Media has no heart
Praise Rama as well as Ravna
So that you please both sections,
Which is what newspapers do
And which is what diplomats do.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Seeta, a pity.
Seeta, you are a noble lady,
So chaste, so modest and so graceful.
Rama is your noble lord,
So virtuous, so chivalrous and so truthful.
Ravna is your bitter lover,
So passionate, so devoted and so lustful.
Rama waged a war to redeem you.
Ravna laid his life to retain you.
Rama loved you, as you are his wife.
Ravna wanted you for what you are.
Rama tested you by fire.
If you failed, what would be your fate?
Can Ravna do so, if he were in Rama’s shoes?
Love of Rama is conditional
Love of Ravna is categorical.
Rama loves you; Ravna devours you.
You are second to none to Ravna,
Who lost everything for you and
Who could do anything for you?
Have not you committed a sin
In being the cause for killing a loving dog?
The love for keeping chastity,
More than you love for Rama,
Weighed on you to reject Ravna.
The love for your chastity,
Rather than his love for you,
Weighed on Rama to own you back.
Ravna’s love for you is pure.
He desired you more than Rama did.
You would have lived more vividly
Had you met Ravna first and married.
Instead, you were at loss to earn a sin.
I pity you.
06.06.2002, pakd
[Based on the Hindu Epic
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A War Between Ravna And Kauravas
Rama fought Ravna and killed him.
The good prevailed over the evil.
Thus spoke Ramayana the Epic.
Pandavas fought Kauravas and killed them.
The justice prevailed over the wrong.
Thus spoke Mahabharata the Epic.
What if Ravna and Gowrava fought?
It is happening in politics now.
04.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rama
The Day That Kausalya Does Not See His Face
She is restless and sad so her heart does race
Every person speaking she thinks it is her son
She calls out His Name Rama Rama dear son!
She goes about her work her mind is on Rama
What a fate have I to be separated from Rama
Let no Mother suffer this and part with her son
What a sacrifice this is to have God as my son!
I am a Mother like any other who raised her son
I wished for Him the very best like a human son
Did not wish even for a human son to leave me
How can I bear this separation of Rama and me?
He is the best in the world for me and for you
Taking His Name they will have salvation true
I don't need anything in this world ever to gain
Rama dearest please show me your face again!
poem by Ashoka Harichandan
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Hare Rama
Soaked in the tears of this home
Memories grind me into my bittered life.
Earlier days were lively in full bloom.
But soon got into this rancid life.
I was not the home minister, but
In the production of babies and dishes.
Not considered to be a prestigious post.
Unprofessionally professional was my status.
Cutting vegetables for curries and sambar
Grinding black gram and rice for dosas
Ooh la la la, for everyone at home, other
Than me finding no day for my own wishes.
Age has put me on the altar today.
Children ask me about wasted talents why?
What shall i say? that i sacrificed?
Or have i been a coward?
Ere shaken my mortal, chanting Rama Rama
Shall be the best resort to replace the wasted.
So Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Hare Rama!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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From The Banks Of Ganga: V
I open my eyes
Non-light on the Ganga
Breaking into dawn
A la Kubja stood as if waiting
For me to open my eyes
Kabhie Krishna ko dekha?
Chalo meri saath!
Like a mute animal
I follow her into a chamber
Where a marble Krishna welcomed me
How long did I sit in His presence?
Hare Rama hare rama
Rama Rama Hare hare
Hare Krishna Hare Krishna
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
My own chanting
Reverberating in my ears
There flowed Ganga
In bright sunlight…
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Hari Chrishna
People with light orange cloaks
comes pass in a jolly procession.
There are two hitting drums
and one sings over a loudspeaker horn
and I see a few
getting rattling noises out of cymbals
that makes the people
on the sidewalk stand still
while the small group of people
draws attention and pass.
It’s a shrill “hare krishna hare krishna
krishna krishna hare hare
hare rama hare rama
rama rama hare hare”
that goes right through you
and I wonder
what the strange words
are exactly saying
and I hear how the drums
keeps the earthly rhythm
and it’s like a street circus
that disappears in the distance
while they disappear behind buildings.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Trinity Of Carnatic Music 1-St.Thyagaraja
You're lost in the ism of Rama
Leaving behind a mission of Rama
Whence a practice of euphony
Across the compass of tones
Treasuring a supernal bliss long trailed
You know the heft of the bliss?
As much as that of Rama
Ethereally coloured quantum
Your-way-caressed to melt
Into our souls abundantly scaled
Your realm of scales, mode of melodies
Credence of pristine musical perseverence
Whole spirit alone with Rama
Ineffable elation of a doctrine for salvage
How am I to accost?
Guru? swamy, rishi, poet, writer, father?
You're the immortal, empyreal adept
Permeated and permeating intranssient
A cult of popularism for soul-liberation
How else be acclaimed than 'Nadabrahmam'
And 'Nadabrahmam' alone
poem by Indira Renganathan
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If I produce it, I will stage it as a performance. A small audience will be invited; rehearsals of the sections will be done in the mornings, and those sections will be recorded in the afternoons.
quote by Bill Dixon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The reason we have not gone to newspapers is because its a slow growth industry and I think they are dying. I'm not sure there will be newspapers in 10 years. I read newspapers every day. I even read Murdoch's Wall Street Journal.
quote by Sumner Redstone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love is barren with out memento
Many a script,
Many a gift,
Did I present to you.
You paid me nil.
Acceptance by you,
A forbidden soul,
Itself is the token
Of remittance.
However, I want
From you a memento
To show to others
Your love for me,
Without which
What is love worth?
Give me your fallen hair.
Give me your bitten nail.
Bharata was proud of
Rama’s love by his sandals.
