Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Languages used in Carnatic Music & Literature
venkatakailasam
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#26 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 04 Apr 2014, 20:04

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venkatakailasam
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#27 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 21 May 2014, 20:59

The forsaken merman Mathew Arnold is a poem I read at my Intermediate..in 1950...
After nearly 65 years I stumbled on it..:

The Forsaken Merman
By Matthew Arnold

Come, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below!
Now my brothers call from the bay,
Now the great winds shoreward blow,
Now the salt tides seaward flow;
Now the wild white horses play,
Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
Children dear, let us away!
This way, this way!

Call her once before you go—
Call once yet!
In a voice that she will know:
"Margaret! Margaret!"
Children's voices should be dear
(Call once more) to a mother's ear;

Children's voices, wild with pain—
Surely she will come again!
Call her once and come away;
This way, this way!
"Mother dear, we cannot stay!
The wild white horses foam and fret."
Margaret! Margaret!

Come, dear children, come away down;
Call no more!
One last look at the white-wall'd town
And the little grey church on the windy shore,
Then come down!
She will not come though you call all day;
Come away, come away!

Children dear, was it yesterday
We heard the sweet bells over the bay?
In the caverns where we lay,
Through the surf and through the swell,
The far-off sound of a silver bell?
Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,
Where the winds are all asleep;
Where the spent lights quiver and gleam,
Where the salt weed sways in the stream,
Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round,
Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground;
Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,
Dry their mail and bask in the brine;
Where great whales come sailing by,
Sail and sail, with unshut eye,
Round the world for ever and aye?
When did music come this way?
Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, was it yesterday
(Call yet once) that she went away?
Once she sate with you and me,
On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea,
And the youngest sate on her knee.
She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well,
When down swung the sound of a far-off bell.
She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea;
She said: "I must go, to my kinsfolk pray
In the little grey church on the shore to-day.
'T will be Easter-time in the world—ah me!
And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee."
I said: "Go up, dear heart, through the waves;
Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves!"
She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.
Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, were we long alone?
"The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan;
Long prayers," I said, "in the world they say;
Come!" I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay.
We went up the beach, by the sandy down
Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town;
Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still,
To the little grey church on the windy hill.
From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers,
But we stood without in the cold blowing airs.
We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,
And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.
She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear:
"Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here!
Dear heart," I said, "we are long alone;
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan."
But, ah, she gave me never a look,
For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book!
Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.
Come away, children, call no more!
Come away, come down, call no more!

Down, down, down!
Down to the depths of the sea!
She sits at her wheel in the humming town,
Singing most joyfully.
Hark what she sings: "O joy, O joy,
For the humming street, and the child with its toy!
For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well;
For the wheel where I spun,
And the blessed light of the sun!"
And so she sings her fill,
Singing most joyfully,
Till the spindle drops from her hand,
And the whizzing wheel stands still.
She steals to the window, and looks at the sand,
And over the sand at the sea;
And her eyes are set in a stare;
And anon there breaks a sigh,
And anon there drops a tear,
From a sorrow-clouded eye,
And a heart sorrow-laden,
A long, long sigh;
For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden
And the gleam of her golden hair.

Come away, away children
Come children, come down!
The hoarse wind blows coldly;
Lights shine in the town.
She will start from her slumber
When gusts shake the door;
She will hear the winds howling,
Will hear the waves roar.
We shall see, while above us
The waves roar and whirl,
A ceiling of amber,
A pavement of pearl.
Singing: "Here came a mortal,
But faithless was she!
And alone dwell for ever
The kings of the sea."

