Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Languages used in Carnatic Music & Literature
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venkatakailasam
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Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari: A Fable About Fulfilling Your Dreams & Reaching Your Destiny
by Robin S. Sharma ..

Wisdom to Create a Life of Passion, Purpose, and Peace..
This inspiring tale provides a step-by-step approach to living with greater courage, balance, abundance, and joy. A wonderfully crafted fable, The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari tells the extraordinary story of Julian Mantle, a lawyer forced to confront the spiritual crisis of his out-of-balance life. On a life-changing odyssey to an ancient culture, he discovers powerful, wise, and practical lessons that teach us to:

Develop Joyful Thoughts,

Follow Our Life's Mission and Calling,
Cultivate Self-Discipline and Act Courageously,
Value Time as Our Most Important Commodity,
Nourish Our Relationships, and
Live Fully, One Day at a Time...

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4387 ... is_Ferrari
Last edited by venkatakailasam on 02 Dec 2013, 17:54, edited 1 time in total.

venkatakailasam
Posts: 4170
Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

WORLDLY WISDOM
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
( wisdom for her has led to loss of her incautious trust in men and their motives, which she so innocently had in her youth and which she'd want to have back if given a choice)

If it were in my dead Past's power
To let my Present bask
In some lost pleasure for an hour,
This is the boon I'd ask:

Re-pedestal from out the dust
Where long ago 'twas hurled,
My beautiful incautious trust
In this unworthy world.

The symbol of my own soul's truth--
I saw it go with tears--
The sweet unwisdom of my youth--
That vanished with the years.

Since knowledge brings us only grief,
I would return again
To happy ignorance and belief
In motives and in men.

For worldly wisdom learned in pain
Is in itself a cross,
Significant mayhap of gain,
Yet sign of saddest loss.

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Don’t Quit

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow–
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up,
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out–
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far,
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit–
It’s when things seem worst that you mustn’t quit.

- Author unknown

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

"Always continue the 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."

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

[Short Story] The Egg - By Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty. “Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.” You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.” “So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.” “Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back. “I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

THE WORD
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(Beautifully 'WORD'ED)
Oh, a word is a gem, or a stone, or a song,
Or a flame, or a two-edged sword;
Or a rose in bloom, or a sweet perfume,
Or a drop of gall, is a word.

You may choose your word like a connoisseur,
And polish it up with art,
But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays,
Is the word that comes from the heart.

You may work on your word a thousand weeks,
But it will not glow like one
That all unsought, leaps forth white hot,
When the fountains of feeling run.

You may hammer away on the anvil of thought,
And fashion your word with care,
But unless you are stirred to the depths, that word
Shall die on the empty air.

For the word that comes from the brain alone,
Alone to the brain will speed;
But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays,
Oh! that is the word men heed.

bagyamananthu41
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Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by bagyamananthu41 »

Ella Wheeler Wilcox (November 5, 1850 – October 30, 1919) was an American author and poet. Her best-known work was Poems of Passion.

Her most enduring work was "Solitude", which contains the lines: "Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone".

Her autobiography, The Worlds and I, was published in 1918, a year before her death.

Solitude

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

my composition..

Path is not always what it looks from out side..
Expect not flowery petals all along the way
There will be thorny bushes on the way
And also, wild animals to encounter…
And scornful looks alaround
There may be tearful partings..
Wisdom may require painful learning..
Smiles and sighs are part of this learning
Do not falter …keep going
Even though for a crippled one,
Like me...
Path is not his choice
Sai will choose
venkat k

Image from FB friend

venkatakailasam
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Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

You are my first love..
None else to love me,
I am sick and also crippled..
No concept left with me now..

With my thoughts weried and incohesive’
The better of my thinking left me to be alone
Confused and sad and
None to hold my hand

And crying with in myself …
This is the time I need you most
To be by my side …
Oh! my beloved Music
venkat k

Image

venkatakailasam
Posts: 4170
Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

What is it that she is listening…
I am here…your brother! Will always be by your side
Not allowing you to feel lonely
And an assurance that she will be loved always
And will never allow tears to roll down from her eyes..
Will fill her life like warmth as on a winter day.
Make your thoughts to bloom in to a flowery garden
With butterflies fluttering high…….
venkat k

Image courtesy FROM A FRIEND Shri Baskaran Sivaraman at FB

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

A Book

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!

by Emily Dickinson

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

All You Who Sleep Tonight

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years.
by Vikram Seth

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

A poem by William Blake.

