A widow, like a widower, is a house without a roof.
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Widower is hopeless
A widow is the pod shed seed.
A widower is the seed spilled pod.
Seed can remain; pod disintegrates.
A widower is the most unfortunate.
07.03.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Victorious if not meritorious.
A boy wooed a girl. No wonder.
A lord coaxed a maid. No wonder.
A man hooked an estranged woman
Or a widow is courted. No wonder.
Love between a widow and a widower
Sparks and so does the extra marital sex
When they have grown beyond the age..
A man past the age won the love of a woman, a young mother of rpute.
It is the wonder of wonders,
worth reminiscing and ruminating.
24.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A House Without Stairs
do not say
that without the stairs
the house is not a house anymore
without the ceiling
the more the house becomes to me
take the roof
if you want
or the beams
or even the floor and window frames
my house will still be a house
the sky its roof
the stretching grassy plain its floor
all the stars become
my magnificent ceiling
whatever is taken
we must imagine that all things are still there
lest we only have a house
that crashes on the floor
with all of us
dead
crushed to the death of
our imaginations
a door without an exit
because you have not seen hope coming
the lock and key
are all in the mind and heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ask not
Ask not a question
Of not to love and be loved
All over again
And let no widow & widower
Tell a white
Lie.
Love unceasingly loves and will not
Recognize bad endings
Love is never meant to be sad.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Woman is not gregarious.
There was a couple, who lived for many years,
Inseparable and indispensable.
No sooner was she dead than he married another.
Inseparable and indispensable, he found her.
A widow can be alone.
A widower feels lonely.
21.10.2000
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Bringin Da Noise
Bringin' da noise
Bring down the house
We came here to turn the party out
Say come on come on
Let's raise the roof
Forget the roof
Then we can get loose ya'll
Bringin' da noise
Bring down the house
We came here to turn the party out
Say come on come on
Let's raise the roof
Forget the roof
Then we can get loose ya'll
JC:
We need to get down
The scene is set so right
Everybodies in the house tonight
Lose your mind
Let your body take control
You've got to feel it in your soul
I've got that feeling baby
You know it drives me crazy
And all I wanna do is hit the floor
I wanna shout at ya'll
So make it louder ya'll
JC:
And turn it up some more
Bringin' da noise
Bring down the house
We came here to turn the party out
Say come on come on
Let's raise the roof
Forget the roof
Then we can get loose ya'll
Bringin' da noise
Bring down the house
We came here to turn the party out
Say come on come on
Let's raise the roof
Forget the roof
Then we can get loose ya'll
Bringin' da noise
Bringin' da noise
JC:
Just shake it girl
And enjoy the ride
Do what you feel inside
Cause it's your world
All you want and more
So baby go and get yours
I've got that feeling baby
You know it drives me crazy
And all I wanna do is hit the floor
I wanna shout at ya'll
So make it louder ya'll
And turn it up some more (more more more)
Bringin' da noise
Bring down the house
We came here to turn the party out
Say come on come on
Let's raise the roof
Forget the roof
Then we can get loose ya'll
Bringin' da noise
Bring down the house
We came here to turn the party out
Say come on come on
Let's raise the roof
Forget the roof
Then we can get loose ya'll
Bringin' da noise
Bringin' da noise
Bringin' da noise
Bringin' da noise
I've got that feeling baby
You know it drives me crazy
And all I wanna do is hit the floor
Bringin' da noise
Bring down the house
We came here to turn the party out
Say come on come on
Let's raise the roof
Forget the roof
Then we can get loose ya'll x6
Echo: Whaaaat
song performed by by N Sync
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Backbite
A widower comes asking
For new seedlings
Of sexy pink
His old jeep parks
His young handsome
Driver
Comes his name is
Mark
Both of them smells
Musk
Something’s musky
Something needs
To be explained
But you understand
This widower at
60 needs a
Young boy like the
Greek Plato
To appease his
Philosophical sense
About loneliness
The good, the beautiful
And yes
The truth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From The Terrace
White house
brown roof
windows with outsretched arms
speak to my eyes
urging acceptance
Walls lift roof to gray sky
breeze flowing through the columns
floor, not for walking
but for ascending
request my steps
to be uplifted
Arches curve upwards
and downwards
dancing like the waves
invite me to join
all is in place
all agog with excitement
My soul flutters
knees buckle
and answer no
to House built with greed
not sweat of labour
Here I stay
on the terrace
watching house
not Home
blocks and roof
not sweat and contentment
poem by Mark Nwagwu
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Spider Slayer
She donned petite cover-alls of black
(To brave dark place 'neath the house)
When black widow walked 'cross her hand
Raised a ball-peen hammer, and...
