MY RAINBOW RACE

One blue sky above us
One ocean lapping all our shore
One earth so green and round
Who could ask for more
And because I love you
I'll give it one more try
To show my rainbow race
It's too soon to die.
Some folks want to be like an ostrich,
Bury their heads in the sand.
Some hope that plastic dreams
Can unclench all those greedy hands.
Some hope to take the easy way:
Poisons, bombs. They think we need 'em.
Don't you know you can't kill all the unbelievers?
There's no shortcut to freedom.
Go tell, go tell all the little children.
Tell all the mothers and fathers too.
Now's our last chance to learn to share
What's been given to me and you.

Words and Music by Pete Seeger (1967)

Rain

Found a little note as I was clearing a drawer - I had written it down during my trip to New Zealand. It was so appropriate that time, as it had rained the whole day. And now also it seems appropriate as I miss the Bangalore rain!

It rained and it rained and it rained and it rained;
the average fall was well maintained,
and when the tracks were simply bogs,
it started raining cats and dogs.

After a drought of half an hour
we had a most refreshing shower,
and then the most curious thing of all:
a gentle rain began to fall.

Next day was also fairly dry,
save for the deluge from the sky,
which wetted the party to the skin,
and after that the rain set in.

Arguments

Why do I still linger
Over these problems, unresolved,
And why do still I revisit
All of these arguments, yet unsolved?

Why do I rewind them
To play back in my head,
And why do I unearth them,
These things, buried and dead?

Why do I try to fix
These things, which are still broken,
And why do I still try to recall
All of these words, long unspoken?

Why do I try to resolve
All of these differences that remain,
And why do I try to ease
All of this misunderstanding and its pain?

Why do I try to make them better,
These things that went wrong,
And why do I try to change the past,
Instead of moving along?

Why do I try to make some sense
From all of this confusion,
And is my hope just in vain,
Is it only just an illusion?

~Anonymous Poet

CRABBY OLD MAN

A simple, but very eloquent poem…

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

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What do you see nurses? . . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, . . . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . ... with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . ... and makes no reply .
When you say in a loud voice . .. . . "I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice . .. . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . . . a sock or a shoe?

Who, resisting or not . .. . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding. .. . . the long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . you're not looking at me..

I'll tell you who I am. . . as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten . .. with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . . . . . . who love one another.

A young boy of sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he'll meet..
A groom soon at twenty .. . . .my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . .. . that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . and a secure happy home.
A man of thirty . . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . With ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . .. to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, . . babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . .. . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . .my wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . .. . .. shudder with dread..
For my young are all rearing . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years,. and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age .. . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles ... . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . .. . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again .. . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . .. . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . .. . open and see.
Not a crabby old man. Look closer .. .. see ME!!

SLOW DANCE

A beautiful poem forwarded by a friend ...actually she sent several but this one just stayed with me for so long....

Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?

Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Do you run through each day On the fly?
When you ask How are you?
Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?

You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Ever told your child, We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste, Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time To call and say,'Hi'

You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....Thrown away.

Life is not a race. Do take it slower
Hear the music Before the song is over

An interesting intro...

The intro to the play "Day I Met The Prince" was just so charming and interesting...

Take a dot, add a line
Roses in a circle
Stars surround a lonely night
A sky that's magical
Faraway planet with no forest
A land without a sea
Flies in a friend with a shimmering cape
And a bit of aristocracy
Miles across the Milky Way,
stars twinkling through the galaxies
A question in time,
did a goat eat my rhyme?
Or a rose that that?s just a little bit shy?
Chatter chatter, yell and scream,
Dive and swoop and song?
Foxes and wishes, a thousand lost roses,
Will the answer be a hat or a song?

Manic Screaming

The moment I heard the name of the book –"I heard God Laughing" I knew I had to get a copy...
It’s obvious...with a name like that and the fact that it was not readily available at any of the bookstores!!!

It’s a collection of Hafiz’s renderings and each one is a gem... deeply passionate and always very inspirational.