Laughing Song

When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;

When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,
When Mary and Susan and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing 'Ha, ha he!'

When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:
Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of 'Ha, ha, he!'

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

An elderly couple well above eighties
A bit away from the place
Where the buses stop
Seen sitting on the pavement..
Sharing a bun bought from a nearby tea shop..
It was not equally cut…the bigger slice was given to the
Husband while the smaller one retained by her…
No! Exclaimed the man and thrust the bigger one to her..
A passerby gave them a few chips
It was their earning now!
They moved nearer to the tea shop
And took another one along with a cup of tea…
What struck me most was their intimacy
And their eagerness to share more for the other..
Their abode what I found was the stone wall nearby…
They hold nothing beyond that..discarded by their only son
And his cruel wife…
Driven them out snatching all their belongings…..
They now have only this stone wall where once could have been a heart..
And a tearful tale to tell…
They have a mountain stream nearby
where they can have their wash
My mind wandered as to what they would do on a
Winter night and a rainy day…..
Called to be with me in the outhouse nearby..
No! ..Happy to be as we are now…
Happy in things that we do!
We mean no disrespect…
We share the happiness that no one can snatch…

With a heart as heavy as the stone behind them I returned !!
Thinking that it was life's contentment!!
venkat K

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

Four kids have four bags..
What they carry are not the same….
Bags full of books with smiles filling their cheeks..
Hurrying to the school burying the tender feelings at home
To become a learned man of to morrow..

Gunny bag on the shoulder and a stick on the hand
To drive away the barking dogs..
A wanderer in the street..in the street after street…
Make a living by collecting, sorting
And selling things that someone no longer needs…

Harassment and social stigma are part of their life
Never wanted to be a garbage picker…
None to help and none to know…...
As to why he is a garbage picker….
venkat k

Image courtesy...FB friend.

vgovindan
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Rag Pickers

Post by vgovindan »

Venkatakailasam,
Today there is a news that Mr X of Co Y has donated Rs. 225 crores for Institution Z. If he donates Rs. 225 crores, his personal wealth should be worth at least 10 times. How an individual could earn in a lifetime even 1000 crores. You may answer that he earned in the right method - he has paid all taxes. The share price Co Y jumped from Rs. 10/- to Rs. 10000/- - you may say. But whose money is that Rs. 9990/-? Where from this money came? Now you know to whom the money rightly belongs to - the rag pickers. How legitimate is legitimacy - no one knows the answer. Even if they know, they will not concede because we are all part of the system which favours illegitimacy in the name legitimate earning.
Last edited by vgovindan on 01 Feb 2014, 17:06, edited 1 time in total.

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Shri govindan...I agree...

I heard a story..
There were three sons..
A test was conducted as to who is the most intelligent one..
The test was …each one was given Rs.100/ and the best will be the one who fills the room…
The first and second could not fill the room..
The third one purchased a candle for Rs 1/ and lighted it..The whole room was bright with the light…
Naturally, he was declared the best..
Now the question is as to what happened to the balance of Rs 99/..
Where it has gone..??
We are facing such a thing in our country..Is it not true??
Things are bright on paper records...
Welfare measures do not reach the needy…like a rag picker..

sad..yes! I feel sad

whether I will be able to see our country industrialized and free from corruption in my life time is a ?? mark

Only an impotent anger fills my heart ...

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image


I cannot avoid seeing..
As it is a reality of life

Not like the reality shows seen
With blistering lights around
Men and women joining together
With charming ethnic attire
And loud laughs and lavish smiles..

