How we love sequestering, where no pests are pestering.
quote by Lorenz Hart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Has man got sanction?
The God governs all organisms.
Man eradicated many pests.
Pests are also organisms.
Has man got sanction to do it?
10.07.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I hope somebody hits .400 soon. Then people can start pestering that guy with questions about the last guy to hit .400.
quote by Ted Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Temptation
Don't keep
Pestering me
To chat with you
I don't want
Those moments
Of temptation…
Where I give in
To you, and then
Later regret…
Giving in to you.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Somehow, by just continually pestering the general public by appearing on television, they accepted me and wanted more.
quote by Chris Elliott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories
There are these sweet little pests
I wish they could be described as guests
Though they come, not at my behest
And I'm certain, not always in my interest.
Easily, they penetrate my mind's recess
Scurrying determinedly about their business
Bringing light to a grief darkened fortress
And renewing sensations with piercing newness
They bear gifts of warmth and succour presently
That aid the passage of time somewhat decently
And ease the ache in body and soul sufficiently
With remembrance of pleasures enjoyed recently
Of the comforting warmth felt when held
Of the liquid pleasure shared when lips meld
Of the sweetest discomfort with which we swelled
Of the exquisite love created when our bodies jelled.
Thank you dear friends for verity
That I now realize with clarity
If I am to get through my solitude with any dignity
I must have a store of memories for sanity
These pests have eased my pain
Their gifts have kept me sane
Coping with them, my bane
Until I see you again!
poem by Marilyn Odeon
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Whatever She Says
whatever she says
be it about sadness
or peace
or war and unhappiness
he did not mind
he is in the mountain
thinking
how the mosquitoes
are pestering him
and he cannot sleep
soon she will
be silent and then
he begins to write
his shorter poems
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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210
whatever she says
be it about sadness
or peace
or war and unhappiness
he did not mind
he is in the mountain
thinking
how the mosquitoes
are pestering him
and he cannot sleep
soon she will
be silent and then
he begins to write
his shorter poems
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Separation- a blessing
Being away from his wife,
He recalls how she has lulled him.
Being with her wife,
He feels how she is pestering him.
Separation is a blessing
for rejuvenation.
19.07096
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Duck Point Of View
when a man feeds a number of ducks
on the river
he thinks of the money and the meat
and the eggs
setting aside the noisy quacks
and the pestering constant
call for attention,
i wonder how the ducks see the man
his demonstrative care and charity?
did they see him as God?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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pests attack most crops
farmer-raised by fore-head sweat
middle-men do same
quote by by John Celes
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Dad on the Test
I reckon (said Dad) that the country's pests
Is this here wireless an' these here Tests.
Up to the house and around the door,
Stretchin' their ears for to catch the score,
Leavin' the horses down in the crop.
Can you wonder that a farmer goes off pop?
I'm yellin' at Jim or I'm cursin' at Joe
All hours of the day; but it ain't no go -
Leavin' their work and hangin' around
When they think I'm down at the fallow ground;
Sneaking away when I start to rouse,
An' as soon as me back's turned, back to the house.
'Who got Wyatt? Is Sutcliffe out?'
Wot do they care if I rave an' shout?
Bribin' young Bill for to leave his job
To twiddle the switches an' twist the knob.
'Has he made his century? Who's in now?'…
And I bought that machine for the price of a cow!
There's a standin' crop, an' the rain's not far,
An' the price is rotten, but there you are:
As soon as these cricketin' games begin
The farm goes dilly on listenin' in;
Not only the boys an' the harvester crew,
But Mum an' the girls gits dotty too.
An' I reckon (says Dad) that a man's worst pests
Is this here wireless and these here Tests.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Carbon Sinks
I think that I shall never see
a better Carbon Sink than M.I.T.’s
It helps keep green house gas at bay
By sequestering it away
The Carbon Sink works like a tree
but does it more efficiently
When trees in wintertime are bare
The Carbon Sink still cleans the air
And trees can yield up carbon once again
When Forest fires make them burn
Poems are made by fools like me
But Carbon Sinks are made by M.I.T
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Pests of the society
A critic is a non-performer;
A trader is a non-producer.
A preacher is a non-practitioner
A mediator is a non-fact finder.
They are the pests of the society
20.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Pests Of The Society
A critic is a non-performer;
A trader is a non-producer.
A preacher is a non-practitioner
A mediator is a non-fact finder.
They are the pests of the society
20.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Regrets reaped
The harvests have been less than seeds sown,
Sometimes nil, land turning barren,
And sometimes lost due to the pests
In the end, each reaps bundles of regrets.
13.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Breaking A Promise
i promised myself
not to open this pc
and not to write a poem
hardheaded
here i am again
irritating you
no rules, no form,
no grace, no beauty,
no meter, no count
insensitive, unbearable,
persistent, pestering,
pondering, and always
on the themes of
black, shapeless,
starless, moonless
dark, cold, and damp.
i break promises.
but i do not curse.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ars Poetica Redux
Dying trees fall easily.
Poems, too, as they should.
Dead wood rots from which
One good poem may grow,
The better to hear in the higher
Branches, the creaking lower limbs.
Sequestering lovers late afternoon
Whisper. One is carving the bark,
A crude heart with names within.
Now unread, unspoken but for the overgrown
Path, a bark-less scar now where was the heart,
Without thought, without desire, write only this,
'How arms entwine, how branches break'.
poem by Warren Falcon
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Where Are Your Roses
Tell me friends, where are your roses?
A blooming rose pricks me with its horn andI let a cry sweet,
”Oh rose I love you”.
In this garden of pests and reptiles
Who grows this rose of just one thorn?
That is born to prick me alone?
Never do I get an answer
But the gardener throws a smile at me.
He thinks that I love this rose.
An idea springs off at last and
An answer redeems me at times.
There is no rose without a thorn.
Tell me friends, where are your roses?
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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An Experience with a Crazy Old Woman...
at the first glance
an old woman
well dressed
does not appear to
be what she really is:
insane
perhaps because of too much sorrow
over land
or perhaps she cannot accept
the reality
of children leaving finally
old mothers
she talked a lot
and we all compromised out of respect
for old age
wisdom is obviously
absent
she had become a pestering parrot
a hissing snake
a shouting monkey
we called the police to throw her out
we all look at ourselves
freed from all guilt
we no longer wonder
what children are for...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Let Go that Stress.
Relax, let go that pestering stress, forgive and forget
All who opposed you in the past and made you upset.
They are nothing, only the shadow of your own fear,
Do not give them power over you,
Eventually they will disappear.
It is not easy to let go your fear,
It tries to hunt you constantly, you must be brave like a bear.
Strive to find beauty and happiness in every moment,
Know that oppositions are just trials in life
They are never permanent.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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