Monday, May 15, 2006

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

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"

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.

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?
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?
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.
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
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
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 :-
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

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
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

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
of a collection of poems from my third volume
of poetry entitled "A Lingering Fragrance....".
"The City" was first published on my (now defunct)
Also posted on the site of Lucious

Thursday, April 13, 2006

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

Saturday, April 01, 2006

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

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Saturday, March 18, 2006