But, children, at midnight,
When soft the winds blow,
When clear falls the moonlight,
When spring-tides are low;
When sweet airs come seaward
From heaths starr'd with broom,
And high rocks throw mildly
On the blanch'd sands a gloom;
Up the still, glistening beaches,
Up the creeks we will hie,
Over banks of bright seaweed
The ebb-tide leaves dry.
We will gaze, from the sand-hills,
At the white, sleeping town;
At the church on the hill-side—
And then come back down.
Singing: "There dwells a loved one,
But cruel is she!
She left lonely for ever
The kings of the sea."
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venkatakailasam
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#28 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 22 Jul 2014, 14:22

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Sitting at the meadows….on a summer day
With Flashing thoughts in the mind..
And looking at the sky…
Oh! What a contrast is it to buy...!
The bluish sky..
The whitish floating clouds..
The pinkish swaying flowers……
And, the greenish meadow…
Who can be the painter…I thought…
To bring the picture live…..
Was He not a divine painter…?

The genteel breeze…
The ringing melody..
The Painter’s skill……
The thoughts within….
are all part of His will…..
The sublime knowledge of music…
Emancipation through music…
Comprehending that the whole cosmos
Is the manifestation of the Supreme Self…..

Filling the heart with thoughts of love….
And not the miserable state where we are
driven here from that other serene life!
Where we had solace …….
From where we have descended…here!
venkat k
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venkatakailasam
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#29 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 03 Aug 2014, 14:28

FRIENDSHIP
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

This beautiful poem is dedicated to all my friends who have made me feel special....

Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving
Thy strong regard for me,
Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving;
Let thy faith speak for thee.

Swear not to me that nothing can divide us--
So little such oaths mean.
But when distrust and envy creep beside us,
Let them not come between.

Say not to me the depths of thy devotion
Are deeper than the sea;
But watch, lest doubt or some unkind emotion
Embitter them for me.

Vow not to love me ever and for ever--
Words are such idle things;
But when we differ in opinions, never
Hurt me by little stings.

I'm sick of words: they are so lightly spoken,
And spoken, are but air.
I'd rather feel thy trust in me unbroken
Than list thy words so fair.

If all the little proofs of trust are heeded,
If thou art always kind,
No sacrifice, no promise will be needed
To satisfy my mind.
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venkatakailasam
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#30 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 14 Aug 2014, 15:58

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
By 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 a 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 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 that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
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venkatakailasam
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#31 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 10 Sep 2014, 18:13

The Boy Who Couldn't Read

by Kurt Campbell...

The teacher who cared and understood......

Kurt Campbell believes in second chances — and a certain grade school teacher who made all the difference. For him, the hurt and the hope came in fourth grade. "School was a complete struggle for me. Learning was hard. My teachers and my parents tried everything but it just wasn't clicking. I was tested for dyslexia. I had a terrible self image. By the end of my fourth grade year, I couldn't spell or read."
Things didn't get any easier that summer. The Campbells moved from their home in Everett, Washington, to the town of Edmonds. That fall Kurt's mom and dad enrolled him in a new school, King's Elementary, where he would repeat fourth grade. "I know my parents ached inside. Even though they had faith I would make it, I knew they felt frustrated. I wasn't nervous about going to a new school, but I was terribly distraught about taking fourth grade over. It was a sign of not being intelligent. I felt very insecure and afraid. Fortunately, I wasn't at my old school, so none of the kids would know I had been held back."
His new teacher, Mrs. Hornall, knew. She had read Kurt's file. She knew what was at stake. On the first day of school she greeted Kurt at the door. She made him and each of her other 13 students feel welcome. "She seemed very stern and in control," he recalled. "Very quickly, she reminded me of my grandmother, who truly loved and cared for me. Mrs. Hornall was the same way. Since our class was small, she worked with each of us individually. You could go to her desk and ask her about a specific problem. And she would come to your desk."
With Kurt, she did something more. She began to work with him, talk with him, spend concentrated individual time with him, inviting him to sound out consonant blends and words he never knew existed. Kurt worked with a tutor who helped him see how words fit into sentences and how sentences became paragraphs, and stories filled with new meaning.
Over the next few weeks and months, things began to change. By the end of the year, Kurt was on the verge of something big. It happened at home, one night. "I had a Hardy Boys book, and I was reading the whole thing. It took me four straight evenings. When I got to the end, I ran down the hall, yelling to my mom and dad, 'I did it! I did it!'
"Mrs. Hornall made the difference. She was one of those amazing teachers who took the time, gave me personalized attention and never once made me feel inadequate with my other classmates. When I learned to read, everything became much easier. I began to do math story problems and understand geography books. Being able to read made life so much more enjoyable," said Kurt, who by the end of the fourth grade was reading at a fifth-grade level. The next year, he was reading eighth-grade material. Today, he is a successful businessman, one of four principal owners of Campbell Nelson Volkswagen Nissan, his family's auto dealership in Edmonds, Washington.
The significance of learning to read, and the teacher who made it possible, remains strong, more than 30 years later. "When I'm hiring new employees, I'm not only looking for a certain skill set, I'm looking for people who can see the big picture, who can work in harmony as part of our dealership team, who have compassion for others and a willingness to see beyond themselves."
Just like a certain fourth-grade teacher did when she forever shaped the future of a ten-year-old boy.

