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All Hail My Dear Mistress I
My dear mistress
People comment on you
Even in my presence
Your love in me is hard to take away
People respect me
Because of you
Your succulent lips
Makes me go crazy
My dear mistress
Your love in me
Is like a precious seed planted
That is hard to uproot
My dear mistress
I am happy and sad
Because I fear for the future
That we missed out on each other
My dear mistress
Oh lord!
I wish you prepared her for me
To marry in future
I wish she mothered my future children
My dear mistress.
poem by Tolulope Modupe
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My Name Is Qalme-Tari
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Were I go
People will follow.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Were I go
Death follows.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
I bring death
Upon people of injustice.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Death for people of injustice.
Tyrants beware!
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Dictators beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Kidnapers beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Child abusers beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
For those of injustice
I am Death.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
For those of purity
I am Hope
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
The in just
Shall flee before me.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
The pure
Shall follow me.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
Were I go
People will flee.
Were I go
People will follow.
I am Qalme Tari Mistress of Death Nat. Norville.
Cretics Welcome
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
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Prejudice squints when it looks, and lies when it talks.
quote by Duchess de Abrantes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Husking Rice
husking rice
a child squints up
to view the moon
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Minus into minus
The chambermaid, as usual, made ready
The bedroom for her mistress and master
When the master’s eyes fell upon her shoulders,
That the mistress took note of the least.
Without any fuss, saw the mistress
The master lay his hand upon the shoulder
Of the maid. No rage, no jealousy.
She, the straying, rather felt relieved.
07.02.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Eternity
Pearl – drops
on your upper lip:
heat –
of a stand-off
between
inside and outside.
More spiritual
I become
forgetting
the black eye,
I want to go back
with empty hands.
My home
is far away,
doorless,
roofless,
where dark squints at the moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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The virtuousness
I doubt not the virtues of your mistress
But doubt your undue faith in her virtues.
Your confidence, not her reputation
Makes her virtuous, regardless of truth.
The one who suspects one’s mistress’ virtues
Makes her adulterous, regardless of truth,
And loses confidence to live with her.
Neither way is the mistress affected.
27.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The mistress
Mistresses save men from bad marriages.
Mistresses break marriages that are smooth.
However, the word mistress still suggests
A sleazy liaison devoid of respect.
To have mistress stems from carnal desire.
A triumph or extravaganza can induce.
Desire to conquer a new territory
That lets them sow wild oats there, rules in men.
Mistress is branded as other woman
And is hated by all other women,
However worth she is or however
Beneficial her connection is.
However, the society gives lineage
To the mistress who is popular or
Whose custodian is all powerful,
And hails their relationship, dumping wives.
Affluent mistresses aren’t branded
As a man stealer or a home wrecker.
Rather, their power of being a temptress
Gathers more charm and wipe out wives’ presence.
03.06.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Harsh Mistress
The call of the seagulls,
near the edge of the sea,
is the lure that attracts men
to their boats to test the sea.
Waves dance a beckoning call, their waters to explore.
Therefore, men set off in their boats
to answer the wandering call.
However, to many a man
the sea maybe a mistress,
to others it is their downfall.
The sea can be a harsh mistress,
to some who come to call,
as they make time there forever,
deep in that watery bed
The storms she creates,
when angry,
has sealed many good men,
to an eternal fate.
So be warned my friends,
before you fall for the siren’s call.
The sea can be a harsh mistress.
10 June 2007
poem by David Harris
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Sonnet 130: My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks,
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
That music hath a far more pleasing sound.
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
poem by William Shakespeare
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130)
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
poem by William Shakespeare
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She Knows Not
She is the mistress,
of his feelings.
Lay bare he does...
and stare out of heat mist windows.
Capturing moonlight,
on his skin with wishes to be touched.
She is the mistress,
of his feelings.
Unapologetic are rays carried,
from him he thrusts.
He trusts that she
will someday receive his yearning.
He burns in hunger longing...
And she knows not of his need!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Epilogue To 'She Stoops To Conquer
WELL, having stoop'd to conquer with success,
And gain'd a husband without aid from dress,
Still, as a Bar-maid, I could wish it too,
As I have conquer'd him, to conquer you:
And let me say, for all your resolution,
That pretty Bar-maids have done execution.
Our life is all a play, compos'd to please,
'We have our exits and our entrances.'
The First Act shows the simple country maid,
Harmless and young, of ev'ry thing afraid;
Blushes when hir'd, and, with unmeaning action,
'I hopes as how to give you satisfaction.'
Her Second Act displays a livelier scene --
Th' unblushing Bar-maid of a country inn,
Who whisks about the house, at market caters,
Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds the waiters.
Next the scene shifts to town, and there she soars,
The chop-house toast of ogling connoisseurs.
On 'Squires and Cits she there displays her arts,
And on the gridiron broils her lovers' hearts:
And as she smiles, her triumphs to complete,
Even Common-Councilmen forget to eat.
