The Old Beach Road

Once I took the old beach route

For I had missed the bus

Taking the road in that darkly night

Was for me just too much

An old man told of this old beach road

That he alone once tread

But as I gaze at the dark nights stars

The constellations now seem strange.

When I set out this night

I thought I saw the Great Bear

But now strange stars loom so large

That it gives me a scare

The Sea now seems to say something

Or did a seagull scream

And Northern Lights seem so strange

In this Eastern beach

Is this the sands I left behind

Or the famed Sands of Time

Will I reach my home beach

Or the very dawn of time

Has a day now passed

Or perhaps a Century

Is that a sea turtle out there

Or a Creature of some Primordial beach

I wake up in my home beach

Where fisherman cry fish, fish

But did I really walk out there

Or was I half asleep.

Edgar Allan Poe

 

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), was a United States short-story writer, poet, critic and editor. There has always been disagreement as to the quality of his work, and some of the events of his life. However, even those critics who do not consider him a great writer acknowledge his importance in the development of modern literature. Poe's most popular stories are those of horror, such as "The Fall of the House of Usher" and "The Black Cat, "and of detection , such as "The Gold Bug" and "The Murders in Rue Morgue." Among his well-known lyrical poems are the haunting "Ulalume," "The Raven," and "Annabel Lee," and the classically restrained "To Helen."

Poe was one of the most brilliant and independent 19th-century literary critics. His emphasis on artistic rather than morel values in literature greatly influenced modern literary theory and practice. His stressing of poetry's musical elements, and his use of evocative and symbolic language and imagery, contributed to the rise of the French Symbolist movement in poetry and, through it, to various 20th century trends in poetry.

Poe was the first to formulate rules for the short story, and the principles of brevity and unity that he advocated have influenced short-story writing on the present time. He is credited with inventing the modern detective story, and bringing the Gothic horror tale to a high level of development. He enriched both types of stories with psychological insight. Poe's preoccupation with madness, death and the supernatural, and his denial of the importance of morel values in literature, were bitterly criticized during his lifetime and for some years afterward. More valid from a literary standpoint was the objection - still made by many critics - that some of his works are too contrived.

Edgar Poe was born in Boston, second of the three children of Davis and Elizabeth Poe, travelling actors. When Edgar was two years old his mother died in Richmond, Virginia; their father had previously deserted the family. Egar was taken into the home of John Allan, a merchant, from whom the boy took his middle name. The Allan's lived in England from 1815 to 1820, where Edgar attended private schools. He later attended a Richmond academy.

Poe entered the University of Virginia in1826, but at the end of the year Allan withdrew him because Poe had run up large gambling debts. After a quarrel with his foster father Poe went to Bostan in 1827. There he published anonymously his first volume of poetry, Tamerlane and Other Poems. He enlisted in the army and served two years. In 1829 he published his second book of poems. The same year his foster mother died and Poe became briefly reconciled with his foster father, who got him an appointment tothe U.S. Military Academy in 1830. Poe cut classes and drills and was expelled from the Academy early in 1831. His break with Allan was final.

In 1831 Poe lived in New York City for a short while and published Poems. It contained many of his best poems, including "To Helen," "The City and the Sea," and "Israfel." Poe then went to live with his aunt Mrs. Maria Clemm in Baltimore. He turned to the writing of fiction and did not publish another book of poetry for 14 years. In 1833 he won a prize for the story "Manuscript Found in a Bottle."

Poe went back to Richmond in 1835 and joined the staff of the Sothern Literary Messenger, soon becoming its editor. Poe won wide attention for his critical reviews of the Messenger. In 1837 Poe moved to New York, but unable to find work there, moved again to Philadelphia, where he became editor of Burton's Gentleman's Magazine (1839-40). Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque was published in 1840 and favorably reviewed. Poe was literary editor of Graham's Magazine for a few months in 1841 and in it began to publish detective stories.

Poe won another prize with "The Gold Bug" (1843), which became his most popular story during his lifetime. He returned to New York and became assistant editor of the Mirror. Publication of The Raven and Other Poems in 1845 brought him increased fame. For a few months he was the owner of the Broadway Journal, but the periodical failed. Poe's wife died of tuberculosis in 1847, and he became depressed and ill. He became emotionally involved with two women and attempted suicide. During his last years, however, he wrote some of his best poems and critical essays. He also published Eureka (1848), a philosophical work.

