Navtej Kohli's Eclectic Assortment of Poetry

Navtej Kohli brings a poem to stir your senses. I hope you like this poem and the sentiments hidden in the words of 'Contentment' by Oliver Wendell Holmes. For more such touching poems, keep reading Navtej Kohli Blog.

Contentment - a poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Contentment
"Man wants but little here below"
Little I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone,
(A very plain brown stone will do,)
That I may call my own;
And close at hand is such a one,
In yonder street that fronts the sun.
Plain food is quite enough for me;
Three courses are as good as ten;
If Nature can subsist on three,
Thank Heaven for three.
Amen!I always thought cold victual nice;
My choice would be vanilla-ice.
I care not much for gold or land;
Give me a mortgage here and there,
Some good bank-stock, some note of hand,
Or trifling railroad share,
I only ask that Fortune send
A little more than I shall spend.
Honors are silly toys, I know,
And titles are but empty names;
I would, perhaps, be Plenipo,
But only near St. James;
I'm very sure I should not care
To fill our Gubernator's chair.
Jewels are baubles; It is a sin
To care for such unfruitful things;
One good-sized diamond in a pin,
Some, not so large, in rings,
A ruby, and a pearl, or so,
Will do for me; - I laugh at show.
My dame should dress in cheap attire;
(Good, heavy silks are never dear;)
I own perhaps I might desire
Some shawls of true Cashmere,
Some marrowy crapes of China silk,
Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.
I would not have the horse I drive
So fast that folks must stop and stare;
An easy gait - two forty-five
Suits me; I do not care;
Perhaps, for just a single spurt,
Some seconds less would do no hurt.
Of pictures, I should like to own
Titians and Raphaels three or four,
I love so much their style and tone,
One Turner, and no more,
(A landscape, - foreground golden dirt,The sunshine painted with a squirt.)
Of books but few,- some fifty scoreFor daily use,
and bound for wear;
The rest upon an upper floor;
Some little luxury there
Of red morocco's gilded gleam
And vellum rich as country cream.
Busts, cameos, gems, such things as these,
Which others often show for pride,
I value for their power to please,
And selfish churls deride;
One Stradivarius, I confess,
Two Meerschaums, I would fain possess.
Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn,
Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;
Shall not carved tables serve my turn,
But all must be of buhl?
Give grasping pomp its double share,
I ask but one recumbent chair.
Thus humble let me live and die,
Nor long for Midas' golden touch;
If Heaven more generous gifts deny,
I shall not miss them much,
Too grateful for the blessing lent
Of simple tastes and mind content!

Navtej Kohli on Youtube Navtej Kohli Medicine Facts

Navtej Kohli's beautiful spectrum of poetry

Do we ever get to know, who we really are? Lets find out with Navtej Kohli..
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
- by Emily Dickinson
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you -- Nobody -- Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise -- you know!
How dreary -- to be -- Somebody!
How public -- like a Frog --To tell one's name -- the livelong June --
To an admiring Bog!

Stone Soup - A Story Told by Navtej Kohli

The Stone Soup is a centuries old European folktale with several variations. Here is one of the versions on this famous tale on Navtej Kohli Blog.

Once upon a time an old lady was on a long journey to reach her home town. She had been walking for many days when she came to a village late one afternoon. At the first house she knocked on the door and asked if they could give her shelter for the night, but the owner said they had no room. Walking further into the village she met a man on the road and asked him where she would be able to buy some food. He said she would need to go to another village for that and hurried on his way. She tried another house and asked if they had any food to spare. The answer was no, this year’s harvest had been very bad and what little food they had they must keep for themselves. Tired and hungry, the old lady went from house to house and got the same response every time. No one could help her. The old woman thought that the bad harvest must have been very bad indeed if it had made the whole village so unhappy that they forgot the traditional custom of welcome and hospitality for travelers.She saw a group of boys playing under a tree by the village square and told them that she was very hungry and wanted to make magic soup, but she couldn’t do it by herself, she needed some help. ‘What kind of soup?’ they asked. ‘Stone soup’ she said. ‘All I need is a big pot of boiling water and I can make the most delicious soup you ever tasted.’ The boys were also very hungry and it was a long time since they had tasted delicious soup. ‘I can bring a pot from my house,’ said one. ‘I’ll get the water from the well,’ said another. The rest set off to get some wood to make the fire.As the boys made the fire and put the pot on it a few villagers stopped to see what was happening. By the time the water was boiling a crowd had gathered around.

