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English Reading Trails

By Anusha Iyengar
by

Anusha Iyengar

on 20 April 2011

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Transcript of English Reading Trails

To Royalty, With love A stare so wicked, by the endless time,
Engulfed a love once,
That lost its presence,
Even before its blossom
Could make its way,
To a heart so bold;
So, here it goes-
A boy lived once,
With ragged clothes and dirty shoes;
In a thatched hut- sited among the bushes,
Beside the golden castle;
A crooked nose, with eyes so weary-
His ugliness was the talk of the town,
Weary even if,
Those eyes bore within,
The deepest of love for the royal princess;
“So deep, even more than the ocean blue
Ode to my highness, with a love so true”
-he used to say;
Days passed by, years many,
The love of the beast-
Shot by arrows of millions;
But only it grew stronger and stronger,
With each phase of misery;
And every step of life;
One fine morning,
Clamped over the horse,
She tightened the belt,
Just was to drive it over…
When encircling the path
With roses so fresh,
The lad wooed her yet again;

“ The royal charm,
Whose heart-core was tender though,
But was
Masked with the earthly pride;
Gave no notice,
To the overtures of love,
Nor, to the agony he suffered;
The sub-devils pointed at the princess,
But, the lad, spread his arms and said-
“Kill me, my highness
And spare this innocent charm,
For each drop of my blood,
Has attained richness-
Greater than the castle mirth;
Through the love I bore,
For this lady!”

“Love no one in deep earnest
Let me be killed”, whispered she;
But adamantly he let the sword
Rip his chest,
And fell down below,
On the thorns of death;

The devils departed,
With smiles so wicked
And the princess clasped
His hands in fright,
But, instead,
With a beam on the face
The lad breathed his last words-
Love no one in deep earnest,
The flight of love ought to fall one day”
-saying this, she drove to the forest woods
Crushing the rose below;

Even then, he followed the footsteps
And at last, were side by side;
Suddenly, were they
Trapped in the devil-snare,
And asked by the devil himself,
As to whose blood was richer,
To swash upon the sword of the dead;
“Let not your thoughts
Remember me as a savior of yours;
But, as an unusual lover,
Who has completed the last phase of love
Through his life’s forfeit,
That even the kings and princes cannot…”

Even when the heart that loved,
Was blown away from the earth,
The princess was set,
With such a misery-
A sharp desire to get him back,
And love him even
More than mortals did,
But the wish wasn’t fulfilled
And the love left incomplete
Till eternity and beyond………… http://www.circustakeaway.co.uk/magic_trick1.php





You think I'm an ignorant savage
And you've been so many places
I guess it must be so
But still I cannot see
If the savage one is me
How can there be so much that you don't know?
You don't know ...


colors of the Wind movie
behavioral problems book ( non fiction)
faith, trust Biography
purity/devotion Graphic Novel
mystery/loss A classic
trusted companion/
faith Magazine
the right
partner website
circus tricks Self-written poem
colorful acts short story
appreciate one another song lyrics
appreciating an
austere life book in series
farm/animals graphic novel




You can own the Earth and still
All you'll own is Earth until
You can paint with all the colors of the wind You think you own whatever land you land on
The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know every rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew
Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?
Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
Come taste the sunsweet berries of the Earth
Come roll in all the riches all around you
And for once, never wonder what they're worth The rainstorm and the river are my brothers
The heron and the otter are my friends
And we are all connected to each other
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends
How high will the sycamore grow?
If you cut it down, then you'll never know
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon

For whether we are white or copper skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains
We need to paint with all the colors of the wind
Full transcript