When you bear a grudge, your child will also bear a grudge.
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Grudges are carried over
There is a grudge that my children don’t treat me
The way I have treated my old parents.
There is grudge that my wife doesn’t regard me
The way my mother had done her husband.
The grudge is there that my juniors don’t revere
The way I have revered my seniors.
Such like grudges are carried over
Through generation after generation.
25.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I've had a few arguments with people, but I never carry a grudge. You know why? While you're carrying a grudge, they're out dancing.
quote by Buddy Hackett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Hold No Grudge
Angelo badalamenti, john clifford
I hold no grudge
Theres no resentment undneath
Ill extend the laurel wreath and well be friends
But right there is where it ends
I hold no grudge
And Ill forgive you your mistake
But forgive me if I take it all to heart
And make sure that it doesnt start again
Yes Im the kind of people
You can step on for a little while
But when I call it quits
Baby thats it
Im the kind of people
You can hurt once in a while
But crawling just aint my style
I hold no grudge
Deep inside me theres no regrets
But a gal whos been forgotten may forgive
But never once forget
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The grudge, meaningless
Though brooded, hatched, fed and cared
by the crow,
No koel shows any gratitude to its foster
mother,
For which no crow broods any grudge
against the koels.
Must you grudge one for ones ingratitude?
23.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Only for you
I can bear any insult
I can bear any misdeed
I can bear any oppression
I can bear the wounds of love or
Those of hatred
I can bear everything
But only for you God
Only for you.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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The Lost Teddy
Once there was a little child who loved her teddy bear
She always has her teddy bear near her.
Her teddy bear keeps her happy when she’s asleep
The little child was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth
When a little fairy came in and took the little child’s teddy away
To a far away castle that no one knows about it
When the little child had finished doing her teeth, she notice her teddy was missing
She looked everywhere for the teddy
She was crying when she went to her mommy
The little fairy putted the little child’s teddy back on her bed
The little child went up to her bedroom thinking that her teddy was lost forever
But when she got to her bedroom, she saw her teddy lying at the end of the bed
She was so happy that she slept very well.
poem by Jessica Bousfield
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Brethren
BRETHREN; if a man be at fault
Ye which are spiritual restore such
In the spirit of meekness; consider yourself
Lest ye be tempted much.
BRETHREN; speak not evil one of another
For in this your brother you judge
And speak evil of the law -
But love will not bear a grudge.
BRETHREN; finally I say,
'Be ye all of one mind
having compassion one of another
be pitiful, courteous and kind'
Ephesians 6: 1-9
poem by Richard Merrell
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The Grizzly Bear
The Grizzly Bear is huge and wild
It has devoured the little child.
The little child is unaware
It has been eaten by the bear.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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The Beggar's Child
MAVOURNEEN, we'll go far away
From the net of the crooked town
Where they grudge us the light of the day.
Around my neck you will lay
Two tight little arms of brown.
Mavourneen, we'll go far away
From the net of the crooked town.
And what will we hear on the way?
The stir of wings up and down
In nests where the little birds stay!
Mavourneen, we'll go far away
From the net of the crooked town
Where they grudge us the light of the day.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Dinka, the good neighbours
Are the most peace-loving lions
Are the most war-loving lions
On the globe in past, present and future
If you’ are more peaceful animals
They are the most peaceful animals
If you more warlike animals
They are the most warlike animals
They love Caucasians, Negroes and Mongolians
But they hate cattle rushers of any race
They love all others animals
But they hate cattle eating animals
They love war like men love women
They hate war like mankind hate
Hunger/diseases/ thirsty
If you provocate /declare war on
They dance to the tune of the song
They don’t forget for million years
About a grudge/ war
Grudge doesn’t finish in their mind
War doesn’t woodworm
Children are borne for grudge
Be peaceful to them and they will be peaceful to you
Be violent to them and they will be violent to you
They like joking sport spears and run game with buffaloes, elephants etc.
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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This Grudge
14 years
30 minutes
15 seconds
I've held this grudge
11 songs
4 full journals
thoughts of punishment I've expended
not in contact, not a letter
such communication, telepathic
you've been vilified
used as fodder
you deserve a piece of every record
but who's it hurting now?
who's the one that's stuck?
who's it torturing now
with an antique knot in her stomach?
I wanna be big and let go
of this grudge that's grown old
all this time I've not known
how to rest this bygone
I wanna be soft and resolved
cleared slate and released
I wanna forgive for the both of us
like an abandoned house
dusty cupboard, furniture still intact
if i vist it now will i simple relive it?
somehow gratuitous?
but who's still aching now?
who's tired of her own voice?
who's it weighing down with no gift
from time of said healing?
