Fatso & His Lady!
That mango tree was no normal
It got immense love so mortal
From dawn to dusk he watered
Hoping it is never left shattered
Plucking the fruits in noon
He sat by it with all bloom.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
What is it that brings that bloom
In this man so fat & hair so white
Was the thought that always rung
When I usually see him sing.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
My lady love sowed this seed
& fed to it her life
I cried cried & I cried
And one day she grew up
Through ground & this is it
He told with a whisper.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so immortal
Telling his tale of love
He had the last mango from it
He bore a smile on face
A tear in each eye
The seed in his palm.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
Inspite of it being watered
Although I gave utmost care
In no time it became dry
And in air remained only their love……..
poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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Under The Mango Tree
i like the idea
of doing many things under the mango tree
like
watching time go by like it is a stranger
and i
am a stranger too watching time pass by
like i am so interested
with what time
can do to me
making me old
making the mango tree bloom and flower and have fruits
and they are so many
that the mango tree bends
to the ground
and time stays for a while and ripens the fruits
and make all of them
in time
fall one by one to the ground
like some kind
of withered flowers
luscious, sweet, fruits of the mango tree
falling
by the slightest passing of the wind
and then the children
come and with all joy
pick them one by one
putting what they can
under
their shirts and still rushing
to keep
and take some more
under the mango tree
all the people
are so much alike
the rushing, the taking, the joy
of always having more
and it will never stop
as i watch time slowly go by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kajura
My love for you is like the big mango tree in my compound,
Upon which sits the monkey to look at you;
But i will follow you to Hew Guinea!
Of fowls, ducks, goats ans sheep to play in this compound;
And it is like the rice and chicken that you love to eat,
But we will sleep well under this mosquito net of love.
Don't worry my love,
For the centre of my compound is this mango tree!
And we should take life as it is around us,
For my love for you is like the big mango tree in my compound.
You and i have to accept this chronology and,
There is a place for us to sit and drink at times;
So come and drink a bottle of whisky with me tonight.
Kajura my love,
I want to tell you more about myself and more about life!
But the myth of love is all that hangs arouns us,
And i am the leader around here to lead you on.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sitting Here
Love,
Is it black or white?
Love,
Is it red or blue?
Sitting here lonely to understand the ways of love;
So tell me if you know the colour of love.
I am sitting here under a mango tree to think about it,
What is the colour of love?
Somebody should tell me now.
Love,
Is it green or yellow?
Love,
Is it brown or violet?
Oh what a lonely place to think about love!
The sun shines in all directions but,
The shade of this mango tree is my home;
Somebody should tell me the colour of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Mango Tree And The Children
the mango tree
blooms on the month
of May
fruits are heavy
soon
on all its branches
is opulence
Comes June
the children come
with their sticks
and slings
and stones
the mango tree is
hit once again
and all the fruits
fall to the
ground
the children
have all the fun
saliva flows from
tongues
dipping in
salt
as early as that
they know what fun is
by hurting those
that fruit so well
by taking the fruits
beyond
what they actually
need
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Boasting About Trees
There you stood among other trees
In a garden of legendary emeralds
Your luxuriant leaves waving to the heavens
You arresting branches kissing the sky
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
My enraptured eyes are still swimming in bliss
From the first time they saw you
Untouched, unspoiled and unsurpassed
Flora of such sublime character
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
My heart swims in the deluge of desire
Sweet songs of attraction, passion and fire
It is you that awakens my appetite
My dulcet cynosure
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
Others may boast of oranges and apples
Grapes and pears and pomegranates too
I will be silent until I talk of you
And from my lips will dropp the words
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
poem by Howard Simon
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Marilyn
I am dark and lovely,
And i live under a sweet mango tree with my muse;
I am bold and beautiful,
So come and taste some of the fruits of my love;
Like a walk through the markets of Thailand.
I am sweet and attractive,
Living closer to you with the muse of my love;
I am dark and lovely,
So come to me like a walk through the markets of Thailand!
For the sun shines on me under this mango tree.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Of Sheer Love
Fabulous,
Fantastic!
Exquisite composition;
My own feeble effort,
Your own feeble effort,
His own feeble effort,
Her own feeble effrot,
And on demand like the pleasures around us! !
But, i will expose my love to you under the mango tree.
To you,
To me,
To him,
To her,
To us! !
And, from the heart;
Of sheer love,
But, under the trees to expose my love to you.
Cattle, battle, wattle, rattle, tattle;
Love the one who loves you and love the one who hates you! !
And like the magic hands of peace across the Queen's land,
But, try to understand my mind in the land of your muse.
Of sheer love,
Forward, backward, ward, reward, afterward;
For, i now understand who you are,
But, under the mango tree i will expose my love to you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A cripple ant near a Mango tree
I have heard about the tasty fruit when it ripens
and the legend says lightning won't peep to your premises
if you grow a mango tree in your yard,
But I am very unhappy as I cannot climb on my neighbour's tree.
* I humbly dedicate this poem to the authoress of the novel 'The House on Mango street' written by Sandra.Cisneros.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Fruits Of Action
I am not here to pluck the mango even
I assured my mother.
