Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
born in tuticorin, brought up in madurai mostly but studied all over tamilnadu, parents were poor but simple and straight. was eldest of four siblings, and heavy as a capricorn, born on the darkest day of the year 21 december 1945.
studied english literature, and taught english for two years. got into ias, allotted to maharashtra cadre, and worked in government till some time ago. since... more »
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Daniel Trevelyn Joseph Poems
It was Vidwans who wrote to me When I was Joint Secretary Planning Department Referring to Kahlil Gibran’s Being nonplussed on somebody
I have crossed sixty, attention is failing. Lights are fading, recognition decreases, I feel almost unwanted now and then.
I cry tears of bitter pain and sorrow: One says you write prose and claim it is verse, The other asks, is it only autobiography? And one more accuses me of just recording
Firm, shapely, level-looking Great assets of his girl-wife Making him proud of the assets, Loosening tied up movable property,
An angel on earth! Pah, where are they? They are fairy-tales or christmas carols: No evidence, not there: but only priests' Holy men's way of cheering and cheating.
Scylla and Charybdis
I am polite, listen to others, Keep quiet, and carry out instructions; I fall into one trap, ignored as ineffective.
From the Swimming Pool
Bright, sunny, cool morning with no breeze Above the blue, nirmal sky, not a bit cloudy, Enclosed with buildings except on one side, For green foliage looks peeps into the pool,
First it was at Sessa house-cum-cafe On way from Bomdila to Tezpur, I saw a grey-coloured cat: Soon it was at my feet,
Among Wordsworth, Coleridge and Ted Hugh...
Like the river in Kubla Khan, Gushing forth, From inside it arises Beseeching to be put out
My son-in-law who now has moved to Delhi, Comes to Mumbai and goes back Same day with a street dog Buying for it an AC first class ticket
Epitaph - 2008
Here lies one who bore Life’s joys and pains, Failures and successes equally or tried to; Who is grateful for his life, wife Tilaka, daughter Joti,
It is a pleasure to be in a car Where the driver has no ego, Not against the other fellow Not giving way, or brushing you past,
Like magic balls, words spring up From nowhere, bouncing From mysterious utter darkness inside; Only after climbing above inner surface,
Making of a Poem
It is like taking a walk In a forest by the riverside And keeping a lookout for it, For anything worth picking up
Comments about Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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It was Vidwans who wrote to me
When I was Joint Secretary Planning Department
Referring to Kahlil Gibran’s
Being nonplussed on somebody
In the marketplace
Asking him, “Who are you? ”
That was 26 years ago.
It took me a few more years
To wander along to Tiruvannamalai
With Babu my brother-in-law
And start reading Ramana Maharshi
And his japa, “Who am I? ”
An onion peeled to nothing,
Says the rationalist:
Reach Nothing which is Everything,
Reading Cordelia’s Nothing
Overwhelmed by the play
I agree blossoming ...