyson
.
Sleep my love and peace attend thee,
Sleep my love and peace attend thee,
All through the night;
Guardian angels, God will send thee,
All through the night
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,
Love alone His watch is keeping,
All through the night.
.
While the moon her watch is keeping,
While the moon her watch is keeping,
All through the night;
While the weary world is sleeping,
All through the night
.
O'er the spirit gently stealing,
Visions of delight revealing,
Breathes a pure and holy feeling,
All through the night
.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
A quatrain from Khayyam and one written by me..
LXXIII. A quartrain by Omar Khayyam from
his immortal Rubiyyat of Omar Khayyam
translated by Edward Fitzgerald
.
.
Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
.
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
.
Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
.
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
.
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
.
Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
.
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
.
*******
No 132. A quartrain by Deepak Menon from his book of
Poetry - Tamam Shudh - Poems of Passion
.
Many a time have I made strong my resolve
.
To seek an answer - the great mystery to solve
.
As to why HE who gives and takes all
.
Decreed that the puzzle of life - remain unsolv'd?
Monday, May 15, 2006
A CHILD OF THE EARTH - A poem by Deepak Menon
I am a child of the Earth
Priceless and Rare
A child so fair
Drinking its love since birth
At first I understood not why
Hunger made me weak
No one to me would speak
And I would cling to the Earth and cry
And many questions rose in my brain
Why were my clothes torn?
Why was I weary and worn?
Why did I have to sleep out in the rain?
And as I grew the answers came to me
I was a child of the Earth
Which was my house and my hearth
To share it's joy and pain was my destiny
And now as on it's cold bosom I lie
Its anguished love to share
I see before me laid bare
The souls of the Averted Eyes scurrying by.
Copyright - Deepak Menon
Re Post of Empire Hill - The Battle of Bunker Hill - A poem by Deepak Menon
I decided to post this again
.
EMPIRE HILL
The battle lost , the remnants fled
Of the once proud host, gallantly led
By flamboyant officers in flashing red
Nursing wounds that profusely bled
.
Not long 'ere had bounded up the hill
Hearts pounding, flush'd with the thrill
Of certain victory, no thought that ill
Could befall them, of indomitable will
.
Almost at the summit, they heard a shout
"NOW LADS," and then, there flashed out
A wall of flame, from the silent redoubt
And then began the rout
.
Of the greatest army the world had known
By ragged farmers in skin and bone
Who rebelled against the British throne
To found a nation of their own
.
A haphazard derelict mob, of motley men
With flintlocks so old, some knew not when
they had been made, or even when
had last been used, or would function then.
.
They crouched behind their earthen mound
which overnight, had raised from the ground,
And with haggard eyes looked around
Their ears filled with the thunderous sound
.
Of the Redshirts charging in full cry
And each thought he'd surely die
And his body rotting there would lie
Food for the vultures circling high.
.
For ammunition, they almost had none
No strength had they to try to run
Just one thought, into their minds was drum'd
Hold fire, and the battle is won
.
So there they crouched with simple faith
Until it was almost too late
For nearly upon them, crazed with hate
Loomed the enemy, invincible and great
.
Then suddenly they heard the awaited shout
"FIRE," and the trusty flints belched out
A sheet of death in a mighty gout
Which toss'd the British right about.
.
Like corks floating in a stormy sea
Shattering instantly what used to be
The pride of the Empire's army
But the farmers still crouched wearily.
.
Not even knowing they had toll'd
That day on Bunker Hill
The bell, whose chimes rolled
Around the world until
.
......THE LOSS OF EMPIRE
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Pictures of long ago and a trophy
This post is dedicated to my son Sammy who was so
caring even when he was a little boy and my startling
daughter who is not serene at all unlike her name
Serena and my "dedicated to work" wife Abha who won
the trophy on the SARC two wheeler rally on a scooter
and the friends who had a picnic with us when I
had the idea of having a Birthday Picnic instead of a
Birthday Party at a picnic spot near our town and
finally and mainly it is dedicated to my wonderful mother
who is in the blue saree in the group of people you see
and who taught us in her own simple words
"you should always be kind, gentle and loving"
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Sailing over the Turquoise Sea - A painting by Deepak Menon
.jpg)
The days of the great sailing ships are over
but memories of their glory live on ....