Always my mother used to tell me
Never eat the mango from the tree
You planted.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Pencil Sketch
sometime in 1985
you sketched an eagle
beside an egg
its newly hatched carbon copy
you wrote there
'for another flight! '
(muling paglipad)
beside it is a computation
40 x 3 = 120
can't really figure out what that means
but one thing i am sure of
you miss those college days
when law was still new to you
when everybody was a complete stranger
now in the land of the snow
a mango seed is buried
but deep in my mind
i sense that difficulty thinking
how can a mango tree, if there shall ever be,
thrive on the harshness of the frost?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mango Tree In My Backyard
the mango tree in my backyard,
stand majestic and strong,
the first morning rays,
falling thro the leaves,
like myraid colorful beans, ,
chirping of bird is like melodious song,
parrat myna bulbul and so,
make upteem sounds,
squirrel jumping up and down,
the water dripping leaves inrain,
flutter of leaves while the breeze blow,
summer sun glows like orange ball,
but the cool breeze of the tree gives a relief,
the mango tree saw us grow,
know our grief and all our sorrow,
the majestic tree gave us support and peace,
a true companion of our life indeed.
.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
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Love is hard
What happens when you have to say goodbye
do everything just go back to normal
well i can't do because im already intangled
in the mist of the love i feel for you
is it normal
to fall for a guy who already has one week
one week left to seem me
untill he leaves for college
to go his separate ways
is it normal
for me to cry at his graduation
for me to break down
when i only began to know him
is it normal
for me to be jealous of the thought of future girls
when i know that we cant be together anymore
love is the best and worst thing tha can ever happen
love is hard
is it normal
poem by Jasmine Jorden
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Mustard field
One day while walking in a mustard field,
I found a swing hanging on a mango tree,
mustard flowers were swirling with breeze,
birds were singing on tree,
there I found a swing on mango tree,
its ropes were long and thick,
I rode on it,
it moved up in the air like a bird,
and return back to move up there,
I saw a well from up there,
and bird nest on tree on back in the air,
the swing was moving here and there,
it was not aware of who I am,
just it was giving me feeling divine,
without any question or discrimination,
I found joy to fill my heart and I lived that moment like a bird!
poem by Hemu Gupta
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Doctor's Warnings
half of the mango.
that is all you can eat
and you do not like
it you take the whole
mango
and swallow.
a cup of rice.
hardheaded, you
take a bowl.
no coke. you
bought a bottle
and drink it all.
no sugar. no salt.
you are determined
to have some
and some more.
take death then
the doctor says
and you say
with all dignity:
thank you.
i love it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Woman is like a mango
A girl is a mango infantile,
That tastes in pickles.
A lass is about ripe mango,
That tastes in curries.
A woman is a ripe mango,
That tastes with its flesh.
At forties as juice and at fifties
As jelly, she lingers to my taste.
Even in sixties, she is like mango-essence.
In seventies, as endosperm of its nut
She still taste though differently.
Woman to men is evergreen.
29.05.2001, Berhampur
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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She Wants Me
It is between the lines,
It is between the walls,
And to gather information on this love!
But, she knows me and,
That's why she wants me.
On the doorframes,
In the eyes of everyone,
And of a distinguishing mark!
But, she knows me and,
That's why she wants me.
As it was,
Sitting under an oak tree;
As it were,
Sitting under a mango tree;
But, she was still searching for me! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Mango
The king of all fruits
Mango is my favorite
Believe it or not
You are like a sweet mango
So don't let the worms eat you.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Dadson
I am the son of my Dad and my name is Dadson,
But i am here to stay on your love like the King of Pop;
And my love is like a Bishop lost in the thick forest of Ghana.
Come to me and i will take you the 'Omanhene' and,
The Queen Mother of my area;
But to destool you on my love is what i will never do,
For i am like the sweet of a mango tree.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Mango-Tree
He wiled me through the furzy croft;
He wiled me down the sandy lane.
He told his boy's love, soft and oft,
Until I told him mine again.
We married, and we sailed the main;
A soldier, and a soldier's wife.
We marched through many a burning plain;
We sighed for many a gallant life.
But his-God kept it safe from harm.
He toiled, and dared, and earned command;
And those three stripes upon his arm
Were more to me than gold or land.
Sure he would win some great renown:
Our lives were strong, our hearts were high.
One night the fever struck him down.
I sat, and stared, and saw him die.
I had his children-one, two, three.
One week I had them, blithe and sound.
The next-beneath this mango-tree,
By him in barrack burying-ground.
I sit beneath the mango-shade;
I live my five years' life all o'er-
Round yonder stems his children played;
He mounted guard at yonder door.
'Tis I, not they, am gone and dead.
They live; they know; they feel; they see.
Their spirits light the golden shade
Beneath the giant mango-tree.
All things, save I, are full of life:
The minas, pluming velvet breasts;
The monkeys, in their foolish strife;
The swooping hawks, the swinging nests;
The lizards basking on the soil,
The butterflies who sun their wings;
The bees about their household toil,
They live, they love, the blissful things.
Each tender purple mango-shoot,
That folds and droops so bashful down;
It lives; it sucks some hidden root;
It rears at last a broad green crown.
It blossoms; and the children cry-
'Watch when the mango-apples fall.'
It lives: but rootless, fruitless, I-
I breathe and dream;-and that is all.
Thus am I dead: yet cannot die:
But still within my foolish brain
There hangs a pale blue evening sky;
A furzy croft; a sandy lane.
1870.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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As many joys as there are sorrows.
The mango tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
The jack tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
Likewise were a few more trees
That gave me different fruits and shades.
There’re trees having given me only shades.
I was sad when I left them in sequence.
Each sensation was punctuated by a stroke.
Each parting gave me a heart break.
Unions beget joys and partings, sorrows.
Sorrows follow because joys preceded.
The one who sticks to one love is unfortunate.
19.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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