The Fourth Act shows her wedded to the 'Squire,
And Madam now begins to hold it higher;
Pretends to taste, at Operas cries 'caro',
And quits her 'Nancy Dawson', for 'Che faro',
Doats upon dancing, and in all her pride,
Swims round the room, the Heinel of Cheapside;
Ogles and leers with artificial skill,
'Till having lost in age the power to kill,
She sits all night at cards, and ogles at spadille.
Such, through our lives, the eventful history --
The Fifth and Last Act still remains for me.
The Bar-maid now for your protection prays.
Turns Female Barrister, and pleads for Bayes.
poem by Oliver Goldsmith
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Woman’s virtues
If you doubted your mistress’ virtues
She'd be adulterous though she’s not.
If you trusted your mistress’ virtues
She'd be virtuous though she’s not.
Thus you make your life a hell or a heaven.
Neither hell nor heaven would be her abode.
04.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Dunne Studying.
Dunne watches her mistress sleep.
There is the flickering of the eyelids
As if in dream. She gets out of bed
And with soft tread walks to her
Mistress’s bed side and looks down.
She holds her breath. She takes in
Each aspect of the face and neck
And how the hair is spread upon
The pillow. She wants to lean down
And kiss the lips, put flesh to flesh.
She hovers like some hawk waiting
To fly down and take her fine prey.
She breathes out slowly. She watches
The rise and fall of her mistress’s breast.
She moves out a hand to lay it there
But does not touch. She imagines so.
Imagines also climbing into the bed
And snuggling up close and kissing
The nape of neck. Her hand lingers
Over the breasts. Her eyes greedily
Study the soft cheek. She breathes
In deep. Her heart pounds within her
Breast. So near so near. She imagines
Lying within those arms and feeling
The hands caress her back. Her mistress
Stirs and she moves away. Walks back
To her own bed to await the light of day.
poem by Terry Collett
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She
She watches the TV,
She reads the book,
She writes beautifully.
She sings, she dances,
She plays Lego & Barbie.
As you can see
She goes about
The house, being a
Busybody!
I’m not free either ;)
I’m so busy watching her
As every activity of hers
Mesmerises me.
Her looks,
Her actions,
Her expressions,
Her stares and ogles,
She engages me
Intensely!
And I don’t want to
Miss any.
Lest she grows up
Quickly,
Scurries out of home
For me to miss her
Miserably: (
Yes, you’ve guessed it right!
She’s none other than my
Dearest, darling Kochi.
I love her being a
Little girl, you see :)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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The Mistress Of Depression
The subtle invite
Attracts one silently to the
Depths of poison.
Invitingly, enticingly this monstrosity
Of depression
Swallows the isolated air left in gasping lungs;
Air that at one time supplied
The energies needed to oppose the subtle Mistress.
Now we stand breathless
Gasping for a single dropp of air
Struggling to keep moving forward.
The Mistress donates air as she wills,
Yet only enough breath to keep us
Dangling on a thin spiders web.
We spin, we toil, we stretch, trying threads,
Only hoping to break a grip of iron
Welded to our heart.
The struggle continues,
The weariness grabs hold of weakened minds,
Resistant changes persistently take their toll
As the Mistress of Depression
Settles the score.
poem by Walt riopel
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Hello And Goodbye
Eva: Hello and goodbye I've just unemployed you
You can go back to school
You've had a good run I'm sure he enjoyed you
Don't act sad or surprised let's be friends civilized
Come on little one don't sit there like a dummy
The day you knew would arrive is here
You'll survive
So move Funny Face
I like your conversation you've a catchy turn of phrase
(to Peron)You're obviously going through some adolescent phase
Peron's mistress: So what happens now
So what happens now
Where am I going to
Peron: You'll get by you always have before
Peron's mistress: Where am I going to
Eva: Don't ask anymore
song performed by by Madonna from Evita Soundtrack (Part 1)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Above My Grassy Bed
above my grassy bed
a butterfly
perches on a daisy
sunshine pierces
wing-scrim of amber
squints my eyes
lulls me to slumber
beating beating things
raise my heartbeat
I rouse
the butterfly off
somewhere
in its stead
a buzzing bee
prompting me
off my grassy bed
to head home
musing where
that’ll be
years to come
and just where
the fancy-free
creature is
in metamorphosis
poem by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal
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Season of a Mistress
Mistress of a season's whim
The pale light of a morning hue
Begin this winters day
Quietly I step forth ahead and on
Into the eerie silence
My breath a vapour rises
To where a low sun shall climb
A coldness present
The wetness of dew
Almost frozen in time
A beauty is still found
In all that greets the eye and mind
Whilst the world succumbs once more
To the mistress of nature
To the mother of this earth
A season bows to her whim
poem by Matthew Holloway
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