Even this shall pass away...

In one day, I discover two beautiful poems...Very lovely, very different...

Even this shall pass away
By Theodore Tilton

Once in Persia reigned a King,
Who upon his signet ring
Graved a maxim true and wise,
Which, if held before his eyes,
Gave him counsel at a glance,
Fit for every change and chance.
Solemn words, and these are they;
"Even this shall pass away."

Trains of camels through the sand
Brought him gems from Samarkand;
Fleets of galleys through the seas
Brought him pearls to match with these;
But he counted not his gain,
Treasures of the mine or main;
"What is wealth?" the king would say;
"Even this shall pass away."

Mid the revels of his court,
At the zenith of his sport,
When the palms of all his guests,
Burned with clapping at his jests,
He, amid his figs and wine;
Cried, 'O loving friends of mine;
Pleasures come, but not to stay;
"Even this shall pass away"

Lady, fairest ever seen,
Was the bride he crowned his queen.
Pillowed on his marriage bed,
Softly to his soul he said:
Though no bridegroom ever pressed;
Fairer bosom to his breast,
Mortal flesh must come to clay-
"Even this shall pass away"

Fighting on a furious field,
Once a javelin pierced his shield;
Soldiers, with a loud lament,
Bore him bleeding to his tent.
Groaning from his tortured side,
"Pain is hard to bear," he cried;
"But with patience, day by day",
"Even this shall pass away"

Towering in the public square,
Twenty cubits in the air,
Rose his statue carved in stone.
Then the king, disguised, unknown,
Stood before his sculptured name,
Musing meekly: "What is fame?"
Fame is but a slow decay;
"Even this shall pass away"

Struck with palsy, sore and old,
Waiting at the Gates of Gold,
Said he with his dying breath,
"Life is done, but what is death?"
Then, in answer to the king,
Fell a sun beam on his ring,
Showing by a heavenly ray,
"Even this shall pass away."

This too shall pass away
 By Helen Steiner  

If I can endure for this minute
Whatever is happening to me,
No matter how heavy my heart is
Or how dark the moment may be-

If I can remain calm and quiet
With all the world crashing about me,
Secure in the knowledge God loves me
When everyone else seems to doubt me-

If I can but keep on believing
What I know in my heart to be true,
That darkness will fade with the morning
And that this will pass away, too-

Then nothing in life can defeat me
For as long as this knowledge remains
I can suffer whatever is happening
For I know God will break all of the chains

That are binding me tight in the darkness
And trying to fill me with fear-
For there is no night without dawning
And I know that my morning is near.

Valerie's Letter

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2W0-z8EnaM

I know there’s no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks. But I don’t care. I am me.

My name is Valerie. I don’t think I’ll live much longer, and I wanted to tell someone about my life. This is the only autobiography that I’ll ever write, and – God – I’m writing it on toilet paper.

I was born in Nottingham in 1985. I don’t remember much of those early years. But I do remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tottlebrook, and she used to tell me that God was in the rain. I passed my eleven plus, and went to a girl’s grammar. It was at school that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Sarah.

It was her wrists – they were beautiful.

I thought we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that it was an adolescent phase that people outgrew. Sarah did. I didn’t.

In 2002 I fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I couldn’t have done it without Chris holding my hand. My father wouldn’t look at me. He told me to go and never come back. My mother said nothing.

I’d only told them the truth. Was that so selfish?
Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have.

It is the very last inch of us.
But within that inch, we are free.

I’d always known what I’d wanted to do with my life, and in 2015 I started my first film: The Salt Flats. It was the most important role of my life. Not because of my career, but because that was how I met Ruth.

The first time we kissed, I knew I never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again.

We moved to a small flat in London together. She grew scarlet carsons for me in our window box. And our place always smelt of roses. Those were the best years of my life. But America’s war grew worse and worse and eventually came to London.

After that there were no roses anymore. Not for anyone.

I remember how the meaning of words began to change. How unfamiliar words like “collateral” and “rendition” became frightening. Where things like norsefire and the articles of allegiance became powerful, I remember how different became dangerous. I still don’t understand it: why they hate us so much. They took Ruth while she was out buying food. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. It wasn’t long until they came for me.

It seems strange that my life should end in such a terrible place.

But for three years I had roses – and apologized to no-one.

I shall die here.

Every inch of me shall perish.
Every inch. But one.

An inch.

It is small and it is fragile, and it is the only thing in the world worth having.

We must never lose it or give it away. We must never let them take it from us

I hope that - whoever you are - you escape this place. I hope that the world turns, and that things get better.

But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you:

I love you.
With all my heart. I love you.

Valerie

The lost childhood.