Poor are they…there is none to support
Except the sticks they hold
Wearing only a Gandhian attire
No shelter to live …no food to share
No pizzas to eat or cokes to drink
No smile on their grim faces
For they live in a merciless society
Injustice done keeping them Refugees
From their birth to death…

I cannot avoid seeing..them walking
Walking through their life
As it is a reality of life….
venkat k

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Hope is the Thing with Feathers

"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea,
Yet never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

By: Emily Dickinson

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

Behind Me -- dips Eternity --
Before Me -- Immortality --
Myself -- the Term between --
Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,
Dissolving into Dawn away,
Before the West begin --

'Tis Kingdoms -- afterward -- they say --
In perfect -- pauseless Monarchy --
Whose Prince -- is Son of None --
Himself -- His Dateless Dynasty --
Himself -- Himself diversify --
In Duplicate divine --

'Tis Miracle before Me -- then --
'Tis Miracle behind -- between --
A Crescent in the Sea --
With Midnight to the North of Her --
And Midnight to the South of Her --
And Maelstrom -- in the Sky --

By: Emily Dickinson

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

It can draw tears! Yes! Tears!
A CHILD INNOCENT AND PLAYFUL
having pleasure to be with nature
Father falling short of understanding the child psychology
Nor the potential of his sibling!
Can only inflict pricks that can hurt!
A brother full of affection for the kid!
Mother struggling between the loves for the kid
and her agony...
at the behavior of the sibling’s father!
Not to tell the teachers never failing to mock at the child!
The child feeling that his family moving away from him!!
In contrast a man with a smiling tenure showering
Love and affection and helping to bring out the potential
In the child to the surprise of every one!!
Drawing tears! Yes! Tears!!
Oh what a Picture it was!!
TZP!!!
'n'th time I have seen...again yester day!!
venkat k
view at
https://www.youtube.com/results?search_ ... movie&sm=1

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

To day is world Sparrows Day:

Where are you my little sparrow…
I have not seen you now for long …..
In the lazy afternoons and busy mornings
And during pleasant evenings
I have watched on my window sills
And on the balcony where my mother used to scatter
Grains and nuts for you to clamor amid fluttering little wings
With plaintive calls for more …….

You do not have a nest, I know…

To have shelter for me…..
I have removed the flowering trees

I am sorry …in my selfishness to have..
More and more comforts……I have polluted all-round

This butchering of a beautiful species…..
I know I have to answer HIM
venkat k

Nick H
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Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by Nick H »

One of my favourite days!

We provide one nest box, and they use it. We should give them more. Still, we have a fairly healthy flock in our garden/area. Of course, we put out rice for them every day.

Happy Sparrow Day!

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Unfortunately, there is absolutely no sparrow in our area ...
When we occupied the house in 2004, there were a few..but nil now

I have grown a Neem tree which has grown very big now and another Jamoon tree also..but they cannot be seen around..

I have seen Parrots and cuckoo and also pigeon...especially in the early mornings..

Nick H
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Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by Nick H »

If you can grow something more bushy it just might help. They like out hibiscus and henna. We also have various climbing plants along the top of a whole length of compound wall.

The problem is, of course, that there have to be some in the nearby area to be attracted to your garden.

We have tailor birds and sunbirds. We have nesting sunbirds just outside the kitchen window :)

Of course we have crows. In fact I fear they have grown too many for the area and are quarrelsome too often.

We used to see more species. A next-door flooded plot used to be clean enough to be like a tiny lake, but it has become polluted and is now only a nuisance to all but the mosquitoes.

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

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."

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

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

venkatakailasam
Posts: 4170
Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

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.
Image

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

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.

venkatakailasam
Posts: 4170
Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

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

venkatakailasam
Posts: 4170
Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

venkatakailasam
Posts: 4170
Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

Image

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

venkatakailasam
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Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

( 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..."

Pratyaksham Bala
Posts: 4164
Joined: 21 May 2010, 16:57

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by Pratyaksham Bala »

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

venkatakailasam
Posts: 4170
Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

Thank ShriPB..

Are writers poor...??

10 Famous Writers’ Houses Worth Visiting...

http://mentalfloss.com/article/60124/10 ... h-visiting

venkatakailasam
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Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

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

venkatakailasam
Posts: 4170
Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

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

venkatakailasam
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Joined: 07 Feb 2010, 19:16

Re: Books-Poems Etc...and reviews

Post by venkatakailasam »

TO BE OR NOT TO BE!!

Image

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

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

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

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

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

Post by venkatakailasam »

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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