When the cat's stomach is full, the rat's back is bitter.
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When ego is fed…
Someone would remember me:
My stomach goes full.
Someone would be grateful to me:
My stomach goes full.
Someone would broadcast of me:
My stomach goes full.
Someone would long for me:
My stomach goes full.
Whenever ego gets food,
The stomach is fed without food.
05.05.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stomach with food
Dont full
Fill your stomach...at
Food...
Stomach is
Full fill
The food...
Only at only
With waste of
Basket...
Making
At your stomach...
Drink...
Eat...
A llways
With your stomach
Limet... limet...
Healf stomach
Is good...
Bada full food
Eating...
Mothley once
ok...
Every day
Not better for
Your body health...
Diside to eat food...
Daily...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stomach cry
Eat
Too
Eat...
Stomach was full
Not stand
Not sit
Not walk...
Waa waa
Marrage dinner...
Mind happy
Stomach on
Body is crying...
With up
And down
with gas..ss..
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Literary Method
His poems Riley says that he indites
Upon an empty stomach. Heavenly Powers,
Feed him throat-full: for what the beggar writes
Upon his empty stomach empties ours!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Win A Prize
Run the race and win a prize,
For the food is for the stomach and the stomach is for food;
But i will live on always to see you grow.
Slow, glow, blow, flow;
That which was empty is now full,
But he who joins himself to a prostitute is in one body with her.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not A Story!
The needle sharp spikes can poke and puncture,
The subtle young skin, it entered quietly to adventure,
Below the blouse and on the stomach, crawling upward,
At The place of worship, where everyone was quiet and downward,
Hundreds of pins started to prick slowly and steadily,
Could not move and scream for help as It was the house of God,
Spitting the bitter fluid on its way, below the pinafore,
It made the victorious journey to the neck to smell and sneer,
When the warden dismissed and everyone was out,
She separated her hands that were clasped at the chest,
To retrieve the visitor from the back of the neck,
It was a green caterpillar with pins and spikes,
Everyone was shocked to see the trail mark,
From the stomach to the ten years old young neck's back,
She has learned the lesson of patience on that day,
And let soon to be a butterfly on the young leaves.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whore
Stomach is making
Whore...?
Whore is making a
Sex...
Not...
Life making a sexy
whore with out money...
whore is not sex...
Sex is life...
Whore do only is
Wonder full earn with
Full fill the stomach...
Give to bad Sex....? ? ?
or good sex...! ! ! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Keep Pushing That Bash Back
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.
You keep pushing that bash back.
You keep pushing that bash back.
You keep pushing that bash back.
Don't drag that bashing or be tagged.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You can push that bitter bash back.
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You just keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep on pushing,
That bash back!
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Craving Of The Flesh
when i write this
i am full, my stomach bloats
i am holding something
inside me
with all restraintand if i do not follow
the law of
expulsion
i may die of this
poison
i must empty
what is here inside
to make me feel well
there is poetry in my head
poetry in my stomach
soon
if i keep them and not let them
go out
i may die
and so here i am
noting this metaphor of expulsion
to let you know
that i cannot stop writing
for health reasons and not
for anything else
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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(V - 2004) The Lad who was called Mad
People called him mad.
Many a days
He came to my mother
He would then say
‘There is fire in my stomach’
My mother would then hurry her cooking
Soon she would serve
Rice and curry
Spiced with love and care.
He would eat to his full
And at the very next door
He would again say
‘There is fire in my stomach –
I am hungry still’
And so one day
I looked deep into him
Wondered what his hunger was for
And saw fire in his heart.
Still, he little knew that
He simply said, ‘there is fire in my stomach’
And people called him mad.
He was a sensitive lad
Some had led him astray
So he lost his senses,
Lost his way
And people called him mad.
This hurt him more
Still he had them guide him.
So, finally one day
Into the temple pond
He drowned himself
To quell for ever
The fire in him
And then the people
Who had called him mad
Said with pity, ‘Oh, how sad! ’
Outside
They took away
my money and bag
took away my
house and land
lay me on the sand.
I am here
near ganga
and in empty stomach.
I am here
near mahodadhi
and in empty stomach.
I am here
looking Nilachakra
alldays always
in empty stomach.
They snatch away
may language
They thrown me out
from the sky
they are my nearby.
who is there
outside my house
where is my earth
where is my worth.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Young & The Old
Whoa oh
Staggering home everybody sings
All the old songs the cockney routines
All the old women, all the young men
Try changing places then back again
Old man in the morning,
Young man at night
Breakfast full of wisdom
Until you hit the lights
Knock back the drinks , hitch up your skirt
Fall over backwords undo your shirt
Everyone shouting what a terrible state
Age creeping backwards as it gets late
Old man in the morning,
Young man at night
Breakfast full of wisdom
Until you hit the lights
Have a quick short, forget about work
Have a couple more then you go beserk
Who cares about this morning, wise old man
The wisdom comes up later and goes down the pan
Old man in the morning,
Young man at night
Breakfast full of wisdom
Until you hit the lights
Then another round, forget whos turn
Waking up to feel your stomach churn
Whos in the chair and whos on the floor
Incoherants knocking on the door
Old man in the morning,
Young man at night
Breakfast full of wisdom
Until you hit the lights
Hit the lights
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Love Poem) Bitter Sweet Rose
Bitter sweet rose will you be mine?
Or am I wasting my time?
Bitter sweet rose you smell divine.
Do you have a succulent kiss?
Is it something I've already missed?
Bitter sweet rose what gives?
Is it how we must live?
Bitter sweet rose will you answer my questions?
Are you devote?
Do you stray when your bored?
Will you doubt?
Is what you want something more?
Bitter sweet rose are you keeping score?
Will you try something new?
Will you lock your door?
Do your lips taste like dew?
Bitter sweet rose do you want to go?
Do you love the snow?
Is this right?
Is this what you want tonight?
Bitter sweet rose, oh my bitter rose.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Are we serving others for a living?
If I want to drink,
I can hold,
two hands full.
If I want to eat,
I can fill,
one mouth full.
If I want to breathe,
I can fill,
two lungs full.
If I want to fill,
I can fill,
One stomach full.
We are filling up something,
all our life without thinking,
filling is not a simple process:
fulfilling the needs of others,
may make us the true human being,
as our hands for repetitive doing,
our minds for constant caring,
our hearts for intense loving and
our existence for simple serving.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You can say anything to a man with a full stomach.
Bitter End
Since were feeling so anesthetised
In our comfort zone
Reminds me of the second time
That I followed you home
Were running out of alibis
From the second of may
Reminds me of the summer time
On this winters day
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
Every step we take thats synchronized
Every broken bone
Reminds me of the second time
That I followed you home
You shower me with lullabies
As youre walking away
Reminds me that its killing time
On this fateful day
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
From the time we intercepted
Feels more like suicide...
See you at the bitter end
song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A full belly is not the stomach of a scholar.
The full stomach does not understand the empty one.