And The Priests Said No Divorce -Amen?
She married him, that evil incarnate.
Frail looking facade of a false man
With so much of unresolved hate,
But one she had tried to understand.
Those abject years were filled with pain
But Jean had to stay for the children
Her mind messed up and emotions drained
From getting beaten up so very often.
One day he hit her head on the table
With gun in his hand and ready to shoot
The blood from her eyes made her unable
To run away as a bullet hit her foot.
That vile and vicious scum of this earth
Kept hitting her head till she fainted
So high on his drugs and soul full of dirt
Violence alive, never was so demented.
Yet Jean survived that horrible ordeal
Her children marred by warped emotions
Against advice she remained there still
No Divorce to resolve that ugly situation.
Tragically fenced she was by Religion
That neither cared for her life with its rules
The priests must have wanted her martyrdom
Divorce was given only to rich fools.
Years saw her frail health deteriorate fast
Head injuries were now malignant cancer
For even a punching bag would not last
Under that condition, maybe dying was better.
So hail the pious priests, they have won again!
Another woman had died through Deception
Children whose lives been maimed and broken -
All because of rules by a selfish religion.
This is a true story of a friend whose name is hidden in 'Jean'
for the protection of her children. Jean became deaf before she suffered from brain tumor and died.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Catch Me If You Can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, ohh my...
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my, my, my...
Sweet magicians daughter, weaving spells my way
You know I want to be with you, but magic words are all you say
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my, my...
Merlins magic daughter, I know thats what you are
Im playing magic games with you, its easier to guide a star
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my...woo
Magic lady waiting, your palace walls are tall
I can wait forever, but Im climbing up the palace wall
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, ohhh, my, my, my, my...
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my...
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad
Jean did her best
Denny worked hard
And so together made him a star
And he loved her
Money changed hands
Denny must start
Tallying up things close to his heart
And he loved her so
But we don't always know what to say
When they ask you, what do you say?
No one can tell what's in a heart
People just drift apart
Jean lost her head
Denny got mad
"how, jean," he said, "can things be so bad
Right before my eyes"
Jean told a lie, denny deceived
Jean packed her bags to leave
"jean, if you must go
Before you do
Tell me you know i did it for you
And i loved you so.
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Norma-Jean
Oh my gosh its August again!
And for all that are and were?
I think of one,
Orphan Angel,
Norma-Jean,
An Icon of one,
That became what,
The 1950's wanted,
Then died because,
Of,
Pressure and pain,
Of,
Fame and fortunes,
Now here it is August again,
The first week and the beginning,
The first week and the ending,
For,
Norma-Jean Mortensen,
Norma-Jean Baker,
Norma-Jean Dorherty,
Norma-Jean Di-Maggio,
Norma-Jean Miller,
Marilyn Monroe,
A week of celebrating her birth,
A week of remember her death,
A week of what and who she was,
A child born,
And orphaned off,
And what ended up,
A pawn in the idles game,
Of fame and fortune,
With scandel and ruination,
Her Birthday,
And Death Anniversary,
Each in the beginning of August,
Oh my gosh its August again!
And for all that are and were?
I think of one,
Orphan Angel,
Norma-Jean,
Now an Icon embossed,
When in the books,
Of one left to be,
And raised here and there,
Orphan Angel,
Norma-Jean,
Went and became,
What all just made out of her,
And only her few close friends,
That told it right,
Of who was,
Norma-Jean,
And still she is famed,
Yet,
Not until she is long, long gone,
Did we really find out about,
Ophan Angel,
Norma-Jean,
From those that remained so quiet,
Till,
They too passed on as well,
Cookies in the sky,
With warm milk of milky way stars,
And warm company,
Of high above,
With,
Cool diners images of where they meet,
To discuss their fame,
And troubled fortunes,
And the marks on life,
They left behind,
With,
Trials and blazes,
As each and everyone of them,
That too went out,
Just,
Like Norma-Jean,
Will too enjoy,
Just as in life,
Warm Cookies and warm milk,
And the company,
Of.
Norma-Jean.
