Saturday, September 10, 2005

Blah

These things I write (with vague semblance of that despicable art called poetry) are becoming professional hazards. Like all good young men who wish to get an M.S. degree from the land of my political (and spiritual) hero, Bill Clinton, I was in the process of writing an SOP. (Statement of Purpose)

( Thanks, Mukund for the idea).'The Curse' from Mukund Prasad will appear in the first issue of the 'Undertones'.Coming back to the issue.

'An SOP in verse' oder 'The curse of verse '

An idea more wicked than a curse,
though what might be infinitely worse,
is that in trying to sound stern and terse,
I landed an SOP in pitiable verse.

And thus it went, do read me through,
A young man from Delhi,as he grew,
fell in love with things that worked,
'Engineering it is',to himself he smirked.

Ofcourse, some of my keen readers may have noticed a new dimension to my poetry.This poem, apart from lending a sense of direction to my life, is dedicated to my great friend from Iceland,
Atiia A'fe. She has a Macedonian mother, and yes, she bathes in milk.
If you havent noticed yet, then here's a fact.
The first letter of each line spells out my good friend's name.Brilliant, isn't it?
Original?No.I am sure Mr. Dan Brown(hush,now its uncool to mention him) must have used this trick.
Seth Sahib did,most certainly.This fact was brought to my attention by Mr. Bobby Venugopal.For a deeper understanding of SOP and other blues, Bobby's objective treatment of the subject must be read.
Meanwhile, 'The Undertones' is set for a September 15th launch.A birthday gift for the one with four blogs!

(Very) Brown Dan

P.S. Thank you, Sir Anirudh for the correction on 'The Node of all orbits' issue.The context of the name of the blog being...

" Farmers, merchants, dairymen, quacks, hawkers, appeared there from week to week, and disappeared as the afternoon wasted away. It was the node of all orbits."
Thomas Hardy in chapter 24 of "The Mayor of Castorbridge"

You have to give it to me for picking out such a non-descript line!

Thursday, September 01, 2005

A shirt torn, and a poet reborn

Robbie Keane, young and tame!
late he came,courting blame,
"Hey,you whelp, ripped my shirt?"
"Why, young master, you look hurt!

Summer day,there was no rain,
ever so hot, and all this fur!
all the reasons to cause a stir
that ugly green made me insane"


It's not my fault.I did not choose to re-enter the treacherous domain of poetry.I was forced into it by an esteemed fellow columnist for "The Undertones".

Dhananjay

MYSTERY CARROT AWARD
MYSTERY CARROT AWARD

for website adequacy