Archive for November, 2005

An excerpt from the Childrens book "WORMUS" by Deepak Menon

November 30, 2005
The Wonderful Booga Dooga Land Forest
There were Golden trees and Green trees
And Silvery trees and Cream trees.
There were large trees and small trees,
Short trees and tall trees;
There were trees with fat trunks
And trees with thin trunks.
Trees that grew from the ground
And trees that could hop around
There were trees that walked
And some trees that talked
Some trees who could sing
Some with bells that could ring
There was even a tree
That no one could see
So as you can see my little one
The Booga Dooga forest is full of fun
It is a place that always seems
To be seen by us only in dreams
But be sure that maybe one day
You will see a Pixie along your way
And if his name is Pickwick,
don’t forget to ask
The way to the Booga Dooga Land
at last
With Love to all the children of this world

A Wild Flower in my Garden – Amazing!! – And a poem!

November 23, 2005

I suddenly noticed this amazing creation of
Nature in my garden and it reminded me of
a poem I wrote long ago – Here it is –

Deepak Menon

Morning light of amber grey
Materializing from the void
Earth’s diaphanous veils peeling away,
As draped in Night she invisible lays.
Each lifted veil revealing shades
Of silvery grey slowly emerging,
As the starry gown of night fades
Before the imperceptibly surging
Tide of morning light that aspires
To clasp lady Earth in its embrace,
In a frenzy of controlled desire,
A blush rising on its face
As the fading gown reveals,
In glorious nakedness the charms
That Night covetously conceals,
Within its protective outspread arms.
But morning continues relentlessly
The veils called Night, to strip away,
With eyes wide open, breathlessly,
Not caring Nights fears to allay.
Till there appear the contours
Against the faintly blushing sky,
Of heaving bosoms silhouetted
While Lady earth does sleeping lie.
A gentle zephyr fragrant with the scent
Of Earth’s perfumes wafts gently down,
Caressing intrepidly the sacrosanct
Person of Earth in Nights faded gown.
A shiver through the figure shimmers
Of sleeping Earth; there is a stir
Of rustling leaves, and there glimmers,
A glimpse of her glory in a blur
Of tantalising, immortal, frozen time
Suddenly into focus springing,
As Morning light explodes to shine
Incandescently, with birdsong ringing,
The nuptial bells of their union immortal
And the Earth is bathed in ethereal glow,
While the sun peeps gently through the portal
Her beauty to the waiting world to show.

A Poem from a compilation Dated 1974 of Sunshine Magazine

November 22, 2005

A banker passed a gardener.
As each went on his way,
The gardener wished that he could be
A banker, rich and gay.
He’d sit in comfort in a chair
Behind his office walls
And greet important, busy men
Who came on urgent calls.
He didn’t know the banker’s thoughts.
The banker envied him
His glowing tan, his bright, clear eyes,
His graceful stride and vim.
“Oh, what a job!” the banker sighed
“To work near trees and roses,
And breathe fresh air that hasn’t been

In other people’s noses!”

Posted Without permission from Lyla Myers – the poet

LOVES END – A poem by Deepak Menon

November 14, 2005

It was brought to my notice
In words profound
By one who has loved intensely
The world around

That the end of love

When the stars fall to earth
Crushing freedom into bottomless wells,
And the devils take rebirth
Amidst the clamor of clanging bells,
When volcanoes spout fiery death
Burning emotions into torrid ash,
And tornadoes shout obscene threats
Driving divinity before them to crash,
Into barren hills of cracked stone,
Where none can live nor even stand
For each moment there, lives alone
In the eternity men have not known,
To last but a moment in flaming time,
Which they only have lived to see
And feel, who have tasted the wine
Of love that forever will be
Their conceptualization of eternity
That exists in reveler’s worlds
Where never is seen the Trinity
Nor the flag of prudence unfurled
To be a shroud covering the corpses
Of mindless thoughts that try to fight
The bonds holding the synopsis
Of unborn yearnings put to flight
By constancy coursing the walls
Of forts built only to fall
Before righteousness’ tall
Sanctimonious claims to all
Who would or could never tell
That the end of love was not hell
Nor parting, nor hating as well

But annihilations final bell!!

Touch me not in my garden……

November 12, 2005

The hand went out to caress the leaves ……..

And this is what happened !!!!!!

Sometimes we shrivel up when love reaches out to us…….

The Spear of Eternity – A fabric Painting by Deepak Menon

November 2, 2005

My first and only attempt at this kind of art …