R.I.P.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And the children died
And the children died.
Our children kept dying.
Then our childrens child
picked up the struggle,
and they died.
Whether in Belfast, palestine, chile,
or Iraq. They, our children died.
When moneyed powered barons
enjoin to force their farce of alien
thoughts upon a righteous people
our children die.
They, our children continued to fight
and to die.Their bodies piled up.
Sorrow became our life, the blood from
their wounds glistens always in our eyes,
and they our children fight.
Whilst we listen to politicans imploring
us to accept their just peace.
And the children died...
WHY
poem by Johnoe Mc Guckin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Divorce.. To My Children I`m So Very Sorry
With every divorce there is marriage,
Are we talking love and fairy tales, horse and carriage.
Let me burst the bubble of those with fantasies,
It starts we, us and ours, and soon become I, my and me`s.
Marriage is hardwork, trying, and many a sacrifice,
Its two people who have loved, but soon learn to despise, to be precise.
But remember these words from a synical divorcee,
Your children will suffer, with your actions believe me.
I was vengeful and wanted my pound of flesh,
He was vicious and mean, creating an awful mess.
The childrens emotions all over the place,
Anger, tears, confusion and blame, normal for divorce in any case.
You wanted a life, you 'needed to move on' you`d say,
The kids forced into this, new woman, her kids, the disarray.
If only you`d seen the hurt, wiped the tears from their face,
Listened to the crys as they mourned your place.
Raised their hopes, made false promises, watched the let downs,
I saw, I watched what we`d to our own, such evil clowns.
Dont get me wrong I`m glad we divorced, dissolved our sad marriage,
I hate that we hurt our children and caused so much damage.
Your new life was emotionally a costly affair,
Scars worn like badges and crosses to bare.
So heed what I say, and think hard before you divorce,
Make time, talk, be civil and try before you take this course.
Children grow so quick and leave home, its not long,
So give them the best start be PARENTS sing the same song x
poem by Nikki Cuthbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother Earth And Father Time Are Angry
Mother Earth and Father Time are walking hand in hand.
They're visiting their children and checking on their land.
They view the worlds destruction everywhere they turn.
They fear their precious children are never going to learn.
''This earth should be their playground with joys beyond belief
yet, all these children seem to know is senseless pain and grief.''
''How do we teach our children to care for such a place?
They may not get the message till we slap them in their face.''
The children are oblivious to even basic rules.
That's why so many people grow up looking like such fools.
The prisoner of his conscience (Story Poem)
He was very poor and he married a rich woman
So he got money but he became a very sad man
She couldn't have children, even it wasn't his game plan
One day he saw a widow walking down the street ''It's later'
He told her calmly and begun to discuss about life with her
He didn't know why he suddenly felt to touch her so tender
He understood her when she confessed her cried coeur
Saying that she had three grown children and she was very poor
And she had to work as housemaid at a loudmouthed boor
She was in pain and he felt that and to help her was his concern
He wanted to take care of her family asking nothing in return
He thought never to dishonor her acting as a father to her children
He begun to understand how unhappy was the woman he loved
When he left her for another one and she became so grieved
He asked her to talk about his feelings for her and she approved
He wanted to divorce to marry her and take care of her needs
Certainly he wanted to become an adoptive father of her kids
To make her the mother of his future children he made a bid
His wife didn't agree to divorce but he left her on her demand
He took the widow and went to find their soul in a far away land
His wife got crazy and she killed herself they found her on the sand
He went to her funeral to see her last time without annoyance
He begun to scream releasing something deeper and fierce
Without his wish releasing the prisoner of his conscience.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jean Hickey
Jean Hickey than me is a few years older I knew her long before she met and married Ted O Shea
And she went to live in Finnanefield in Kilcorney from Inchaleigh in Millstreet five or six miles away
I have not seen her for years but her I will remember until the reaper gives the call to me
Good people like her one does not wish to forget and she did not fade from my memory.
Jean Hickey always is the quiet achiever the quiet achiever in her own quiet way
She has helped so many people in their times of illness though of her good deeds she never has much to say
A nurse who is devoted to her calling and in her kind heart there is only good
And people like her invaluable to society for she would only help you if she could.