The hapless widow she did whack!
'Take that you pesky louse'
poem by Ray Lucero
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Visalakshi
Her husband is dead.
Tragic or pleasing news!
That too in a car accident.
She was my love five decades back.
Our sojourn was a month
In her village where I chanced to stay.
Loveliness and gracefulness
Combined, she was a lotus.
No wonder, I loved her.
It is wonder, she loved me.
She loved me more
Than I loved her, the poor.
Her love was pure and genuine.
My love was daring and fast.
Our eyes crossed and then talked.
Our lips talked and then touched.
It is the virgin love for the both.
She sanctioned my visit once
To her house and to the room
Where we were closeted.
She believed me to such extent
That she conceded to be undraped
And surrendered to my trust.
Too tender in age, I deserted her.
It took three decade for me
To trace her and meet her.
Then she was not a lotus
But reminded me of a cactus,
Aging being prominent.
Now she is a widow.
I am not a widower.
Otherwise, I would have wiped
The sin I committed to her.
31.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Upstairs In My House
No one knows what I can see and and what I see it pleases me on my roof
South pacific hot sea pool, coney island amusement school for mispent youth
Its all in my own front yard, seagulls grazing in the park and foreshore
South-east wind pins back my ears, luna park lights up the years of painless days
I like it, upstairs in my house
Dealers selling junk and trash, people spend their hard earned cash on sundays
Its quiet when they fade away, westgate bridge breakes up the day, into red sky
I like it, upstairs in my house, upstairs in my house
No one knows what I can see and what I see it pleases me on my roof
I like it, upstairs in my house, upstairs in my house
song performed by by Men At Work
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Illogical Dream
it rains ash on the roof
all the residents hide in fear
and then it stops
a child climbs the roof
opens his mouth and lets his tongue
taste the ash
there is something inside it
the child calls his mother
saying it tastes like shrimps
and so all the people climb the house
stays on the roof and
had their feasts
that whole day when the sun
never shines.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song For Heroes
Captain O’Hare was a mariner brave;
He refused to abandon his ship;
A hero, he sleeps in a watery grave—
And his widow is now Mrs. Bipp,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Bipp!
Henri Dupont was a fearless young ace;
Five thousand feet up he was hit;
Each year on his grave pretty flowers we place—
And his widow is now Mrs. Schmitt,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Schmitt!
Corporal Dunn was a volunteer bold;
He plunged in the deadliest fray;
A bayonet thrust laid him out stony cold—
And his widow is now Mrs. Gray,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Gray!
But Peter McGuck was a cowardly sneak,
Like a hound he remained home in fear;
When fishing one day he fell into the creek—
And his widow is now Mrs. Greer,
Haw! Haw! Haw!
Mrs. William O’Houlihan Greer!
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Black Knight's Song
Knight And Wamba
There came three merry men from south, west, and north,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
To win the Widow of Wycombe forth,
And where was the widow might say them nay?
The first was a knight, and from Tynedale he came,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
And his fathers, God save us, were men of great faine,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Of his father the laird, of his uncle the squire,
He boasted in rhyme and in roundelay;
She bade him go bask by his sea-coal fire,
For she was the widow would say him nay.
Wamba
The next that came forth, swore by blood and by nails,
Merrily sing the roundelay;
Hur's a gentleman, God wot, and hur's lineage was of Wales,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Sir David ap Morgan ap Griffith ap Hugh
Ap Tudor ap Rhice, quoth his roundelay;
She said that one widow for so many was too few,
And she bade the Welshman wend his way.