Where did she go?
The girl with skinned knees
The girl with cropped hair
The girl in denim and tees

Where did she go?
The girl with the brown face
The girl with dirty nails
The girl who knew cotton - not lace

Where did she go?
The girl who laughed too loud
The girl who cried unashamedly
The girl who held her own in a crowd

Where did she go?
The girl who could fistcuff & fight
The girl who stood her ground
The girl who didn't hesitate in calling right

IF I EVER...

If i ever think of you
so hard,so hard I try not to
I only wish that before you had gone
I only wish that you had said good bye

In all these years I never knew
that when I ever thought of you
that every time I reached for you
these were the words I needed to hear

"Goodbye, farewell,thank you,my friend
the journey was lovely, but it had to end
When I am gone, I wont look back, wont turn around
Farewell, godspeed, do not hold on"

© Deepti Ravi
February 2009

DON'T GO FAR OFF............

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

--Pablo Neruda

P.S. I would love to say that I had written a poem as beautiful and evocative as this :((

SELL ME YOUR HEART....

"Sell me your hearts,I am here to buy"
raucously bellowed the heart buying man"
Give them to me, I'll pay any price
courageous among you,come if you can!"


"Run!Run! As fast as winds"
screamed petrified children scrambling away
escaping away from that horrible old man
leaving their unfinished games and play

"Why are we running? Who is that man?"
asked one child, new to that place"
To me he seems lonely,sad and dejected
Maybe we should ask him to once join our plays?"

Incredulously another stared at the boy
and asked "Did you not see that devil in disguise?
He is only here to buy our hearts!
That horrid old man with charcoal red eyes!"

"His wizened bent body is serpentine like
His fingers like talons, to tear you apart
He dresses in rags,has no shoes on his feet
and did you not hear him say that he would buy your heart?"

Puzzled the child looked at his newfound mate
and said, "All I did see was an old man,all alone
with eager bright eyes and a longing smile
crying for friendship,though weary to the bone"

The child then turned and he ran and he ran
as fast as the winds towards the heart buying man
The heart buyer watched amazed at such an extroardinary sight
until the child came, stopped and reached out its hand

And then with eyes gleaming, a strange smile lurking
he clapped his hands in untold glee
and asked"Have you come to sell me me your heart?"
"No",said the child "You can have mine for free."

-Deepti ,2004.

THE DONKEY

When I was in a school, I had this amazing teacher called Nalini Parthiban. Most people found her incredibly boring. She was. She lived in a world of her own where every molecule surrounding her was fascinated by literature. When she would start talking about a particular writer, a book or a poem that fascinated her ,her eyes would light up, a delighted smile would settle on her face and she would start gesturing rapidly. The very sight of such passion made me love her. Love the depth to which she loved literature. Admired her ability to dissect any obscure piece of writing, analyse and hunt every single hidden meaning within what seemed quite cut and dried. I remember this one instance which happened probably when I was in the IXth. I had read a poem by G.K Chesterton which I had found quite enchanting. The language, the rhyme, the sheer descriptiveness of the poem captivated me. When I went up to Nalini and showed her the poem , she directed her delighted smile at me and said "Yes, this is an extremely good poem by Chesterton. But do you know what it means?". I was flumoxed. I had never thought about what the poem meant. When she explained it to me, from being enchanted, I fell deeply in love with the poem. It was such a simple poem but had such a sweet meaning behind it. I'll post the poem now and leave anyone reading this to guess the meaning.

THE DONKEY
G.K. Chesterton

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

PARSLEY IS GHARSLEY ! ( Part Two)

Read Part One ..Candy is Dandy first...

Didn’t have the heart to cut Ogden Nash short. Decided to keep you rolling on the floor with laughter, by adding on some extracts from his most hilarious poems and limericks.

This one which is one of his best is can you believe it , about standing without purpose on the road?

One of the hardest explanations to be found

Is an explanation for just standing around.

Anyone just standing around looks pretty sinister,

Even a minister;
………………………………..
Well, should any official ask you why you are just standing around,

Do you wish you could simply sink into the ground?

My dear sir, do not embarrassed, do not reach for your gun or your knife,

Remember the password, which, uttered in a tone of quiet despair,

is the explanation of anyone's standing around anywhere
at any hour for any length of time: "I'm waiting for my wife."

A few of his limericks about animals.

The cow is of bovine ilk;

One end is moo, the other is milk

The ant has made himself illustrious

Through constant industry industrious.
So what?
Would you be calm and placid,
If you were full of formic acid?

Ogden Nash also gets credit to having written the shortest poem ever.

Purity is obscurity.

On parents. This is a high five to all kids.

Children aren't happy with nothing to ignore,
And that's what parents were created for.

But my favourite of all is his poem on visiting the dentist. This is what initiated my fascination towards Ogden Nash. I remember having it as a text back when I was in school.

This Is Going To Hurt Just A Little Bit

One thing I like less than most things is sitting in a dentist chair withmy mouth wide open.
And that I will never have to do it again is a hope that I am againsthope hopen.
Because some tortures are physical and some are mental,
But the one that is both is dental.