Saturday, May 06, 2006
The Reunion of my Probationary Officers Batch 1980
We had a wonderful reunion in January 2006
and though some were missing - many came
and we remembered the old days and
and laughed and joked with abandon and then
suddenly realised that - though we were older,
and perhaps a little wiser, we were in no way
different from what we had been when
we had joined that wonderful organisation
"The State Bank of India"
.jpg)
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Sleep! - A poem by Deepak Menon
SLEEP
Sleep! Why do you not come to me?
To cradle my furrowed brow in your lap
And gently close my eyes
Shutting out the world of lies
Where caged I live in this iron trap.
I know that you do not understand why
I should call to you so very soon
When it was only last night
In dusk's fading light
That you came to me with the rising moon
And while I slumbered, you smoothed my brow
And covered my body with your own gown
Though restless I slept
And in dreams I wept
Tears my livid memory scars to drown
I woke with the same old ache in my heart
Feeling that to me you had never come
Had never rested my head
On your lap pillow in bed
Forgive me! I was not what I have become.
Sleep! Why do you not come to me?
To cradle my furrowed brow in your lap
And gently close my eyes
Shutting out the world of lies
Where caged I live in this iron trap.
I know that you do not understand why
I should call to you so very soon
When it was only last night
In dusk's fading light
That you came to me with the rising moon
And while I slumbered, you smoothed my brow
And covered my body with your own gown
Though restless I slept
And in dreams I wept
Tears my livid memory scars to drown
I woke with the same old ache in my heart
Feeling that to me you had never come
Had never rested my head
On your lap pillow in bed
Forgive me! I was not what I have become.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
And where lives the Gardener ... A quatrain by Deepak Menon
Quatrain No 88. From Tamamshudh
There are some old debts, which I must but repay
for collecting roses scattered along my way.
But how will I return along the path of life?
for collecting roses scattered along my way.
But how will I return along the path of life?
And where lives the Gardener, to whom I must pay?
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Where have all the flowers gone - The words of that beautiful song
Having long ago forgotten the words - I asked a question
on yahoo answers and then went through the similair
questions list and FOUND the words !
So I am pasting them for you all to sing and cherish the
thought behind them.
.
Where have all the flowers gone?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone?
Girls have picked them every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
.
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young girls gone?
Taken husbands every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
.
Where have all the young men gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young men gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young men gone?
Gone for soldiers every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
.
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards every one
When will they ever learn?W
hen will they ever learn?
.
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Covered with flowers every one
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?
.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
I may never see - a Quatrain by Deepak Menon
A QUATRAIN for those who are far away...
I may never see the tender beauty of thine eyes
Nor see thy body from gentle slumber rise
But far away, I have felt the heaving of thy bosom
Its raging storms, soaring into the skies.
Nor see thy body from gentle slumber rise
But far away, I have felt the heaving of thy bosom
Its raging storms, soaring into the skies.
And the same thought restructured and
rewritten with the syllables counted....
I may not see the beauty of thine eyes
Nor see thy body from its slumber rise
But from far I have felt thy bosum heave
It's raging storms, soaring into the skies!
Sunday, April 23, 2006
A Painting by my daughter Serena - Sailing through choppy seas
And I thought ... that I was better than my daughter!!
She painted this painting virtually in an hour
She painted this painting virtually in an hour
or two and showed me who was better since I
would take weeks to make a painting - in fact I painted
for only a year or so - and then gave up painting
altogether because it was too hard for me!
SAILING THROUGH CHOPPY SEAS
by Serena Menon
Saturday, April 22, 2006
The story of a letter I sent and a Poem I composed - Deepak Menon
Dear p_and_q
You sent me the mail and perhaps I have
You sent me the mail and perhaps I have
been found wanting in respect of not being
able to send you the name of the poem or the
poet or anything else about its origins which
you asked for. But I am writing the rest of it
just now and hope the poor substitute
which I manage to write and send
holds the fort for you.
.
"My Aunt she died a month ago,
.
"My Aunt she died a month ago,
And left me all her riches,
Shattered - my head hung low
Memories stored in Niches
.