I wanna be big and let go
of this grudge that's grown old
all this time I've not known
how to rest this bygone
I wanna be soft and resolved
cleared slate and released
I wanna forgive for the both of us
maybe as i cut the cord
veils will lift from my eyes
maybe as i lay this to rest
dead weight off my shoulders will rise
here i sit much determined
ever ill-equipped to draw this curtain
how this has enterained, validated
and has served me well
ever the victim
but who's done whining now?
who's ready to put down
this load i've carried longer than i had cared to remember?
I wanna be big and let go
of this grudge that's grown old
for the life of me I've not known
how to rest this bygone
I wanna be soft and resolved
cleared slate and released
I wanna forgive for the both of us.
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death
My body, eh? Friend Death, how now?
Why all this tedious pomp of writ?
Thou hast reclaimed it sure and slow
For half a century bit by bit.
In faith thou knowest more to-day
Than I do, where it can be found!
This shrivelled lump of suffering clay,
To which I am now chained and bound,
Has not of kith or kin a trace
To the good body once I bore;
Look at this shrunken, ghastly face:
Didst ever see that face before?
Ah, well, friend Death, good friend thou art;
Thy only fault thy lagging gait,
Mistaken pity in thy heart
For timorous ones that bid thee wait.
Do quickly all thou hast to do,
Nor I nor mine will hindrance make;
I shall be free when thou art through;
I grudge thee nought that thou must take!
Stay! I have lied; I grudge thee one,
Yes, two I grudge thee at this last,--
Two members which have faithful done
My will and bidding in the past.
I grudge thee this right hand of mine;
I grudge thee this quick-beating heart;
They never gave me coward sign,
Nor played me once the traitor's part.
I see now why in olden days
Men in barbaric love or hate
Nailed enemies' hands at wild crossways,
Shrined leaders' hearts in costly state:
The symbol, sign and instrument
Of each soul's purpose, passion, strife,
Of fires in which are poured and spent
Their all of love, their all of life.
O feeble, mighty human hand!
O fragile, dauntless human heart!
The universe holds nothing planned
With such sublime, transcendent art!
Yes, Death, I own I grudge thee mine
Poor little hand, so feeble now;
Its wrinkled palm, its altered line,
Its veins so pallid and so slow --
Ah, well, friend Death, good friend thou art;
I shall be free when thou art through.
Take all there is -- take hand and heart;
There must be somewhere work to do.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Habeas Corpus
1 My body, eh? Friend Death, how now?
2 Why all this tedious pomp of writ?
3 Thou hast reclaimed it sure and slow
4 For half a century bit by bit.
5 In faith thou knowest more to-day
6 Than I do, where it can be found!
7 This shrivelled lump of suffering clay,
8 To which I am now chained and bound,
9 Has not of kith or kin a trace
10 To the good body once I bore;
11 Look at this shrunken, ghastly face:
12 Didst ever see that face before?
13 Ah, well, friend Death, good friend thou art;
14 Thy only fault thy lagging gait,
15 Mistaken pity in thy heart
16 For timorous ones that bid thee wait.
17 Do quickly all thou hast to do,
18 Nor I nor mine will hindrance make;
19 I shall be free when thou art through;
20 I grudge thee nought that thou must take!
21 Stay! I have lied; I grudge thee one,
22 Yes, two I grudge thee at this last,--
23 Two members which have faithful done
24 My will and bidding in the past.
25 I grudge thee this right hand of mine;
26 I grudge thee this quick-beating heart;
27 They never gave me coward sign,
28 Nor played me once the traitor's part.
29 I see now why in olden days
30 Men in barbaric love or hate
31 Nailed enemies' hands at wild crossways,
32 Shrined leaders' hearts in costly state:
33 The symbol, sign and instrument
34 Of each soul's purpose, passion, strife,
35 Of fires in which are poured and spent
36 Their all of love, their all of life.
37 O feeble, mighty human hand!
38 O fragile, dauntless human heart!
39 The universe holds nothing planned
40 With such sublime, transcendent art!
41 Yes, Death, I own I grudge thee mine
42 Poor little hand, so feeble now;
43 Its wrinkled palm, its altered line,
44 Its veins so pallid and so slow --
* * * (Unfinished here.)
45 Ah, well, friend Death, good friend thou art;
46 I shall be free when thou art through.
47 Take all there is -- take hand and heart;
48 There must be somewhere work to do.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Bear up, my child, bear up; Zeus who oversees and directs all things is still mighty in heaven.
