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Puddins and paramours should be hetly handled.
Anxiety About The Post Death
How your progeny grows and branches
Is beyond your knowledge after death.
How people, loyal to you and to whom
You’d been, are helpful to your children
Also is beyond your comprehension.
How the things you handled, will be handled
By your progeny is a dilemma.
These pains worry you about the death.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunting, hawking, and paramours, for one joy an hundred displeasures.
The Cuddling
Cuddling is in demand
Between paramours
And between lovers
And ceases with sex licensed.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Carrying saut to dysart and puddings to tranent.
I don't count them to you, wife, but a hog makes twelve puddings.
They who don't kill pigs must not expect black-puddings.
5. School Dinners
I remember in the fifties, I stayed for my school dinners
At six sided tables, with six chairs to match
I remember on walls, having all the art class winners
Whilst the dinner ladies served our food by batch
I remember lots of water, in a very large glass jug
With a glass for every diner in its place
I remember as I poured, it would give out a sudden glug
Causing droplets that would often hit your face
I remember smelly cabbage, with lots of lumpy mash
A tray sliced up with equal bits of pie
I remember thick brown gravy, it landed with a splash
That could blind you if it got you in the eye
I remember all the puddings, with custard steaming hot
You could only have if finishing your greens
I remember all the groaning as we finished off the lot
And the sickly taste from piles of butter beans
I remember taking turns, to have the custards skin
Had to scrape it off before the stuff would pour
I remember in the fifties, that none of us were thin
As the puddings kept us going back for more
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Consensual sex
Sexual adultery is consensual sex;
Yet men are alert to punish it out
As they see in other women their wives
And in men paramours, from jealousy
I shall deny you
What I’m denied; .
How can you indulge
That I couldn’t myself?
14.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ms Luna Is Ticked
Luna...
Ticked!
We keep Ms Luna...
Ticked!
And she has handled...
It!
By stirring up the waters.
And on us storm.
Luna...
Ticked!
We keep Ms Luna...
Ticked!
And she has handled...
It!
By controlling all the fluids.
And to us she's gonna do it.
Luna...
Ticked!
We keep Ms Luna...
Ticked!
And she has handled...
It!
But she has tired of our wickedness.
And this has gotten to her quick.
She's tired of those things we've done,
Making her sick.
And getting to the bottom of it,
She's gon' let it rip!
Ms Luna...
Is ticked!
We keep Ms Luna...
Ticked!
She's tired of those things we've done,
Making her sick.
And getting to the bottom of it,
She's gon' let it rip!
By controlling all the fluids.
And to us she's gonna do it.
To convince,
Ms Luna...
Is ticked!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Vice and the wise
Friends turn killers, more than foes.
Accidents are killers, more than diseases
Paramours are killers, more than elopers.
The world has more by vice than the wise.
28.07.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Dismiss an affair
An affair need not spell
The end of a marriage.
An affair need not stand
In the way to a marriage.
Aren’t we men prepared
To be paramours?
07.10.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Always The 'Who' That Gets One Through
Those who set out to ruin lives,
Consciously.
To then awaken with guilt and expectations,
Consciously.
That an awaiting for a forgiveness given to exonerate them,
Is not on the minds of the ones...
Who have spent time on the other end,
Healing and mending from wounds consciously inflicted...
By those who assume a skipping away from their deeds done,
Is the same wish by someone who has forgiven to forget.
Especially when the suffering with pain is involved.
People may be seen to be completely 'restored' from sorrows.
If recovery actually is done to come.
However...
It was their faith and determination alone,
With a gritting of teeth that got them off their knees.
To remember every detail vividly,
As to how, when, where, why and who...
Put them there in the first place.
And it is ALWAYS...
Always the 'who' that gets one through a process,
Never to be forgotten.
'It's so good to see you healthy and fit.
I am glad you have forgiven me.
You have...haven't you?
Say something.
Why are you smiling? '
~No particular reason.
Just thinking of how I would have handled this,
Years ago.~
'Handled what? '
~My thoughts.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Is All About Us
13 wives for the kinf of Swaziland,
With oriental minds to respect his muse;
But it is all about us in Africa! !
Yourkshire Puddings,
With words from the Westminster Abbey! !
But this story is all about us in Africa;
And like your love dedicated to the king.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Get into the habit of asking yourself if what you are doing can be handled by someone else.
Magic Madness
Lost in a portrait I saw as a boy,
of posing flamingos and tropical sun.
Suzanne is calling from out of her window,
a sweet invitation for oranges and rum.
Dive in the dawn of her shimmering ways,
“Love me for ever”, she said,
or give me your power for only a day”,
then drove me right out of my head.
Magic Madness in the candle-light night
where raging fires burn to turn to coals
Magic Madness, silken, satin delight.
Hotly whispered pleading, “More, my baby, more…”
Magic Madness
Sway to the beckoning Spanish guitar,
castanets tapping a rhythm to me.
Angela moves like a dream coming answered
and slyly enchanting this man of the sea.
Sailing come morning and I must be there.
“Love me forever”, she cried,
or lie in my garden as long as you dare”,
then drove me right out of my mind.
Magic Madness in the candle-light night
where raging fires burn to turn to coals
Magic Madness, silken, satin delight.
Hotly whispered pleading, “More, my baby, more…”
Magic Madness
Fate fills the years, like wind in the main.
The boy grows to manhood then sails no more.
Valerie’s calling the children to supper,
wordlessly watching me watching the shore.
Madness comes on as the moon turns the tide,
“Come to me sailor, again.
Your harbor is waiting to take you inside
and magic will dance on the wind.”
Magic Madness in the candle-light night
where raging fires burn to turn to coals
Magic Madness, silken, satin delight.
Hotly whispered pleading, “More, my baby, more…”
Magic Madness
poem by A.D. Varrone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I was immature the way I handled the business. I saw myself as a tribune of the people.
quote by Ron Silver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think I have handled things pretty well last year and this. What I have to do now is try do it even better.
quote by Amelie Mauresmo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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