Niches of my shaken mind
In fragments - a kalediscope
Of the care she gave to bind
Us for ever without a rope
No shackles to hold us were used
No threats of dire consequences
No attempt to leave us confused
No slaps to bring us to our senses
.
Her riches were not stores of gold
Or mansions built of marble and jade
Nor valued antiques one could hold
Nor bank accounts which bankers made
.
They were the treasures of her mind
Memories she kept to share some day
Stored in little diaries she would bind
To help us read and find our way
.
Through this maze we call our lives
Where faith and love are hard to find
Where husbands leave their caring wives
Wives have changed their tone of mind
.
Where children leave parents for money
Where mammon has the field to play
Where words said are coated with honey
Where to hear them we have to pay
.
Pay with the sacrifice of our love
Pay with sacrifice or all our peace
Pay by raising our hands to him above
To save us from them who fleece
.
No-my Aunt left us the meaning of “Love”
And the meaning of the word “Care”
She left for us her memories glove
To shield us always - every where
.
And remind us of the battles fought
To keep us sheltered from any harm
And in harms net we were never caught
Because of her steady caring arm
.
She left us the treasure of eternal joy
In the small things found in this world
The little girls skip or the prance of a boy
The sound of laughter into the wind hurled
.
She left us a vision of brotherhood
Of a paradise of winged angel’s song
Of dancing as much as we ever could
Of a shining future with music all along
.
That was how best my aunt can I describe
And the precious gifts she left for us all
Treasures with which us she would bribe
To always keep our footsteps in truth’s Hall !
.
Deepak Menon
Dehradun, India, 20th April 2006
PS :- Your letter sent to me was :-
Shattered - my head hung low
Memories stored in Niches
.
Niches of my shaken mind
In fragments - a kalediscope
Of the care she gave to bind
Us for ever without a rope
No shackles to hold us were used
No threats of dire consequences
No attempt to leave us confused
No slaps to bring us to our senses
.
Her riches were not stores of gold
Or mansions built of marble and jade
Nor valued antiques one could hold
Nor bank accounts which bankers made
.
They were the treasures of her mind
Memories she kept to share some day
Stored in little diaries she would bind
To help us read and find our way
.
Through this maze we call our lives
Where faith and love are hard to find
Where husbands leave their caring wives
Wives have changed their tone of mind
.
Where children leave parents for money
Where mammon has the field to play
Where words said are coated with honey
Where to hear them we have to pay
.
Pay with the sacrifice of our love
Pay with sacrifice or all our peace
Pay by raising our hands to him above
To save us from them who fleece
.
No-my Aunt left us the meaning of “Love”
And the meaning of the word “Care”
She left for us her memories glove
To shield us always - every where
.
And remind us of the battles fought
To keep us sheltered from any harm
And in harms net we were never caught
Because of her steady caring arm
.
She left us the treasure of eternal joy
In the small things found in this world
The little girls skip or the prance of a boy
The sound of laughter into the wind hurled
.
She left us a vision of brotherhood
Of a paradise of winged angel’s song
Of dancing as much as we ever could
Of a shining future with music all along
.
That was how best my aunt can I describe
And the precious gifts she left for us all
Treasures with which us she would bribe
To always keep our footsteps in truth’s Hall !
.
Deepak Menon
Dehradun, India, 20th April 2006
PS :- Your letter sent to me was :-
Date: Thu, 20 Apr 2006 01:45:16 -0000
Subject: [poetrywriters] Finding my long lost poem
"My Aunt she died a month ago,
Subject: [poetrywriters] Finding my long lost poem
"My Aunt she died a month ago,
And left me all her riches,......
Can any one complete it or point me to
the right author, book or URL
thanks
WOULD I BE THE SONG OR THE MUSIC? A poem I wrote ...
WOULD I BE THE SONG OR THE MUSIC?
Were I - the song sung by my love
I would soar to the skies all alone
Were I - the music played by my love
The world would kneel before my throne
But were I - both the music and the song
I would be sung by the forest leaves
And the wind would whistle all along
When my love passed under the eaves
I THINK I WOULD BE A MUSICAL BALLAD TO LOVE!
Deepak Menon
20th April 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
S E P
This is an Excerpt from Douglas Adams Book ...........
"I think," said Ford in a tone of voice which Arthur by now
recognized as one which presaged something utterly unintelligible,
"that there's an SEP over there."
