A Voice Said
*
*
FRAGMENT OF A LOST POEM
O the clear moment, when from the mouth
A word flies, current immediately
Among friends; or when a loving gift astounds
As the identical wish nearest the heart;
Or when a stone, volleyed in sudden danger,
Strikes the rabid beast full on the snout!
Moments in never....
Robert Graves
A Question a poem by Robert Frost
A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth.
Robert Frost
If in the silent echo, he stood out, interlocking streets, shadows of the trees everywhere, he dreaded the silence but he dreaded his own dysfunction even more. Come on, buck up, the voice said, but the rhythms were the same, lost, lost, things undone, parties unattended, all kept in silence, fragments of lyricism, a quiet time. He could hear the sound of his unfortunate rooster, the crows drifting across the Paddington terraces, the handsome beast calling for his mate. But there were none. He thought he could find solace in the bars. There was none. Shadows flickered, and once again he found himself haunting the corridors of love.
These ancient times, these forgotten moments, had changed everything. But even so, they had been washed away by the torrents of history, the shifting times, events enfolding upon themselves, a network of streets which held invisible answers. These things were not what he meant. Shadows were calling; and he swirled to answer. Come quickly. Hold my hand. He was prepared to give up. He took those marks and he wouldn't answer the door any more. Your adventures, your heart, the ceaseless quest. Looking for love in all the wrong places. The clatter of obsession. The desolation of morn.
It's not right, nothing's right. You can congratulate yourself. They seem like nice kids. But children fly the coop. And there are only difficult people left, Shadowlands, only stern voices and out of control impulses. He could romanticise his own self destruction. He could recover in full swing. He could hear the voices of chaos in far off countries. He could hear the voices of amateur historians, recording history as if they had never existed. But they were the ones who were going to change the world, make it a better place, fairer, more equal distribution of wealth, the rising of the working class. He didn't know the answer.
He came back from his walk and the house was still silent. It was a shadow land indeed. He tiptoed past the bodies in the lounge room, the travelling theatre group, and he made recall of his gifts, he stood in his own backyard and watched the chooks, at odds with their city environment. They made him feel secure, as if nothing could go wrong. He didn't do things he should have done. Parts of the last nonsensical novel were pasted around the walls, trying to establish the proper thread. His guests couldn't make sense of the fragments either. It had become a very crowded world.
He wanted to be in a place that offered solace. He wanted to live peacefully and without conflict. All the acts of bravery would have to be internal. The bright brick colours of the seaside city never matched his interior moods. The sun splashed warmth on white walls, bougainvillea added splashes of colour. His longing for love would never be answered, not now, not ever. He had already lived several lives. There were so many mistakes, drunken nights, smashed days, too many cigarettes. He had neglected his own health and thought he would die soon. Already the gang was beginning to pass.
Ian's suicide attempts and the surrounding events, his behaviour, callous, dismissive, unknown, smashed glasses in the fire place, had destroyed his reputation. Callous, cruel, cold, once they had shouted out the windows of cars at him, murderer. Murderer. He died because of you. And he shuddered and drank and pretended he was in a different world, pretended not to care. A race to the end; and the end was coming for them all. The group disbanded, went their separate ways. Finally the house broke up and eventually it was sold, for a fraction of what it would be worth today. His was a heart full of echoes; and all he wanted was to disappear.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.euronews.net/en/article/29/11/2008/mumbai-attacks-a-blow-by-blow-account/
The carnage in Mumbai began on Wednesday evening as the heavily-armed gunmen arrived on shore in dinghies, possibly launched from an outlying vessel.
At around 21.20 local time there were attacks at a number of tourist locations.
Armed men stormed the Taj Mahal hotel, hurling grenades and shooting at guests.
At the same time, the assault on the Oberoi Trident hotel began and hostages were taken.
The Cama and Albless Hospital was also attacked and two gunmen were killed.
Nariman House, which housed the Jewish Chabad Lubavitch centre, was beseiged.
Leopold’s Cafe, a popular meeting place for foreigners, was stormed and diners sprayed with bullets.
At the city’s Chattrapati Shivaji railway station two attackers opened fire causing mass panic. There were many casualties.
As Thursday dawned, the Indian army was engaged in gunbattles with militants at both hotels. Small groups of guests begin to escape the mayhem.
As gunfire continued, it was announced that Hemant Karkare, head of the anti-terrorism squad, was dead and a group called the “Deccan Mujahedeen” was claiming responsibility.
The army embarked on a room-by-room search at the Taj, but explosions were still being heard at both hotels.
Meanwhile the Indian navy boarded a cargo ship it believed was linked to the violence.
The Indian Prime Minister, Manmohan Singh, addressed the nation, blaming attackers from outside the country and vowing they would not escape.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/30/world/asia/30mumbai.html?bl&ex=1228107600&en=95e0984e8f92cc7c&ei=5087%0A
MUMBAI, India — Death hung over Mumbai on Saturday.
