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?

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?

.

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.

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!

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

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

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

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,

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 :-

poetrywriters@yahoogroups.com
From: "p_and_q"

Date: Thu, 20 Apr 2006 01:45:16 -0000
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

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

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

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

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

http://www.serve.com/Lucius/PLG.post1950.index.html

http://www.serve.com/Lucius/PLG.post1950.index.html

A painting of an African Woman by Deepak Menon

Nothing in life is easy

and painting this wonderful woman

was certainly not easy

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

Tempest Over a Cold Land - A painting by Deepak Menon

When there are the fiery winds of war or love

Some 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

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