He pointed.
Curiously enough, the direction he pointed in was not the one in which
he was looking. Arthur looked in the one direction, which was towards
the sight-screens, and in the other which was at the field of play.
He nodded,
he shrugged. He shrugged again.
"A what?" he said.
"An SEP."
"An S ...?"
"... EP."
"And what's that?"
"Somebody Else's Problem."
"Ah, good," said Arthur and relaxed. He had no idea what all
that was about, but at least it seemed to be over. It wasn't.
"Over there," said Ford, again pointing at the sight-screens
and looking at the pitch.
"Where?" said Arthur.
"There!" said Ford.
"I see," said Arthur, who didn't.
"You do?" said Ford.
"What?" said Arthur.
"Can you see," said Ford patiently, "the SEP?"
"I thought you said that was somebody else's problem."
"That's right."
Arthur nodded slowly, carefully and with an air of immense
stupidity.
"And I want to know," said Ford, "if you can see it."
"You do?"
"Yes."
"What," said Arthur, "does it look like?"
"Well, how should I know, you fool?" shouted Ford. "If you can
see it, you tell me."
Arthur experienced that dull throbbing sensation just behind
the temples which was a hallmark of so many of his
conversations with Ford! His brain lurked like a frightened puppy
in its kennel. Ford took him by the arm.
"An SEP," he said, "is something that we can't see, or don't see,
or our brain doesn't let us see, because we think that it's somebody
else's problem. That's what SEP means. Somebody Else's Problem. T
he brain just edits it out, it's like a blind spot. If you look at it directly
you won't see it unless you know precisely what it is. Your only hope
"I think," said Ford in a tone of voice which Arthur by now
recognized as one which presaged something utterly unintelligible,
"that there's an SEP over there."
He pointed.
Curiously enough, the direction he pointed in was not the one in which
he was looking. Arthur looked in the one direction, which was towards
the sight-screens, and in the other which was at the field of play.
He nodded,
he shrugged. He shrugged again.
"A what?" he said.
"An SEP."
"An S ...?"
"... EP."
"And what's that?"
"Somebody Else's Problem."
"Ah, good," said Arthur and relaxed. He had no idea what all
that was about, but at least it seemed to be over. It wasn't.
"Over there," said Ford, again pointing at the sight-screens
and looking at the pitch.
"Where?" said Arthur.
"There!" said Ford.
"I see," said Arthur, who didn't.
"You do?" said Ford.
"What?" said Arthur.
"Can you see," said Ford patiently, "the SEP?"
"I thought you said that was somebody else's problem."
"That's right."
Arthur nodded slowly, carefully and with an air of immense
stupidity.
"And I want to know," said Ford, "if you can see it."
"You do?"
"Yes."
"What," said Arthur, "does it look like?"
"Well, how should I know, you fool?" shouted Ford. "If you can
see it, you tell me."
Arthur experienced that dull throbbing sensation just behind
the temples which was a hallmark of so many of his
conversations with Ford! His brain lurked like a frightened puppy
in its kennel. Ford took him by the arm.
"An SEP," he said, "is something that we can't see, or don't see,
or our brain doesn't let us see, because we think that it's somebody
else's problem. That's what SEP means. Somebody Else's Problem. T
he brain just edits it out, it's like a blind spot. If you look at it directly
you won't see it unless you know precisely what it is. Your only hope
is to catch it by surprise out of the corner of your eye."
"Ah," said Arthur, "then that's why ..."
"Yes," said Ford, who knew what Arthur was going to say.
"... you've been jumping up and ..."
"Yes."
"... down, and blinking ..."
"Yes."
"... and ..."
"I think you've got the message."
"I can see it," said Arthur, "it's a spaceship."
From Life, the Universe, and Everything by Douglas Adams
"Ah," said Arthur, "then that's why ..."
"Yes," said Ford, who knew what Arthur was going to say.
"... you've been jumping up and ..."
"Yes."
"... down, and blinking ..."
"Yes."
"... and ..."
"I think you've got the message."
"I can see it," said Arthur, "it's a spaceship."
From Life, the Universe, and Everything by Douglas Adams
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
I posted this poem long ago on the great site of Lucius Furius
The City
by Deepak Menon
.