It is hard to be self-possessed
With your jaw digging into your chest.
So hard to retain your calm
When your fingernails are making serious alterations in your life line or love line or some other important line in your palm;
So hard to give your usual effect of cheery benignity
When you know your position is one of the two or three in lifemost lacking in dignity.

And your mouth is like a section of road that is being worked on.
And it is all cluttered up with stone crushers and concrete mixers and drills and steam rollers and there isn't a nerve in your head thatyou aren't being irked on.
Oh, some people are unfortunate enough to be strung up by thumbs.
And others have things done to their gums,
And your teeth are supposed to be being polished,
But you have reason to believe they are being demolished.

And the circumstance that adds most to your terror
Is that it's all done with a mirror,
Because the dentist may be a bear, or as the Romans used to say, onlythey were referring to a feminine bear when they said it, an ursa,
But all the same how can you be sure when he takes his crowbar in onehand and mirror in the other he won't get mixed up, the way youdo when you try to tie a bow tie with the aid of a mirror, and forgetthat left is right and vice versa?

And then at last he says That will be all; but it isn't because he thencoats your mouth from cellar to roof
With something that I suspect is generally used to put a shine on a horse's hoof.
And you totter to your feet and think. Well it's all over now and afterall it was only this once.
And he says come back in three monce.

And this, O Fate, is I think the most vicious circle that thou ever sentest,
That Man has to go continually to the dentist to keep his teeth in good condition when the chief reason he wants his teeth in good condition is so that he won't have to go to the dentist.

Classy, aint it?

CANDY IS DANDY,BUT LIQUOR IS QUICKER! (Part One)

The British always believed they had the monopoly to humor. This belief lasted right until Ogden Nash appeared as a tiny blip that grew into a massive blot on the literary radar. An American writer and poet( with a city Nashville already named after an ancestor of his) ,who first started his career as a journalist, Ogden Nash took the world by storm with his writings which were at first read hilarious-second,insightful about the vagaries of daily life.
Take for example this,

The Lord in His wisdom made the fly,
And then forgot to tell us why.

Celebrating Leos. Nash was born on August 19, 1902.



One day radio director Tom Carlson found to his dismay that his dog had destroyed an autographed copy of one of Ogden Nash's books. Although the book was out of print, Carlson managed to find another, which he duly sent to Nash with an explanation - and a request for another autograph.
The book was soon returned, with an inscription from the author: "To Tom Carlson or his dog, depending on whose taste it best suits."

Ogden Nash never got to graduate from college. His first published work was a pretty good poem titled ‘Spring comes to Murray Hill’ which was published in the ‘New Yorker’.

Nash, not just wrote amazing poetry, but also wrote books for children. Famous among these are ‘Cricket of Caradon’ (his first) and ‘Custard the Dragon’. Children loved his books because it addresses them as equal to adults. Quite an appeal isn’t that? I can remember when I was young; I used to find it extremely irritating when adults would take that sing song tone and utter quite nonsensical nothings when speaking to me. Did you find that as irritating as I did?

Enough about his life story. Let me get onto why I find Ogden Nash so fascinating. Apart from the humor in his writings, what is really quite remarkable is the way he managed to make a parody out of the most mundane things in life. From Christmas, to wealth, to husbands and wives, to animals, visits to the doctor, children standing on his feet, he succeeded in deriving amusement out of the simplest instances in life. And if you scraped below the surfaces of humor, you would find that his writings had hidden depths. A unique perception to all things mundane.

Any poet would admit that getting those words to rhyme is one of the most difficult tasks unless one is quite practiced at it. The most enviable trait in Nash is that he never broke his head over getting his words to rhyme! He simply created new words or altered the spelling, pronunciation,- the everything of existing words to make them fit his sentences.
And I think he must be one of the only poets who not just got away with it, but was also appreciated for it! A classic example of this would be a poem which he wrote about ‘rhyming his poetry’.

English is a language than which none is sublimer,
But it presents certain difficulties for the rhymer.
There are no rhymes for orange or silver
Unless liberties you pilfer.
I was once slapped by a young lady named Miss Goringe,
And the only reason I was looking at her that way,she represented a rhyme for orange.
I suggest that some painter do a tormented mural
On the perversity of the English plural

Isn’t that atrocious, yet at the same time marvelous?

I FIND YOU BORING -PART TWO

Read part one before attempting this...


What would you do
if you were looked in the eye
and told “Girl! I find you boring!”
with a hurt and desperate cry
would you rush into the room
bang the door on the way
and sob hearty fits 99
or would you stand up and say
in a rather sneering way
in a voice loud and clear
“I only wish you’d told me this before
you see, the feelings are mutual, my dear!”

Deepti