The mother and the artist
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling
instant of robustly blessed existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbreakably Omnipotent desire; every unfurling
instant of victoriously effulgent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unceasingly reinvigorating fantasy; every
unfurling minute of poignantly charismatic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of insurmountably intrepid enchantment; every
unfurling minute of rhapsodically unhindered existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Omnisciently tranquil serenity; every unfurling
instant of endlessly bestowing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of perpetually fragrant breath; every unfurling
instant of Omnipresently benevolent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Immortally ardent love; every unfurling instant
of limitlessly fructifying existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fantastically alleviating poetry; every
unfurling instant of boundlessly splendid existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fabulously effervescent tanginess; every
unfurling instant of spiritually uplifting existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unlimitedly enlightening Sunshine; every
unfurling instant of infallibly luminescent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of immaculately godly melody; every unfurling
instant of amiably melanging existence,
Because. And Only Because. A Mother is; has and shall for times immemorial
remain the Greatest Sculptor of every organism on this astoundingly
multiplying Universe; A Mother is the Greatest Artist….
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Vanquish
July 21,2009 9: 22 pm
It makes you curse, it makes swear
It makes you mad, roar like a bear
It feels hot when you keep it in
But when released, can damage the living
A dog was kicked around his back
Respect had gone, he made an attack
Relentless master shocked with the sting
Everyone is not equal to the law of being
Rush of blood from the pleasant plains
Rise up to the vines of smelting veins
Heartbeats haste with every word
Intent to hurt is against the world
Breathing it in, blowing it out
Expressing the truth can’t bear the shout
Unless compulsions were given a chance
Grudge will remain behind shallow pangs
Out of virtue, comes to rest
Just to overcome temptations’ breath
A sight of the trigger ignites it all
Words of the devil, the ear concludes it all
As the keys were hit, punched are codes
Urge to curse and hurt, born this sort of ode
A deep breath could seal vanquish in
With the help of God, perish is the devil within
July 21,2009 10: 15pm
Don Juans Song
The moon is in an ecstasy,
It wanes not nor can grow ;
The heavens are in a mist of love,
And deepest knowledge know :
What things in nature seem to move
Bear love as I bear love ?
And bear my pleasures so?
I bear my love as streams that bear
The sky still flow or shake :
Though deep within, too far on high.
Light blossoms kiss and wake
The waters sooner than the sky ;
And if they kiss and (lie
God made them frail to break.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Having many is not a bonus
Parents love and offer vary
As need based to children
Children expect uniformity.
Here lies the tussle.
In the end, parents’ love is in vain.
Each child will have a grudge
So, have only one child.
14.07.2001 Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Twice Times
There were Two Little Bears who lived in a Wood,
And one of them was Bad and the other was Good.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times One -
But Bad Bear left all his buttons undone.
They lived in a Tree when the weather was hot,
And one of them was Good, and the other was Not.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Two -
But Bad Bear's thingummies were worn right through.
They lived in a Cave when the weather was cold,
And they Did, and they Didn't Do, what they were told.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Three -
But Bad Bear never had his hand-ker-chee.
They lived in the Wood with a Kind Old Aunt,
And one said 'Yes'm,' and the other said 'Shan't!'
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Four -
But Bad Bear's knicketies were terrible tore.
And then quite suddenly (just like Us)
One got Better and the other got Wuss.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Three -
But Bad Bear coughed in his hand-ker-chee!
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Two -
But Bad Bear's thingummies looked like new.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times One -
But Bad Bear never left his buttons undone.
There may be a Moral, though some say not;
I think there's a moral, though I don't know what.
But if one gets better, as the other gets wuss,
These Two Little Bears are just like Us.
For Christopher remembers up to Twice Times Ten ...
But I keep forgetting where I put my pen.*
* So I have had to write this one in pencil.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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My Mind to me a Kingdom is
My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such perfect joy therein I find
That it excels all other bliss
Which God or nature hath assign'd.
Though much I want that most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely port, nor wealthy store,
No force to win a victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to win a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall,--
For why? my mind despise them all.
I see that plenty surfeit oft,
And hasty climbers soonest fall;
I see that such as are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all.
These get with toil and keep with fear;
Such cares my mind can never bear.
I press to bear no haughty sway,
I wish no more than may suffice,
I do no more than well I may,
Look, what I want my mind supplies.
Lo ! thus I triumph like a king,
My mind content with anything.
I laugh not at another's loss,
Nor grudge not at another's gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss;
I brook that is another's bane.
I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend,
I loathe not life, nor dread mine end.
My wealth is health and perfect ease,
And conscience clear my chief defence;
I never seek by bribes to please,
Nor by desert to give offence.
Thus do I live, thus will I die,--
Would all did so as well as I!
poem by Sir Edward Dyer
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