Mud splatters my bare feet
Stars shine in darkened skies
As I walk to where we used to meet
The night echoes some waif's cries.
.
I see the pavements lumpy with logs
Huddled against the cold night chill
Humanity interspersed with dogs
Carrion awaiting vultures' will
.
The stench of decay fills my soul
Like tangible shadows invading me
Questions whirl; I approach my goal
The now solitary Tamarind Tree
.
Dim memories of a long forgotten grove
Of verdant sunlit waving leaves
Fleet through my mind; my eyes rove
For the spot, which still its magic weaves
.
My feet softly caress the hallowed soil
As they have done these many years
Then must I return to again toil
To forget your memory through tears
.
And become one with the City for another night
And live with the City through another day
The City where my kin are common sight
The City that gives and then takes away.
.
Copyright © Deepak Menon ("The City" is part
Copyright © Deepak Menon ("The City" is part
of a collection of poems from my third volume
of poetry entitled "A Lingering Fragrance....".
"The City" was first published on my (now defunct)
Tamam Shudh: Poems of Passion website.
Also posted on the site of Lucious
Thursday, April 13, 2006
A painting of an African Woman by Deepak Menon
Nothing in life is easy
and painting this wonderful woman
was certainly not easy
Thursday, April 06, 2006
A poem I wrote spontaneously for the birthday of the child of an unknown person I met on the net in a chat room
Richard of Eternal Love
A lion was born one day long ago
Sent to this earth as a gift long ago
A gift of the God's to teach all the world
All about bravery whose flag he unfurled
When stepped he on earth he felt unafraid
For no reason had he - of love was he made
His eyes were bright with all of life's joys
His world was filled with enchanted toys
His skin was like ivory - soft and white
His face was a beacon of silvery light
His heart was of gold warm and aglow
His mind was a fount of wisdom's flow
This little creature so precious and true
Was the magnet to which all hearts flew
And little Richard - That was his name
Was born under a star - the star of fame.
Destined is he to fly to the far away stars
And he shall be - garlanded with flowers
And the entire world shall his praises sing
For he is Richard - of hearts - the King.
With love
For your birthday
Deepak
12.12.98
A lion was born one day long ago
Sent to this earth as a gift long ago
A gift of the God's to teach all the world
All about bravery whose flag he unfurled
When stepped he on earth he felt unafraid
For no reason had he - of love was he made
His eyes were bright with all of life's joys
His world was filled with enchanted toys
His skin was like ivory - soft and white
His face was a beacon of silvery light
His heart was of gold warm and aglow
His mind was a fount of wisdom's flow
This little creature so precious and true
Was the magnet to which all hearts flew
And little Richard - That was his name
Was born under a star - the star of fame.
Destined is he to fly to the far away stars
And he shall be - garlanded with flowers
And the entire world shall his praises sing
For he is Richard - of hearts - the King.
With love
For your birthday
Deepak
12.12.98
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Tempest Over a Cold Land - A painting by Deepak Menon
When there are the fiery winds of war or loveSome remain unaffected like the placid dove
Some rage and churn out emotion
And sleep through the commotion
Like the Icy Coldness of Snow Covered land .....
But even in the cold desolation
There remains a spark of elation
And a house is built - a house of love
Like the little house we see above
And always there will be Lady Hope's hand......
MY FORLORN DANCE - A poem by Deepak Menon
Unfold thy wraps, O Future misty
And let me peer into thine heart
And let me know why you retreated
Into nothingness like some faded art
.
You were bright and glorious once
Beckoning me with the brightest smile
You frolicked and danced before my eyes
Luring me onwards all the while
.
And just when I thought I had you
Within my grasp, you faded
Into the dense and thickening fog
Leaving me trembling and jaded
.
I screamed, ran around in circles
Reaching out, pleading and protesting
Through clenched teeth and flowing tears
Calling you back without resting
.
But you, like a fickle love grown Bored
Vanished without a backward glance
Taking my life with you in your arms
Leaving me alone to my forlorn dance
.
Deepak Menon
And let me peer into thine heart
And let me know why you retreated
Into nothingness like some faded art
.
You were bright and glorious once
Beckoning me with the brightest smile
You frolicked and danced before my eyes
Luring me onwards all the while
.