Poe became engaged to a childhood sweet-heart in Richmond in 1849. He then went to Baltimore to bring his aunt back for the wedding. A few day later he was found fatally ill in a tavern in Baltimore. The legend that Poe was an opium addict and wastrel is contradicted by the facts of his predominantly quiet and hard-working life. He was an alcoholic, but his claim that he drank to alleviate periods of intense depression was partly upheld by physicians who examined him and said he had a brain lesion. In 1910 Poe was elected to the Hall of Fame for Great Americans

Camille Pissarro: The Quiet Mastermind of Impressionism

 

Camille Pissarro may not be as instantly recognizable as Monet or Degas, but without him, Impressionism might never have blossomed into the revolutionary art movement we know today. Born on the island of St. Thomas in 1830, Pissarro brought a unique, worldly perspective to French art — one that fused tropical light with European technique.

Often called the “father of Impressionism,” Pissarro was more than a painter; he was a mentor. He encouraged a spirit of collaboration among artists like Cézanne, Gauguin, and Van Gogh, shaping their work with his gentle advice and firm belief in painting modern life. His own style evolved constantly — from the loose brushwork of early Impressionism to the bold, pointillist technique of Neo-Impressionism.

What set Pissarro apart was his devotion to painting the ordinary. He depicted peasants working the land, bustling city streets, and tranquil rural scenes with an honesty that was both radical and deeply human. Unlike many of his peers, he never sought fame or spectacle. He preferred quiet innovation and community over personal glory.

Camille Pissarro died in 1903, having spent his life observing, evolving, and supporting others. Today, his legacy lives not only in his own paintings, but in the movement he helped build — one that forever changed how we see the world.

James Cook

 

Captain James Cook (1728-1779), was an English navigator. Captain Cook accurately charted vast regions of the south pacific; provided a basis for England's claim to Australia and New Zealand; and developed a diet that prevented scurvy among seamen. Born of farming parents in Yorkshire, Cook went to sea as a boy and joined the Royal Navy in1755. His seamanship and deligence soon gained recognition, and four years later he was made a master of a naval sloop. From 1763 to 1767 he explored the St. Lawrence River and the shores of Labrador and Newfoundland.

In 1768, with a group of scientists, Cook set out on his first expedition, sailing around Cape Horn. The immediate purpose was to observe the transit of the planet Venus from the vantage point of Tahiti. On his voyage, which continued till 1771, the party went on to explore the coast of New Zealand and to chart the eastern coast of Australia. As a result of this expedition, Cook was promoted to commander in the navy and was sent with two ships to determine whether there was a continent at the south extremity of the earth. Although they did not sight Antarctica, the explorers were the first to cross the Antarctic Circle. During this expedition of 1772-75, Cook sailed around the world far to the south, mapping the South Pacific and other southern latitudes much as they are known today. By providing the crews with sufficient vegetables, Cook proved that scurvy, a desease caused by lack of vitamin C, need no longer plague men on long voyages.

Cook was promoted as captain and on his third voyage of discovery, 1776-78, undertook a search for the Northwest Passage - a linking of the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans by way of Arctic regions. He approached from the Pacific side and discovered the Sandwich (Hawaiian) Islands. Although he found no passage through the ice, Cook explored the northwest coast upto Bering Strait. After his return to Hawaii, he was killed by a native because of a misunderstanding over a missing boat. The journals of Cook and his associates are among the most entertaining accounts of discovery and scientific investigation.

Idle Thoughts Under a Tree

 

Under an Ahela tree

I gaze up at its fine yellow flowers

Is this tree the prettiest there is

Or is it just second to the Japanese Cherry

Under an Ironwood tree

I gaze up at its bright red leaves

Is its wood the strongest there is

Or is it just second to the Australian Buloke

Under a Banyan tree

I gazed up at its fine green leaves

Do these branches hold the truth

Or just ghosts to eat the fruits

Under another great tree

I gazed up at its splendid leaves

Will enlightenment embrace me here

Or when night falls will I feel fear

The Jungle Path

 

Oil pastel

 

The Great Sandy River (Mahaweli River)

Meandering along the valley

Flows the great sandy river

Starting from the central hills

It reaches the sea for ever

Men may come and men may go

But the river flows on

The river reminds me

We are all one

Flow when the sun is shining

Or in the pouring rain

When you reach the sea in an unknown bay

It'll be destiny's end

Drawing using the Paint Application (Windows)

 

Shadow shadow darkest shadow

When bad times come remember even your shadow might disappear, but then the Sun will shine and........(Poem by me)

Shadow Shadow darkest shadow

Will you too leave me

When the meaningless reeds on the other river bank move with the wind

Will you still believe me

Shadow Shadow my own shadow

Will they even sway you

If in anger they bend the truth

Will you then lie too

Shadow Shadow my best friend

If the wind blows slow

And wicked men use oars to reach me

Will you join them too

Shadow Shadow darkest shadow

If darkness helps your goals

And the Sun disappears for me

Will you help them kill my Soul

Shadow Shadow my very own Shadow

If you ever lose your Soul

In the darkest hour that comes before dawn

Remember the Sun will still unite us.