In the year 06 she will retire as a District Nurse and from the call of duty she will have earned her rest
And it will take a special person to replace her for at her job she is one of the best
But as we know people do not last forever and retirement one day comes to one and all
Though Jean she played her part and in no small way and she was there to answer every call.
In the year 06 from Nursing she's retiring one well might say a rest she is overdue
Jean Hickey always is the quiet achiever and to the corporal works of mercy she is true
In her years as district nurse she has cared for many ill people and the story of her life ought to be told
And of this marvellous woman it can be said that she is truly worth her weight in gold.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jack
Jack was a swarthy, swaggering son-of-a-gun.
He worked thirty years on the railroad, ten hours a day, and his hands were tougher than sole leather.
He married a tough woman and they had eight children and the woman died and the children grew up and went away and wrote the old man every two years.
He died in the poorhouse sitting on a bench in the sun telling reminiscences to other old men whose women were dead and children scattered.
There was joy on his face when he died as there was joy on his face when he lived—he was a swarthy, swaggering son-of-a-gun.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Liza Jane
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute I'll get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
What's wrong with you what is it you want
Can't forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad it's called Little Liza Jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Hambone Hammer where you've been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man that's three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
the bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are The Children
We are the children who never got to be children
We all grew up too fast
We are the children who cried silent tears
Praying it wouldn't last
We are the children who practised their smile
Hiding all the pain inside
We are the children who couldn't get away
Got dragged along for the ride
So now hear my prayer
Let the children smile
Don't take away their youth and innocence
Let them be kids for a while
So now join this march
For the children's rights
Don't lock them away in the cold and the dark
Just give them a shining light
The kids don't work they do my head in
Just remember it's coz of all the lies you spin
You think it's messed up now - just wait till you're old
You never made those memories out of gold
The kids they cry
Every single night
Just let them smile
And see the light
poem by Alex Daydream
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jean Geanie
A small Jean Genie snuck off to the city
Strung out on lasers and slash back blazers
Ate all your razors while pulling the waiters
Talking bout Monroe and walking on Snow White
New York's a go-go and everything tastes nice
Poor little Greenie, woh ho
Get back home
The Jean Genie lives on his back
The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks
He's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
Jean Genie let yourself go!
Sits like a man but he smiles like a reptile
She love him, she love him but just for a short while
She'll scratch in the sand, won't let go his hand
He says he's a beautician and sells you nutrition
And keeps all your dead hair for making up underwear
Poor little Greenie, woh ho
The Jean Genie lives on his back
The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks
He's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
Jean Genie let yourself go oh
He's so simple minded he can't drive his module
He bites on the neon and sleeps in the capsule
Loves to be loved, loves to be loved
Woh ho
Woh ho
Aoo Jean Genie lives on his back
The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks
And he's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
The Jean Genie let yourself go! go
Go
Jean Genie lives on his back
Jean Genie loves chimney stacks
And he's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
Jean Genie let yourself go woh go
Go go
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twice Hail
Twice Hail
To the children
Of the place of the dawn
Hail, to the children
Twice children of the sun
Hail dark brown forms
You are the vertebrae
Its pristine strength
Has an intelligence soul
That knows the millions of years
Of the heavenly row boat.
Children of the sky scrappers
Children of the corn
Hail the great God
Who suffer no destruction
Exalted one, adored
By the coming forth
Of the souls of children
Who can say
The God of my God
In an intelligent way.
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dial 8
On a sea of nails in self doubt
I push this feeling further into this sound.
In all this failing i could never hide
The truth of pain that left me broken on the inside.
We are the future, We are the lie
Trapped in holy innocence we only wish to thrive
We are the nightmare buried deep in your mind
We are the travesty sweetened with your pain.
Alive, Alive, but Barely Alive.
Alive, Alive, but Barely Alive.
Shepherds spreading death
Dragged outside shot in the head.
Holy maimed again.
Dragged outside shot in the head.