But then next came a yeoman, a yeoman of Kent,
Jollily singing his roundelay;
He spoke to the widow of living and rent,
And where was the widow could say him nay?
Both
So the knight and the squire were both left in the mire,
There for to sing their roundelay;
For a yeoman of Kent, with his yearly rent,
There never was a widow could say him nay.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Black Widow
I just love my nightmares
I cant wait to sleep
Enjoying all my dreams
Got no regrets
I can be a flash of lightning
Striking down on rocks
Burning down the law
Getting things I never got
Turning the world
Nothing unheard
One night can be more than a day
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
I cant stand the dreamers
Scared of things that fly
They just have sweet fantasies
And fade and die
Nightmares - are so good, so good
And they always end just when they should
Nightmares are cool, nightmares are cruel
I love the fun and the thrill
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
Black widow
Just like a black widow
Here comes the morning
And who can deny
Leaving the dream is so hard
I love my nightmares
I await their return
And this time, Im dressed to kill, dressed to kill
Just like a black widow............
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The trajectory started when I was on the roof of our house looking out at a swamp when I was 19. I had written for several years, starting at about 15, but that day on the roof I took my vows and acknowledged my calling.
quote by Jim Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Exile House
EXILE HOUSE
Our tiled roof dripped
and the four walls threatened to fall apart
but we were to go home soon,
We grew papayas
in front of our house
chillies in our garden
and changmas for our fences,
then pumpkins rolled down the cowshed thatch
calves trotted out of the manger,
grass on the roof,
beans sprouted and
climbed the vines,
money plants crept in through the window,
our house seems to have grown roots.
The fences have grown into a jungle,
now how can I tell my children
where we came from?
Changmas – a tree usually planted for fences; flexible and flourishing
poem by Tenzin Tsundue
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Sonnet: The Widow’s/Widower’s Life
I wonder how a widow young does spend
Her life without any sex indulgence;
Against a cruel world how does she fend,
With children live? Her life can be so tense.
Nor can she marry yet another man!
Society does not accept this with ease;
She keep away from adultery, How can?
Can masturbation give her mental peace?
The widower’s lot is a lot better!
He weds a wife again without much fuss;
With children tho’, he is in no fetter;
The problem’s great if it does affect us!
And so, such men, women just tend to live,
In sins of flesh for peace it can now give!
poem by John Celes
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Husband's exit
Widow comes in existence with husband's exit
Painful memories to last with shaky feet
Whole life is in dark with no solution in sight
Life becomes burden and nothing goes right
Woman has some satisfaction if husband has gone away
He may return one day even if found another way
Widow is strictly not called with his exit from life
She stands legally as his estranged wife
Widower stage to felt if something is committed in excess
If husband is beating daily and provides no access
Sexual harassment followed by cruel treatment
Husband is buried alive in mind with resentment
It is living hell for woman to accept status of widow
No option is left for her to think of another window
It is dark future and unbelievable forecast for tomorrow
Nothing to think of world but keep quiet and lie low
Woman has tolerance power and world has acknowledged
She has come out of dark and at least without him managed
No one has dared to defy his womanhood for simple reason
That she is symbol of courage and well understood person
If men ever thinks that women can be played around
And desert them at will to be no where found
It is grave mistake and to be taken into count
Without woman it is almost difficult to mount
If woman is encouraged to show some guts
She may prove exceptionally talented figure, but
She has to be equally respected for her weak character
Now at least time has changed for her to show as formidable character
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Foot-Hill Resort
Assembled in the parlor
Of the place of last resort,
The smiler and the snarler
And the guests of every sort
The elocution chap
With rhetoric on tap;
The mimic and the funny dog;
The social sponge; the money-hog;
Vulgarian and dude;
And the prude;
The adiposing dame
With pimply face aflame;
The kitten-playful virgin
Vergin' on to fifty years;
The solemn-looking sturgeon
Of a firm of auctioneers;
The widower flirtatious;
The widow all too gracious;
The man with a proboscis and a sepulcher beneath.
One assassin picks the banjo, and another picks his teeth.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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