If the world is dull for you

 

Light and Time

 

One dark dreary morning

Raindrops in the air

The Wind hit my face

Why! cried I in despair

(And the Wind replied...............)

The Sun pushes me relentlessly

And I push the dark blue Sea

The secret of Light

Is the secret of all beings

Time itself stops for Light

Need I say more

It's the fabric of Everything

For everything a Cure

THE MEANING OF THIS POEM:

Surface Meaning / Narrative:

The poem begins with a person in despair, walking through a dark, rainy, windy morning, emotionally overwhelmed, even crying out “Why!”. The world around them is bleak, possibly reflecting their inner turmoil.

But then, the wind answers—a poetic device that turns natural forces into wise, speaking entities.

Deeper Interpretation:

The wind’s response becomes the heart of the poem. It introduces a larger, cosmic perspective:

"The Sun pushes me relentlessly" – The wind explains it is not acting on its own; it is moved by the sun. This implies a chain of causation, where even destructive or uncomfortable forces (like a cold wind) are driven by something greater and necessary (the sun).

"And I push the dark blue Sea" – The wind influences the ocean, tying into the interconnectedness of nature. Nothing acts in isolation.

"The secret of Light / Is the secret of all beings" – Light becomes a metaphor for truth, origin, or life itself. Light enables life, growth, and awareness.

"Time itself stops for Light" – A reference to Einstein’s theory: from light’s point of view, time doesn’t pass. This line adds a scientific-philosophical depth, suggesting that light transcends time—perhaps even death, sorrow, or change.

"It's the fabric of Everything / For everything a Cure" – Light is not just a force but a healing presence, the very essence of existence.

Overall Meaning:

The poem seems to be about finding meaning in suffering and darkness by recognizing a greater cosmic order.

The narrator starts in despair, feeling isolated in a storm (literal or emotional).

But the wind’s reply reveals that even harsh elements are part of something larger and purposeful.

The ultimate answer is Light—a symbol of truth, unity, healing, and transcendence.

There’s a quiet reassurance that even the most painful forces are part of a larger balance, and that understanding this can lead to peace.

Themes:

Interconnectedness of nature

Light as a metaphor for truth or divinity

Cosmic perspective on human suffering

Finding hope through understanding

Once the Ocean told me

 

Once the ocean told me

One of its secrets

Of a moon that shone full

And old idiots awoken

Out of the darkness

Of a black ship that sailed

Of shrieking old men

Who came from a grave

A celestial bird beckoned me

To a land of gold

But the ocean echoed

It was a land of unattained hopes

But more wonderful than

The gold of crumbling old men

Or the words of decaying law books

Are the secret laws of the ocean

The un-written laws of good and evil

The un-written laws of right and wrong

I am RRR

 I wrote this short story

I am RRR, living in the land of Serendib, where my father lived and before that his father, and though some men deny that we belong here, my link with this land both in time and space is infinite, for this is what the ocean told me and the ocean is older than any man or anything else living or dead.

But once I foolishly contemplated this problem, day after day and night after night I fell to thinking........ until one night the phosphorescent ocean beckoned me to the shore and spoke to me in a language I seemed to know well......... I saw glimpses of a different time and a different place.......I saw the land of unattained hopes where the dreams of men appeared once and disappeared never to be seen again........... The ocean seemed to have sensed my sadness for it took me to the land of  ZAAAA…... where men were so clever that I foresaw great progress.....they I felt would build a city whose peaks would touch the moon.......but when I returned in time....... half a century later all I saw was an impoverished, miserable land.......... for the men though very clever were selfish and jealous of their fellow beings...... they had suppressed each other............

Although my ancestors had lived here, I no longer felt like living here for I longed for the lands beyond where the sun shone differently, and men thought differently. I heard from men who sailed the seven seas of a land to the west of calm beaches and great cities so high that men never set sight upon their peaks.

Day after day and night after night I dreamed and the ocean which was silent until then spoke again in the kind language that I seemed to know well, of a land to the west called the land of NOR where the sun shone so gently that there were four wonderful seasons, all of them colder than the coldest days in Serendib, where men were so orderly that they needed no laws. As I gazed under a yellow moon the ocean parted and gave me glimpses of this land of order, that needed no laws for the men were sane, perhaps too sane for I thought I saw a land of despair, a land where boredom prevailed, a frightful emptiness, a secret death wish, but before I could say anything the ocean took me to another land. 