A million faces in a bloody shroud
I hear their voices calling me to put you down.
Covered in blood, drowning in my hate
I covered my eyes, I covered your eyes
I covered my eyes.
We are the cancer eating at your mind.
We are the ministries for all of your crimes.
Shepherds spreading deaht.
Dragged outside shot in the head
Holy maimed again.
Dragged outside shot in the head
Dragged outside shot in the head
Holy maimed, holy maimed again.
song performed by by Velvet Acid Christ
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Liza Jean
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute Ill get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
Whats wrong with you what is it you want
Cant forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad its called little liza jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Hambone hammer where youve been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man thats three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
The bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jean Desprez
Oh ye whose hearts are resonant, and ring to War's romance,
Hear ye the story of a boy, a peasant boy of France;
A lad uncouth and warped with toil, yet who, when trial came,
Could feel within his soul upleap and soar the sacred flame;
Could stand upright, and scorn and smite, as only heroes may:
Oh, harken! Let me try to tell the tale of Jean Desprez.
With fire and sword the Teuton horde was ravaging the land,
And there was darkness and despair, grim death on every hand;
Red fields of slaughter sloping down to ruin's black abyss;
The wolves of war ran evil-fanged, and little did they miss.
And on they came with fear and flame, to burn and loot and slay,
Until they reached the red-roofed croft, the home of Jean Desprez.
"Rout out the village, one and all!" the Uhlan Captain said.
"Behold! Some hand has fired a shot. My trumpeter is dead.
Now shall they Prussian vengeance know; now shall they rue the day,
For by this sacred German slain, ten of these dogs shall pay."
They drove the cowering peasants forth, women and babes and men,
And from the last, with many a jeer, the Captain chose he ten;
Ten simple peasants, bowed with toil; they stood, they knew not why,
Against the grey wall of the church, hearing their children cry;
Hearing their wives and mothers wail, with faces dazed they stood.
A moment only. . . . Ready! Fire! They weltered in their blood.
But there was one who gazed unseen, who heard the frenzied cries,
Who saw these men in sabots fall before their children's eyes;
A Zouave wounded in a ditch, and knowing death was nigh,
He laughed with joy: "Ah! here is where I settle ere I die."
He clutched his rifle once again, and long he aimed and well. . . .
A shot! Beside his victims ten the Uhlan Captain fell.
They dragged the wounded Zouave out; their rage was like a flame.
With bayonets they pinned him down, until their Major came.
A blonde, full-blooded man he was, and arrogant of eye;
He stared to see with shattered skull his favourite Captain lie.
"Nay, do not finish him so quick, this foreign swine," he cried;
"Go nail him to the big church door: he shall be crucified."
With bayonets through hands and feet they nailed the Zouave there,
And there was anguish in his eyes, and horror in his stare;
"Water! A single drop!" he moaned; but how they jeered at him,
And mocked him with an empty cup, and saw his sight grow dim;
And as in agony of death with blood his lips were wet,
The Prussian Major gaily laughed, and lit a cigarette.
But mid the white-faced villagers who cowered in horror by,
Was one who saw the woeful sight, who heard the woeful cry:
"Water! One little drop, I beg! For love of Christ who died. . . ."
It was the little Jean Desprez who turned and stole aside;
It was the little bare-foot boy who came with cup abrim
And walked up to the dying man, and gave the drink to him.
A roar of rage! They seize the boy; they tear him fast away.
The Prussian Major swings around; no longer is he gay.
His teeth are wolfishly agleam; his face all dark with spite:
"Go, shoot the brat," he snarls, "that dare defy our Prussian might.
Yet stay! I have another thought. I'll kindly be, and spare;
Quick! give the lad a rifle charged, and set him squarely there,
And bid him shoot, and shoot to kill. Haste! Make him understand
The dying dog he fain would save shall perish by his hand.
And all his kindred they shall see, and all shall curse his name,
Who bought his life at such a cost, the price of death and shame."
They brought the boy, wild-eyed with fear; they made him understand;
They stood him by the dying man, a rifle in his hand.