The old lady dropped a stone into the water and waited a few minutes. Then she lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips and took a sip. ‘Hmmm’ she said, ‘delicious, but it’s missing something. I know – it needs a little salt.’ ‘I have some salt said a woman’, and she went off to get it. When the salt was in the pot the old woman tried it again. ‘Wonderful’ she said, ‘but it would be even better if it had some herbs in it.’ ‘I have a few in my garden’, said a man, and soon there were herbs in the pot. The old lady tasted again. ‘Delicious’ she said, but it would be just perfect with a few vegetables in it.’ ‘I have a potato’ said one man. ‘I have a bit of cabbage’ said another. Soon the soup had several different kinds of vegetables in it. The old lady tasted it again. ‘You know’ she said, ‘if this soup had some fish in it, it would be fit for a king.’ ‘I caught a fish in the river this morning’ said one of the boys, ‘you can have that.’ By now the whole village was crowding round to see the magic soup being made and gradually they all decided that they wanted to be part of the magic. One woman brought garlic, another some lentils, yet another brought some meat. As the contributions came, the old lady stirred them into the soup. Eventually she declared that the soup was ready, but it was of course far too much for her to eat, so she invited everyone to go and get their bowls so she could give them some.That night the villagers ate the most delicious and most nutritious meal any of them had tasted for a long, long time. They stayed late in the village square talking and laughing around the fire on which the soup had been made.The next morning as the old lady prepared to go on her way the villagers begged her to stay. ‘Please don’t go,’ they said, ‘you made us this wonderful soup and we were happy together for the first time in years. You must stay and help us do it again.’ But the old lady told them that she had to be on her way, and besides they didn’t need her to help them any more. Now they had the recipe they could make stone soup for themselves any time they wanted it.

Poem Written At Morning by Wallace Stevens

A sunny day's complete Poussiniana
Divide it from itself. It is this or that
And it is not.
By metaphor you paint
A thing. Thus, the pineapple was a leather fruit,
A fruit for pewter, thorned and palmed and blue,
To be served by men of ice.
The senses paint
By metaphor. The juice was fragranter
Than wettest cinnamon. It was cribled pears
Dripping a morning sap.
The truth must be
That you do not see, you experience, you feel,
That the buxom eye brings merely its element
To the total thing, a shapeless giant forced
Upward.
Green were the curls upon that head.

- by Wallace Stevens

Read some ponderable content by Navtej Kohli

The CD boy, a touching story by Navtej Kohli

Navtej Kohli tells a beautiful heartfelt love story of a CD boy.

A boy walked into a CD store and saw a girl behind the counter.
She smiled and he thought it was the most beautiful smile he has ever seen before…
He said "Uh... Yeah... Umm... I would like to buy a CD." He picked one out and gave her money for it.
"Would you like me to wrap it for you?" she asked, putting on her cute smile again.
He nodded in yes and she went to the back for wrapping the CD.
She came back with the wrapped CD and gave it to him. He took it and walked out of the store. He went home and from then on, he went to that store everyday and bought a CD, and she wrapped it for him. He took the CD home and put it in his closet. He was still too shy to ask her out and he really wanted to but he couldn't. His mother found out about this and told him to just ask her.
So the next day, he took all his courage and went to the store. He bought a CD like he did everyday and once again she went to the back of the store and came back with it wrapped. He took it and when she wasn't looking, he left his phone number on the desk and ran out...
!!!RRRRRING!!!
The mother picked up the phone and said, "Hello?"
It was the girl!!! She asked for the boy and the mother started to cry and said, "You don't know? He passed away yesterday...
" The line was quiet except for the cries of the boy's mother. Later in the day, the mother went into the boy's room because she wanted to remember him. She thought she would start by looking at his clothes. So she opened the closet. She was face to face with piles and piles and piles of unopened CDs. She was surprised to find all those CDs and she picked one up and sat down on the bed and she started to open one.
Inside, there was a CD and as she took it out of the wrapper, out fell a piece of paper. The mother picked it up and started to read it.
It said: Hi... I think you are really cute. Do you wanna go out with me? Love, Jacelyn
The mother opened another CD...
Again there was a piece of paper. It said: Hi... I think you are really cute. Do you wanna go out with me? Love, Jacelyn.