21.04.2002, Pakd
In the epic The Ramayana, Bharata brought the sandals of his brother, Rama, to keep them as the ruler the kingdom in the place of Rama, who, denouncing the throne, went to the exile.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sri Rama Jayam
Evokes chanting of my 'RamRam'
Picking up Pavalamalli flowers at 6a.m
A good day ahead
My regular counts of SriRamajayam
After a hectic kitchen record at 9.30a.m
Inking out in words in a note book
And on a day of submission...
'Before pooja almirah supporting me a mat-seater
My concentration grips Rama better
Although bossing over my anger to fade out
As the maid keeps sweeping
Dust from the broom splattering
Without a divine heart for the sacred book
I say sorry to Rama
Chuck out myself of the room
To make coffee for the lady-broom
And give up not; I further continue with Rama
Sitting in the chair in the porch in silence
A while later hubby next glances
Brunch ready?
Rush to the dining table
Hubby relishes his pappads crumble
Hmm.. I say sorry to Rama
Back to pooja almirah
Sit up to pursue Rama
But oops, a phone call
Daughter! And hubby is hysterical
Me too driven towards grand-son's prattle
Forget myself and quite unaware
But soon conscience pricks
Work be soon finished for Rama's blessing looks
Should submit it to the Lord
I say sorry to Rama
Sit back to my writing
Lunch time past; Yet mind not skipping
Write and write on
Rama must be invisibly looking at me
My hope, Anjaneya recommends me
By 4p.m complete my work
March on to the temple
Hand over my book so humble
Pray with closed eyes
Finally blessed with ' prasadh' when awake.
But lo, the wrapper to shake
A piece of Ramajayam-paper...
I look at the Lord so puzzled
But He, smiling as He ever has stood
poem by Indira Renganathan
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High Spirits
This is an instrumental done with the Chieftains, in three sections. The first is up-tempo, a jig; the shorter second features Celtic chants by the Chieftains; the third slows the pace a bit and has Van doing a few da-da-das. The three sections are repeated, then parts 1 & 2 are done a third time before a fadeout of chants.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So
So, what's it gonna' be...
I waited patiently, stubby pencil in hand.
'...chicken or fish? '
She was planning a dinner party, the magnificent woman-
'Um...um...why not both? Oh, and we need some candles...put those down.'
'ok...both, ' I wrote, 'chicken and fish. Who are these people you're inviting?
'Just a bunch of diplomats. Oh, and flowers, but I'll get those.'
'Diplomats? What kind? ' I inquired, idly.
'I don't know, yet. Whatever's not on sale. But there's only one kind of diplomat. You'd best be going. They'll be here in six hours.'
I rose to go.
'And the salad? ' I remembered.
'What about it? , she asked, tying on an apron.
'What kind? '
'Mista.'
'Yes, sir, ' I saluted, and left.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Some newspapers have a hands-off policy on favored politicians. But it's generally very small newspapers or local TV stations.
quote by Bob Woodward
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Mornin
In the mornin'
When my feet hit the floor,
I will praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
When I walk out my door,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
When I praise Him I keep motivated.
And my heart is elevated!
Shaking trouble makers away.
When I praise Him I know He's my Savior,
Saving me from bad behavior.
And those who bait that hate,
Wont spoil my flavor.
In the mornin'
When I'm yawning at dawn,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
I've got faith so strong.
'Cause I'm blessed to know that God is with me,
All day long!
In the mornin'
When my feet hit the floor,
I will praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
When I walk out my door,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
Oh yes I,
Praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
Oh yes I...
Praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him!
Oh yes I...
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
When I walk out my door,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
And dedicated
'To my 'Roots'.
I keep re-booted! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The university exchange programme Erasmus is barely mentioned in the business sections of newspapers, yet Erasmus has created the first generation of young Europeans. I call it a sexual revolution: a young Catalan man meets a Flemish girl – they fall in love, they get married and they become European, as do their children. The Erasmus idea should be compulsory – not just for students, but also for taxi drivers, plumbers and other workers. By this, I mean they need to spend time in other countries within the European Union; they should integrate
Umberto Eco in Interview - La Stampa (2012)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Lord Is His Devotees' Slave
Whatever is a devotee's
caste, clan, family, or name,
Rama's love for him is the same.
Beggar and king
are one to him.
Say, of what caste could be
Brahma or Shiva?
Rama will never abide
in the egotistic man's heart
therefore his slave, Suradasa,
has abandoned pride.
Rama was born in the Raghu clan
Krishna found his home in Gokula.
Words fail to tell of
the Lord's love
universal, all-embracing;
Dhruva was a Kshatriya,
Prahlada a demon and Vidura the son of a maid:
yet the Lord gave them his supreme love,
Krishna washed the devotees' feet
at the Rajasuya.
The Lord is the slave
of his devotees
age after age.
The tongue can't relate
his countless deeds.
Says Suradasa, the Puranas and Vedas
are witness to these.
poem by Sant Surdas
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Psalm 150
Praise God in his heavenly dwelling;
praise him in his mighty heaven!
Praise him for his mighty works;
praise his unequaled greatness!
Praise him with a blast of the trumpet;
praise him with the lyre and harp!
Praise him with the tambourine and dancing;
praise him with stringed instruments and flutes!
Praise him with a clash of cymbals;
praise him with loud clanging cymbals.
Let everything that lives sing praises to the Lord!
Praise the Lord!!
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Window Paned Like A Person
a window paned
is like a person
divided up sections
closed off sections
separate
compartments
sealed
clear glass emotions
suffering clear seen
behind walls not hidden
pertained putty
applied sealants
sectioned glass
fixing broken
panes takes
time skill will
avoid rush jobs
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Reveal nil
Rama told Krishna ill of Siva;
Krishna will tell Siva of it
When he moves away from Rama
Or when he moves close to Siva.
17.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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