"Make haste!" said they; "the time is short, and you must kill or die."
The Major puffed his cigarette, amusement in his eye.
And then the dying Zouave heard, and raised his weary head:
"Shoot, son, 'twill be the best for both; shoot swift and straight," he said.
"Fire first and last, and do not flinch; for lost to hope am I;
And I will murmur: Vive La France! and bless you ere I die."
Half-blind with blows the boy stood there; he seemed to swoon and sway;
Then in that moment woke the soul of little Jean Desprez.
He saw the woods go sheening down; the larks were singing clear;
And oh! the scents and sounds of spring, how sweet they were! how dear!
He felt the scent of new-mown hay, a soft breeze fanned his brow;
O God! the paths of peace and toil! How precious were they now!
The summer days and summer ways, how bright with hope and bliss!
The autumn such a dream of gold . . . and all must end in this:
This shining rifle in his hand, that shambles all around;
The Zouave there with dying glare; the blood upon the ground;
The brutal faces round him ringed, the evil eyes aflame;
That Prussian bully standing by, as if he watched a game.
"Make haste and shoot," the Major sneered; "a minute more I give;
A minute more to kill your friend, if you yourself would live."
They only saw a bare-foot boy, with blanched and twitching face;
They did not see within his eyes the glory of his race;
The glory of a million men who for fair France have died,
The splendour of self-sacrifice that will not be denied.
Yet . . . he was but a peasant lad, and oh! but life was sweet. . . .
"Your minute's nearly gone, my lad," he heard a voice repeat.
"Shoot! Shoot!" the dying Zouave moaned; "Shoot! Shoot!" the soldiers said.
Then Jean Desprez reached out and shot . . . the Prussian Major dead!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghetto Religion (feat. Wyclef Jean)
R. Kelly (feat. Wyclef Jean)
Ghetto Religion
Had the landlord at my door
I heard him saying,
Tomorrow no more
Pay me now or leave
But we didnt have anything to give(ah can you feel me)
Searching for restoration(and we need restoration)
Make the church my family
This is my story
This is my song
And I can sing it all night longI tell you why because,
Chorus
The ghetto is a part of my religion(the only thing my eyes can see)
The only thing my eyes can see(and I tell you there aint no man)
There aint no man gonna stop the vision(Im a part of the ghetto)
The ghetto is a part of me
Children cry no more(children cry no more)
Because heaven is upon you
Please put down your guns
And we shall overcome
Thought your load may be heavy
Know that the weight makes you strong
Take my life for example
While I sing my song
Mr. Kelly help me sing this song
Chorus X2
La la la la la lala la..X3(fade out)
The ghetto is a part of me
The ghetto is a part of my religion
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children In America!
one out of three
children in America,
living in poverty?
what happened
to the land of promise?
children hungry,
children homeless,
children that wont
get a good education!
children, broken families,
children without future.
children without love....
turn to hate!
build your cities,
build your banks,
build your kingdoms
drunk on oil and blood!
your children, dying....
who digs their graves?
who closes their eyes?
who prays for their souls?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Toy for Future Children
A blind and deaf bullet buried in the field
Dozing through decades of blood and bones
Then one morning
In a bustling future
As the children return to the field
Returning to goof around and chase each other
The blind and deaf bullet will be dug up
Will be dug up and awaken
In the middle of this happiness
As the children shriek and crow
The bullet will wake up
Wake up and open its eyes
Open its eyes and explode
Explode and the children will die
Die with their bodies and faces shattered
There, that’s the toy left over by your parents
O my children
What more can I say
What can say to my children, to my children
To a pitiful future.
A centenarian, a curse.
A woman centenarian lives or struggles.
She witnessed many deaths
In her son, son-in-law and daughter-in-law,
Lost the love of her children,
Not to say children’s children,
Lost the awe of women at home,
And passes like an abject of neglect,
Amidst utter loneliness,
With no companion at all to talk to,
Without sleep and without engagement,
With weak limbs and weak mind,
Without teeth and with out sight.
All hail, she lives a hundred years!
10.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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