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

'Daffodils' by William Wordsworth

'Daffodils'
William Wordsworth

.
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

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

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

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

.
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,

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

.

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!

.

*******

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?

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

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"

Sailing over the Turquoise Sea - A painting by Deepak Menon

The days of the great sailing ships are over

but memories of their glory live on ....

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"

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.

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?

And where lives the Gardener, to whom I must pay?