This was the great land of CAN where men fled and sought refuge in an earlier, darker time, but could never return home again. This then I decided was the land of hope, where a better life could be sought a land of wealth where men achieved what they desired. But it was a dreary, cold land, where the sun barely shone, and men worked continuously like machines. Happiness here could only be found in money for there was nothing else. The trees here looked monotonously dull, much like the sun.

The sea seemed to have sensed the blow this dealt to my illusions for it took me to a land where the sun shone hot. This was a land of unimagined wealth, of great sunny cities, where the land was blessed with gold that was black, and great men walked about proudly in robes. But then I saw a glimpse of a man's hand being severed for stealing a loaf of bread, while the great men pretended to lead pious lives. Then I saw a women being stoned to death and I knew it was a land I will never visit.

Then the ocean showed me the land of the poor, for it had been ruined by its own rulers. But it was also a land where the sun shone brighter when it shone and it rained harder when it rained, and anything planted on the ground would flourish. The people though sad now were once happy, perhaps they will be happy again, and I recognized it as my own land.  This was a land where Time was on my side or at least so I hoped, and I decided never to leave it again.

Time (Poem)

 

I am Time

The Universe is mine

Don’t be too bold

For I’ll make you old

 

Hell and heaven heed me

Even they know they need me

The young sometimes tease me

When old try to please me

 

Wise men pretend I am a stranger

But even they know I am a danger

Only one thing never feels my might

And that is the dam thing called Light

The meaning of the last line....at the speed of light time stops....so light itself doesn't have a sense of time

Experimental drawing in notebook

 

Experimental drawing on a notebook

 

Drawing in the notebook

 

Drawing by me - mixed media - Acrylic on canvas + Oil pastel

 

Atoms

I may be wrong but from what I understand no matter how hard we try to differentiate among ourselves (and look down on people who are different from us), we are all made up of the same basic kinds of atoms......and they really get recycled in every sense of the word......they are virtually indestructible and it is thought that the atoms we are made up of passed through several stars before miraculously combining to make each of us, I wrote this poem with this in mind.

Years came and years went

We were born again

But though many eons passed away

We couldn't comprehend

Until one day the Sun burnt out

And we became stardust

When the dust collided

Another world was born

This world formed an ocean

And the ocean formed a soup

From this primordial soup of life

Came a terrible coup

We kept on quarreling every day

Till there was little left

It never dawned on us

We were all just atoms at best

George Grosz: Satirist of a Broken Age

George Grosz (1893–1959) was a German painter, draftsman, and caricaturist whose biting satire and scathing social commentary made him one of the most distinctive voices of the Weimar Republic. Known for his sharp lines, grotesque exaggerations, and uncompromising critique of society, Grosz chronicled the turbulence of early 20th-century Europe with both humor and brutality.

Born Georg Ehrenfried Groß in Berlin, Grosz grew up in a rapidly modernizing yet politically unstable Germany. He studied at the Dresden Academy of Fine Arts and later at the Berlin College of Arts and Crafts, where he absorbed influences ranging from German Expressionism to Futurism. In 1916, he anglicized his name to “George Grosz” in a symbolic rejection of nationalism during World War I. Conscripted into the army during World War I, Grosz experienced the chaos and senselessness of modern warfare firsthand. His deep disillusionment shaped his lifelong opposition to militarism and authoritarianism. After the war, he became involved with the Berlin Dada movement, which embraced absurdity and provocation as a response to a world shattered by violence.

Grosz also joined the Communist Party for a time, channeling his anger into art that exposed class inequality, corruption, and the failures of capitalism. His works from the 1920s often portray decadent bourgeois figures, lecherous businessmen, and war profiteers, depicted as grotesque caricatures in a morally bankrupt society. 

Grosz developed a distinctive visual style characterized by:

Caricature and exaggeration: Figures often appear distorted, their greed, cruelty, or stupidity laid bare.

Urban imagery: His Berlin was a city of sleazy cabarets, corrupt politicians, and desperate workers.

Sharp draughtsmanship: Influenced by comics, street posters, and advertising, Grosz employed clean, decisive lines with biting precision.

Key works such as The Eclipse of the Sun (1926) and Pillars of Society (1926) illustrate his critique of power structures, showing politicians and elites as grotesque puppets complicit in exploitation and war.

With the rise of the Nazis, Grosz—whose art was labeled “degenerate”—emigrated to the United States in 1933. In New York, he taught at the Art Students League and shifted toward more traditional painting, exploring landscapes and still lifes. Although his later work was less politically radical, Grosz continued to wrestle with themes of human folly and destruction. George Grosz remains a central figure in the history of modern art for his fearless social critique and innovative fusion of political satire with fine art. His unflinching depictions of hypocrisy, greed, and violence resonate as both historical documents of Weimar Germany and timeless warnings about the fragility of democracy.

Oil Pastel Drawing