http://www.ccel.us/alifewelllived.ch6.html
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venkatakailasam
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#32 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 02 Oct 2014, 06:48

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venkatakailasam
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#33 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 08 Nov 2014, 18:04

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One more record broken!!

Sachin’s ‘Playing It My Way’ breaks multiple records


Tendulkar’s book broke the record set by Steve Jobs’ biography by Walter Isaacson, which had sold 130,000 copies.

Even here he plays for record.!!!!!


http://www.thehindu.com/sport/cricket/s ... 577497.ece
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venkatakailasam
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#34 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 22 Nov 2014, 19:59

( pg. 425 of Volume 1 of the Autobiography of Mark Twain.)

AMAZING :

Mark Twain relates an anecdote about the remarkable Helen Keller:

Mark Twain met the fourteen-year-old Helen Keller at a friend's home where 12-15 people had been invited...
"The guests were brought one after another and introduced to her. As she shook hands with each she took her hand away and laid her fingers lightly against Miss Sullivan's lips, who spoke against them the person's name. When a name was difficult, Miss Sullivan not only spoke it against Helen's fingers but spelled it upon Helen's hand with her own fingers - steno-graphically, apparently for the swiftness of the operation was suggestive of that...
After a couple of hours spent very pleasantly, some one asked if Helen would remember the feel of the hands of the company after this considerable interval of time, and be able to discriminate the hands and name the possessors of them.
Miss Sullivan said "Oh she will have no difficulty about that." So the company filed past, shook hands in turn, and with each handshake Helen greeted the owner of the hand pleasantly and spoke the name that belonged to it without hesitation..."
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Pratyaksham Bala
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#35 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by Pratyaksham Bala » 22 Nov 2014, 20:30

Thank you!
Really amazing!

Helen Keller speaks out:-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ch_H8pt9M8
How she learnt to speak:-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdTUSignq7Y
A documentary:-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZPSa4xSO4g
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venkatakailasam
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#36 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 24 Nov 2014, 19:29

Thank ShriPB..

Are writers poor...??

10 Famous Writers’ Houses Worth Visiting...

http://mentalfloss.com/article/60124/10 ... h-visiting
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venkatakailasam
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#37 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 27 Nov 2014, 20:51

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER
In the course of a certain battle a soldier whose leg had been shot off appealed to another soldier who was hurrying by to carry him to the rear, informing him at the same time of the loss which he had sustained; whereupon the generous son of Mars, shouldering the unfortunate, proceeded to carry out his desire. The bullets and cannon-balls were flying in all directions, and presently one of the latter took the wounded man's head off--without, however, his deliverer being aware of it. In no-long time he was hailed by an officer, who said:
"Where are you going with that carcass?"
"To the rear, sir--he's lost his leg!"
"His leg, forsooth?" responded the astonished officer; "you mean his head, you booby."
Whereupon the soldier rid himself of his burden, and stood looking down upon it in great perplexity. At length he said:
"It is true, sir, just as you have said." Then after a pause he added, "But he TOLD me IT WAS HIS LEG! ! ! ! !"
(From Mark Twain's 'How to tell a story')