At the end of a three-day standoff with militants amid a gunfight and a blazing fire Saturday at the Taj Mahal Palace & Tower Hotel, the removal of the bodies from the ruins of the 105-year-old landmark began.
At the main city hospital morgue, relatives clutched one another in grief as they went to identify their dead. By midafternoon, the morgue was running out of body bags, and by evening the death toll had risen to 172, a figure that was sure to rise once the dead from the Taj hotel were counted. Funerals went on throughout the day.
As the reckoning began after the siege here, troubling questions arose about whether Indian authorities could have anticipated the attack, taken better security precautions in a city as vulnerable as Mumbai, the country’s financial capital, or crushed the attackers more swiftly.
All the while, tensions swelled between India and Pakistan, where officials insisted that their government had nothing to do with assisting the attackers and promised that they would act swiftly if any connection was found within their country.
Perhaps the most troubling question to emerge Saturday for the Indian authorities was how, if official estimates are accurate, just 10 gunmen could have caused so much carnage and repelled Indian security forces for more than three days in three different buildings.
Melbourne Sun:
A PLANE-LOAD of emotional and exhausted Australians was safe on home soil last night after escaping the terror attacks in Mumbai, which claimed 195 lives.
Hours after the 60-hour terror siege ended, tears flowed at Sydney International Airport as a mercy flight from Mumbai reunited Australians with their distressed families.
There were similar scenes at Melbourne Airport, as desperate Aussies scrambled to get out of the teeming Indian city of Mumbai, which was stormed by up to 40 gunmen three days ago.
The heavily armed, well prepared and highly-trained terrorists carried out the attacks at 10 locations across Mumbai.
Two Australians, Brett Taylor, 49, and Doug Markell, 71, both of Sydney, have been confirmed among the 22 foreign nationals killed.
Two young Queenslanders were injured. The Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade said last night all other Australians had been accounted for.
Reports last night said seven of the terrorists were believed to be British-born Pakistanis. Two of them have been arrested.
The Indian navy was investigating an abandoned trawler carrying a corpse near the coast off Mumbai.
About 40 heavily armed, well prepared and highly-trained terrorists carried out the attacks after storming ashore from inflatable boats on Wednesday evening.
US military intelligence sources suggested the attacks were masterminded by Pakistani militant group, the al-Qaida-linked Lashkar-e-Toiba.
Touching down in Sydney last night, Melbourne couple Matt and Emily Granland told how they had drunk beer in Leopold's Cafe, just days before the violence erupted.
*
FRAGMENT OF A LOST POEM
O the clear moment, when from the mouth
A word flies, current immediately
Among friends; or when a loving gift astounds
As the identical wish nearest the heart;
Or when a stone, volleyed in sudden danger,
Strikes the rabid beast full on the snout!
Moments in never....
Robert Graves
A Question a poem by Robert Frost
A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth.
Robert Frost
If in the silent echo, he stood out, interlocking streets, shadows of the trees everywhere, he dreaded the silence but he dreaded his own dysfunction even more. Come on, buck up, the voice said, but the rhythms were the same, lost, lost, things undone, parties unattended, all kept in silence, fragments of lyricism, a quiet time. He could hear the sound of his unfortunate rooster, the crows drifting across the Paddington terraces, the handsome beast calling for his mate. But there were none. He thought he could find solace in the bars. There was none. Shadows flickered, and once again he found himself haunting the corridors of love.
These ancient times, these forgotten moments, had changed everything. But even so, they had been washed away by the torrents of history, the shifting times, events enfolding upon themselves, a network of streets which held invisible answers. These things were not what he meant. Shadows were calling; and he swirled to answer. Come quickly. Hold my hand. He was prepared to give up. He took those marks and he wouldn't answer the door any more. Your adventures, your heart, the ceaseless quest. Looking for love in all the wrong places. The clatter of obsession. The desolation of morn.
It's not right, nothing's right. You can congratulate yourself. They seem like nice kids. But children fly the coop. And there are only difficult people left, Shadowlands, only stern voices and out of control impulses. He could romanticise his own self destruction. He could recover in full swing. He could hear the voices of chaos in far off countries. He could hear the voices of amateur historians, recording history as if they had never existed. But they were the ones who were going to change the world, make it a better place, fairer, more equal distribution of wealth, the rising of the working class. He didn't know the answer.
He came back from his walk and the house was still silent. It was a shadow land indeed. He tiptoed past the bodies in the lounge room, the travelling theatre group, and he made recall of his gifts, he stood in his own backyard and watched the chooks, at odds with their city environment. They made him feel secure, as if nothing could go wrong. He didn't do things he should have done. Parts of the last nonsensical novel were pasted around the walls, trying to establish the proper thread. His guests couldn't make sense of the fragments either. It had become a very crowded world.