And just when I thought I had you
Within my grasp, you faded
Into the dense and thickening fog
Leaving me trembling and jaded
.
I screamed, ran around in circles
Reaching out, pleading and protesting
Through clenched teeth and flowing tears
Calling you back without resting
.
But you, like a fickle love grown Bored
Vanished without a backward glance
Taking my life with you in your arms
Leaving me alone to my forlorn dance
.
Deepak Menon
Beweeping the state of things to come - A Sonnet by Deepak Menon
Beweeping the state of things to come when day ends
In stupor when I do lie in fulsome emptiness profound
With mind and restless soul draped in sorrows liniments
Watching the movements complete the inevitable round
And comes into the emptiness a hint of a whisper of voice
Deftly, gently, intruding like a needle into sanguine flesh
Demanding, insistent, opening new avenues of choice
A singing of angel's whispers appearing this stone to bless
And hope awakens to lift sorrow's cloak a little while
And flickers in the darkness some mysterious light
And invisibly a wispy manifestation of innocent guile
Opens little windows of sunshine tantalisingly bright
Then does soar into the firmament on gossamer wings
My awakened soul seeking anew the mystery of things
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Green Glory in the demoninloves garden ?
Green Glory - Growing in my Garden
Can you guess what it is?
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
HILLTOP PAVILLION - A painting by Deepak Menon
T'is the place !!!!!
And a song I just composed sung
to the tune of "Home,Home on the Range"
which every one should know!
"Home Home on the heights"
Oh! Give me a home
Where the flowers will bloom
And the air is so balmy and light
That I would not exchange
That Pavillion of Change
For all of the cities so bright
Home Home on the heights
With the eagles are in full flight
With the eagles are in full flight
Where seldom is heard
A discouraging word
And the songs of love are in flight
.
I would not forego
The soothing winds blow
For all of the plains great might
So give me a home
Where the bees always roam
And the stars are always so bright
Home Home on the heights
With the eagles are in full flight
Where seldom is heard
A discouraging word
And the songs of love are in flight
Where seldom is heard
A discouraging word
And the songs of love are in flight
.
I would not exchange
That Pavillion of Change
For all of the cities so bright
That Pavillion of Change
For all of the cities so bright
So Build it on the hill
Where songs of faries trill
And life is just one great thrill
Home Home on the heights
Where the birds with grass hoppers play
Where seldom is heard
A discouraging word
And the night is full of loves rays
Where the birds with grass hoppers play
Where seldom is heard
A discouraging word
And the night is full of loves rays
.....Deepak Menon
(13th March 2006)
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Beautiful Truth - A picture of two wonderful little souls
THIS PICTURE WAS SENT TO ME AS AN
EMAIL BY A FRIEND AND IT HAS A HINDI
WORD IN IT. THE WORD IS "SACHEE" -
WHICH MEANS "REALLY!"
The love of a child in its innocence, is the love of beauty
transcending the lessons of beauty and love our
world teaches and tries to instill in us .
Love is incomparable and it
sees the beauty of
the soul
in us.
Friday, March 10, 2006
A verse from "The Lingering Fragrance" Short Story by Deepak Menon
Strange, that you stand here alone and cry
.
Though your battle is won and lifeless I lie!
.
Strange, why you do not rejoice at your triumph!
.
Is it at Victories Door, - you saw a dream die?
.
Though your battle is won and lifeless I lie!
.
Strange, why you do not rejoice at your triumph!
.
Is it at Victories Door, - you saw a dream die?
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Jealousy - Thoughts by Deepak Menon
11. JEALOUSY
.
11.1 Beware of jealousy. It will reduce the strongest mind to
imbecility. It will reduce the strongest body to a bag of bones.
And it will burn out all emotions forever.
imbecility. It will reduce the strongest body to a bag of bones.
And it will burn out all emotions forever.
.
11.2 The jealous are like the clouds passing on overhead.
11.2 The jealous are like the clouds passing on overhead.
One is never sure when one or the other will pour.
.
11.3 Behold the great Oracle. He can tell you every thing that
will happen in the future - except the actions of one afflicted
11.3 Behold the great Oracle. He can tell you every thing that
will happen in the future - except the actions of one afflicted
with jealousy.
And thats that!!
And thats that!!
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