More stores at:

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3250/3250-h/3250-h.htm
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venkatakailasam
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#38 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 30 Nov 2014, 18:13

The Story That Will Never Be an e-Book
Gadsby by Ernest Vincent Wright

Would you believe it? This 50000 word novel has been written without the letter 'E' - Even abbreviations the most common of all, “Mr.” and “Mrs.”

( which, if read aloud, plainly indicate the E in their orthography) have not been used and so also articles like 'the', pronouns like 'he' 'she', 'themselves' etc. have not been used.It has been called spineless as one of the vowels, the very spine of English has been left out!

A tough ask, that !

Unfortunately, The writers name is not bereft of the 'E'
It has been authored by Ernest Vincent Wright.

Incidentally, a work of writing that deliberately excludes particular letters is called a lipogram.....

The first among the ten...

http://mentalfloss.com/article/26601/10 ... hard-write
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venkatakailasam
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#39 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 09 Dec 2014, 19:04

TO BE OR NOT TO BE!!

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venkatakailasam
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#40 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 17 Dec 2014, 08:34

Some deem I'm gentle, some I'm kind:
It may be so,--I cannot say.
I know I have a simple mind
And see things in a simple way;
And like a child I love to play.
Second Childhood..

I love to toy with pretty words
And syllable them into rhyme;
To make them sing like sunny birds
In happy droves with silver chime,
In dulcet groves in summer time.

I pray, with hair more white than grey,
And second childhood coming on,
That yet with wonderment I may
See life as in its lucent dawn,
And be by beauty so beguiled
I'll sing as sings a child.

by Robert William Service
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venkatakailasam
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#41 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 22 Dec 2014, 07:22

Every great achievement was once impossible until someone set a goal to make it a reality.
Lewis Carroll's famous masterpiece "Through the Looking Glass" contains a story that exemplifies the need to dream the impossible dream.
There is a conversation between Alice and the queen:
"I can't believe that!" said Alice.
"Can't you?" the queen said in a pitying tone. "Try again, draw a long breath, and shut your eyes."
Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said. "One can't believe impossible things."
"I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the queen.
"When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

When you dare to dream, many marvels can be accomplished.
The trouble is, most people never start dreaming their impossible dream.

Read "Through the Looking Glass" here,if you like...


http://www.gutenberg.org/files/12/12-h/12-h.htm
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venkatakailasam
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#42 Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam » 01 Jul 2015, 18:50

Paying too much for the whistle - By Benjamin Frankilin

When I was a child of seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and being charmed with the sound of a _whistle_, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my _whistle_, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth; put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the _whistle_gave me pleasure.
This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, _Don't give too much for the whistle_; and I saved my money.
As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, _who gave too much for the whistle_.
When I saw one too ambitious of court favor, sacrificing his time in
attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, _This man gives too much for his whistle_.
When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect, _He pays, indeed_, said I, _too much for his whistle_.
If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, _Poor man_, said I, _you pay too much for your whistle_.
When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable
improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal
sensations, and ruining his health in their pursuit, _Mistaken man_,said I, _you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give too much for your whistle_.
If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, fine
furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, _Alas!_ say I, _he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle_.
When I see a beautiful sweet-tempered girl married to an ill-natured brute of a husband, _What a pity_, say I, _that she should pay so much for a whistle_!

In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are
brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value of things, and by their _giving too much for their whistles_.
Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I consider that, with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certain things in the world so tempting, for example, the apples of King John,which happily are not to be bought; for if they were put to sale by auction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase, and find that I had once more given too much for the _whistle_.
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