He wanted to be in a place that offered solace. He wanted to live peacefully and without conflict. All the acts of bravery would have to be internal. The bright brick colours of the seaside city never matched his interior moods. The sun splashed warmth on white walls, bougainvillea added splashes of colour. His longing for love would never be answered, not now, not ever. He had already lived several lives. There were so many mistakes, drunken nights, smashed days, too many cigarettes. He had neglected his own health and thought he would die soon. Already the gang was beginning to pass.
Ian's suicide attempts and the surrounding events, his behaviour, callous, dismissive, unknown, smashed glasses in the fire place, had destroyed his reputation. Callous, cruel, cold, once they had shouted out the windows of cars at him, murderer. Murderer. He died because of you. And he shuddered and drank and pretended he was in a different world, pretended not to care. A race to the end; and the end was coming for them all. The group disbanded, went their separate ways. Finally the house broke up and eventually it was sold, for a fraction of what it would be worth today. His was a heart full of echoes; and all he wanted was to disappear.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.euronews.net/en/article/29/11/2008/mumbai-attacks-a-blow-by-blow-account/
The carnage in Mumbai began on Wednesday evening as the heavily-armed gunmen arrived on shore in dinghies, possibly launched from an outlying vessel.
At around 21.20 local time there were attacks at a number of tourist locations.
Armed men stormed the Taj Mahal hotel, hurling grenades and shooting at guests.
At the same time, the assault on the Oberoi Trident hotel began and hostages were taken.
The Cama and Albless Hospital was also attacked and two gunmen were killed.
Nariman House, which housed the Jewish Chabad Lubavitch centre, was beseiged.
Leopold’s Cafe, a popular meeting place for foreigners, was stormed and diners sprayed with bullets.
At the city’s Chattrapati Shivaji railway station two attackers opened fire causing mass panic. There were many casualties.
As Thursday dawned, the Indian army was engaged in gunbattles with militants at both hotels. Small groups of guests begin to escape the mayhem.
As gunfire continued, it was announced that Hemant Karkare, head of the anti-terrorism squad, was dead and a group called the “Deccan Mujahedeen” was claiming responsibility.
The army embarked on a room-by-room search at the Taj, but explosions were still being heard at both hotels.
Meanwhile the Indian navy boarded a cargo ship it believed was linked to the violence.
The Indian Prime Minister, Manmohan Singh, addressed the nation, blaming attackers from outside the country and vowing they would not escape.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/30/world/asia/30mumbai.html?bl&ex=1228107600&en=95e0984e8f92cc7c&ei=5087%0A
MUMBAI, India — Death hung over Mumbai on Saturday.
At the end of a three-day standoff with militants amid a gunfight and a blazing fire Saturday at the Taj Mahal Palace & Tower Hotel, the removal of the bodies from the ruins of the 105-year-old landmark began.
At the main city hospital morgue, relatives clutched one another in grief as they went to identify their dead. By midafternoon, the morgue was running out of body bags, and by evening the death toll had risen to 172, a figure that was sure to rise once the dead from the Taj hotel were counted. Funerals went on throughout the day.
As the reckoning began after the siege here, troubling questions arose about whether Indian authorities could have anticipated the attack, taken better security precautions in a city as vulnerable as Mumbai, the country’s financial capital, or crushed the attackers more swiftly.
All the while, tensions swelled between India and Pakistan, where officials insisted that their government had nothing to do with assisting the attackers and promised that they would act swiftly if any connection was found within their country.
Perhaps the most troubling question to emerge Saturday for the Indian authorities was how, if official estimates are accurate, just 10 gunmen could have caused so much carnage and repelled Indian security forces for more than three days in three different buildings.
Melbourne Sun:
A PLANE-LOAD of emotional and exhausted Australians was safe on home soil last night after escaping the terror attacks in Mumbai, which claimed 195 lives.
Hours after the 60-hour terror siege ended, tears flowed at Sydney International Airport as a mercy flight from Mumbai reunited Australians with their distressed families.
There were similar scenes at Melbourne Airport, as desperate Aussies scrambled to get out of the teeming Indian city of Mumbai, which was stormed by up to 40 gunmen three days ago.
The heavily armed, well prepared and highly-trained terrorists carried out the attacks at 10 locations across Mumbai.
Two Australians, Brett Taylor, 49, and Doug Markell, 71, both of Sydney, have been confirmed among the 22 foreign nationals killed.
Two young Queenslanders were injured. The Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade said last night all other Australians had been accounted for.
Reports last night said seven of the terrorists were believed to be British-born Pakistanis. Two of them have been arrested.
The Indian navy was investigating an abandoned trawler carrying a corpse near the coast off Mumbai.
About 40 heavily armed, well prepared and highly-trained terrorists carried out the attacks after storming ashore from inflatable boats on Wednesday evening.
US military intelligence sources suggested the attacks were masterminded by Pakistani militant group, the al-Qaida-linked Lashkar-e-Toiba.
Touching down in Sydney last night, Melbourne couple Matt and Emily Granland told how they had drunk beer in Leopold's Cafe, just days before the violence erupted.
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