One of my favorites -

God is trying to sell you something today,
But you don’t want to buy,
That is what your suffering is:
Your fantastic haggling,
Your manic screaming over the price!

Books to the ceiling,
Books to the sky,
My pile of books is a mile high.
How I love them! How I need them!
I'll have a long beard by the time I read them.

~ Arnold Lobel

Sometimes...

Sometime you gotta runaway
So you can see who will run after you,
Sometimes you gotta talk quieter
Just to see who's listening,
Sometimes you gotta step up in a fight
Just to see who's by your side,
Sometimes you gotta make a wrong decision
To see who's there to fix it,
Sometimes you gotta let go off the one you love
Just to see if they love you enough to come back.

Feelings Poem...

Have you ever read a poem that made you laugh…and then if you gave it some thought you realised that had your situation been different, its one that could really make you cry?

There must be a wound!
No one can be this hurt
and not bleed.

How could she injure me so?
No marks
No bruise

Worse!
People say 'My, you're looking well'
…..God help me!
She's mummified me -
ALIVE!

~ Spike Milligan

Rain

Do you hear the rain?
I want to turn off the computer
and call you to tell you
how it is raining
in the green centre of the day,
late afternoon thundering open
like heartbreak -
like we imagine -
but you are another illusion -
so I keep on typing.

- Malca Litovitz

The Gift Of Friends

Met a school friend after 17 years...but we just picked up the threads from where we left...it didn't seem that so many years had passed...changes and yet no change at all...

This poem by Karin Schaefer is dedicated to my friends...Param, Rahul and Rohit...

There are days when
bubbling from us comes
the innocent child within,
who giggles at the little things
and wears a silly grin.

There are days when
melancholy comes to
visit for a while;
the mind feels tired, the body weak;
we have no strength to smile.

There are days when
joy abundant
grabs a hold of you and me;
wraps us up in all it's splendor,
lifts us up and sets us free.

There are days when
sorrow wraps us
in its cloak of grief and fear,
'till our hearts ache to the breaking,
'till our eyes can't shed a tear.

There are days when
love bestows us
with its wonderment and light;
with its beauty and its mystery,
its power and its might.

And there are days when
life rewards us
and seems to make amends
by granting us a marvelous gift,
the precious gift of Friends.

I'm Nobody! Who are you?

~Emily Dickinson

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there's a pair of us?
Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one's name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

ARE friends delight or pain?

~Emily Dickinson

ARE friends delight or pain?
Could bounty but remain
Riches were good.

But if they only stay
Bolder to fly away,
Riches are sad.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

~Emily Dickinson

"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.

"Food for Thought"

by Anonymous

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings,
but shorter tempers;
wider freeways,
but narrower viewpoints;
we spend more,
but have less;
we buy more,
but enjoy it less.

We have bigger houses
and smaller families;
more conveniences,
but less time;
we have more knowledge,
but less sense.
There are more experts,
but more problems;
more medicine,
but less wellness.

We talk too much,
love too seldom,
and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living,
but not a life;
we've added years to life,
not life to years.

We've been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space;
We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul;
We've split the atom, but not our prejudice.
We have higher incomes, but lower morals;
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We've become long on quantity, but short on quality.
These are the times of tall men, and short character;
steep profits, and shallow relationships.

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare;
more leisure, but less fun;
more abundance of food, but less nutrition.
These are days of fancier houses, but broken homes.

It is a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stockroom;
a time when technology can bring this letter to you,
and a time when you can choose either to make a difference...
or just hit delete.

Time Tested Beauty Tips

Can we say wikipediaed like we say googled?

Was talking the other day to a friend and couldnot remember this name of a movie of Audrey Hepburn's ...wikipediaed and got that plus lots more...

Came across this poem "Time Tested Beauty Tips" by Levenson (which has become falsely attributed to Audrey Hepburn)

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge you'll never walk alone.
People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; Never throw out anybody.
Remember, If you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of your arm.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!