Archive for the ‘love’ Category

My Valentine is a fresh Red Rose,-

Roses, Roses,Roses 

I shall throw in your path

From the couch to the hall,

And beyond;

I shall sweep the yard and gather 

the crushed roses

And give them a fond farewell

Before the trash can is

set out for the van.

Roses, Roses, Roses!

Oh my valentine!

Roses are meant to fade away

But even years after

We shall together remember

This one crazy Valentine spirit

You and I may laugh but

when we smell it e’en in the corners

Of our crumbling home

We shall think it was a fine thing to do

After all. 


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sitting bull-1Pen Portraits-1976

In the 70s I used to write down short biographies of famous people on scraps of paper which I am these days putting into a series under Pen Portraits. These pictures cover the note and sketch of Sitting Bull. I am pleased to see I had then a fine handwriting. so small that I could go around corners to fit into the space available. b.

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Holding tight rein on your emotions is one way of living. I do not think I would want such a life. Let me enjoy life in its sweetness and if there should be moments of grief and irritations let me accept these as part of life. Life gives each varying tempos so monotony of always riding at one speed may be avoided. I see these vexations as the means to enjoy the happy moments all the more. Preciousness of my life is supplied by me. My parents because they cared enough to give theirs I am thankful. But it is for me to find my own rather than have a bad fit all my life. I must decide what I intend my life to yield for what I have put in.
Therefore I shall sit back and enjoy my life feeling the force that controls events, people has included me as well as part of it.
For me God is a loving God. I have life to learn from so maturity is possible or by neglect I am less than what I could have become. If I want to scoop hot coals to my bosom and thereby I burn myself, His nature is not a whit lessened. Only my foolishness prevents me from appreciating His love and goodness.
It is easy for people to do painful things and go through life chastened by their own mode of torture or embrace life like an infant comforted by presence of its parents.
Some think they please God by their deeds. If one thinks one gets benefit out of fasting and praying in impossible positions would please one’s conscience let each find what each will. God is not benefited by it.
It is not easy for great many to throw themselves into his lap and say,’Father, I am your child’ and await His all enveloping nature to smoothen their weariness or frenzied emotions. Instead they seek systems and invent ways to dictate How God ought to respond to theirs.
When we hold back our self we give only the second best to God, the Giver of all good things.

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As a child I lived under the thumb of my father. My mother was the  silent one. She was in a way a shadow, who nevertheless managed the household silently. My father taught what he thought I ought to know. It was dinned into me even at times with a rod. My adolescence was in unlearning a few things that I thought didn’t bear my seal of approval. Everything that he taught me for my own good  somehow went underground so to speak. Now I’m surprised it has become part of my conduct in life.

For all that parental imposition of values, as an old man I see my father more as a shadow and without emotional coloring a faded image in my memory.

With years my mother of whom I knew very little looms larger. I saw very little as she passed her self effaced in the glare of my father’s personality, and later as she faded progressively by illness to her end.

Now my thoughts often dwell on her and think, ‘I could have got to know her better if only I tried?’ Is it a mystery that love and life could work at cross purposes? While there is room for both life that is on the go takes love for granted and when it is too late love luxuriates in the ‘what might have been’.


Before sending me off to boarding school, at the age of twelve, my mother gave me a few words of advice.

One of which was this,’Mon, you are on your own now. We are not around to pick up the broken pieces. If you break things you have got to make good of the loss. You are on your own among boys who may not have love for you. They may hurt you. We are not around to wipe your tears or comfort you.’ I managed to rely on myself and avoided getting into trouble.  My boarding school days helped me win quite a few friends. (Even now I have kept them as friends.)

If my father was all harsh hiding his love my mother was all love in silence. It is her advice that rings still in my ears.

It is a mystery of love or whatever has become of it.


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