It Tastes Like NECTAR
To be an unwanted guest
sitting alone in the absence of the host
eating food 'hot and shining like an eye of a cat',
It is not delicious, but considered 'bitter like neem';
If you happen to eat in a house
where you are greeted kindly with respect,
the host also accompanies you to dine,
however they are poor;
Even if they provide cold watery gruel,
prepared with poor quality rice grains,
It tastes like NECTAR,
imbibes with your mind and body.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Be a guest
The guest must leave the host
Against host’s insistence to stay.
Be a guest only for a while.
Be a host to compensate
23.07.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Guest Is 'Trouble
There is a guest and a host
child and servant,
eternity and vanity,
The guest is trouble.
In sickness, health is the host
he gives way to sickness
that the power of truth is depicted
the guest is 'trouble'
In pain, comfort is the host
who concedes the pain
that the vanity of darkness is depicted
the guest is 'trouble'
In death, life is the host
who gives way to death
that the power of resurrection is shown
the guest is 'trouble'
Life is eternal, death is a moment.
health is a fruit, sickness is a leaf
that falls from a tree of life.
They soon wither and waste away.
Be strong, it's not too long
the guest will leave.
and the host will have it all
The guest is 'trouble'
poem by Timothy muggaga
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A guest should not cause his host's demise. When the guest is ready to leave, his host should not have given him a hunch-back.
Neem is neem and it is bitter
Neem is neem and it is bitter
If you like you can give
Milk sugar honey butter
Neem is neem and it is bitter.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unwanted Food
Eating sausages needing more salt
Planes rumble from up above
Refrigerator does not work
Cooling is secondary for food
Eyes are huge when morsels come
Oblivious to words of warning
Songs emit when eating quickly
Joyful bliss, comments over bound
Listening to snap, crackle, and pop
Eating away, feeling explosive
Food plows inside, too much
Sounds make for unbalanced head
Legs crossed, poor feelings falling
Down, down, down the ground holds
The butt, hitting rock bottom
And the meal bleeds out the body
Showing the food feels unwanted
Never wanted to be eaten again
poem by Russell Sivey
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Don't consider the wealth is eternal!
While the wife feeds
the husband, with love and desire,
the different types of foods
prepared with six tastes;
And he takes only one handful,
leaving the rest untouched,
from the quantity of food prepared,
the remaining food is wasted;
However rich,
he is likely to become poor one day
and beg for food in some other place,
Hence don't consider the wealth is eternal!
(naalatiyaar - aRaththuppaal - selvam nilaiyaamai 1)
Hence don't waste food
and share it with everybody,
Utilise your wealth
for charity!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Patience, Patience
the child with a black coat
on this cold day
sits there beside a brick
church of spanish
architecture
the yard is quiet except
for the sound of the flapping
of doves feedind on some
rice grains
the boy has a black hair
and his feet are stained with
mud his fingers dirty with
some sticky sauce
he spreads the rice grains
from his palm to the
muddy grounds
the doves hover and land
on the spot where the grains
are freely spread
he sits with them
surrounded
the doves are watching him
and he watches carefully each
dove that eyes on his grains
he likes to snatch just one
to bring home to mother
the doves are too careful
it is just the rice grains nothing more
eye to eye
both wait for what shall happen next
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Feed Them!
Plenty of fertile land,
In every host and guest,
Plenty of much needed grains,
In every other country,
We have enough food to feed,
But People are hungry.
One billion in total,
Seven tenth of them in Asia,
People have no money,
People have no man created money,
They sleep in hungry,
People have no mint created coins,
To buy the food to evade pain,
To fill their acidic stomach,
Every six person on earth,
One person is skeletal,
With haunted look,
One hundredth of them,
In the developed world,
shame on the hypocrites,
who hold back and destroy the food.
Gods of human, Feed them.
Gods of heaven, Feed them.
Gods of hell, Feed them.
Singular God of the desert,
Please feed them.
with the food to the poor
and the knowledge to the ignorant,
who are recalcitrant in nature,
selling the Gods to human.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What is there more kindly than the feeling between host and guest?
My Room Is Your Room Now
i
my room is your room now
and my arms yours too
my lips are ready for your
warm kiss and you may
have them as yours
ii
for this house is your house
my body is your body
for my love is your love
and my longing is your longing too
iii
this is my heaven and it is yours too
all the angels sing for you
and they also sing for me
iv
you and me in this loneliness
you and me in this hapless mess
v
so i am a tree, a house, arms, lips and body
so i am heaven, room, and window and door
so i am open for you and so you are here with me
you are my guest and i am your host
there is no reason for you to be angry
and if you happen not to like it here
you may leave early the next morning
and please you do not have to say an angry word
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Food is god
Food is god
for poor people...!
God is not
Only food...
Rich home
Dog is eat
Nice food...
That food is god...?
yes that also
A god...
Good food is
God...
What is good food...?
Given good health
Always good food...
So...
Non veg
Or veg...
Every good food
Is god...
Simply sit
Silentely eat food
With out hot
And cool drinks...
Food is not only
Poor's god...
With each and
Every one also
food is god...
Give respect and
Take food...
Happley too try too
Thank for god...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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A guest has not to thank the host, but the host the guest.
If you are a host to your guest, be a host to his dog also.
If you are a host to your guest, be a host to his dog as well.
The Rich, The Poor
Even in the rich man's house
Poor man's food is being eaten
You had better eat rich man's food
In the poor man's house
Than eat poor man's food
In the rich man's house
Our world is mixed
Truly inseperable.
poem by Kolawole Ajao
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The host counts the loss
Woman is a host and man is a guest
In a sexual act, an accomplished act.
She enjoys offering herself to him.
He enjoys himself feeding upon her.
Party is over; the host counts the loss.
22.02.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hard To Swallow
We eat to live
We eat to grow
We eat to endulge ourselves,
In the greatness of food
We eat to provide comfort
We eat to be accepted
We eat as it is part,
Of our lives
Food comes in all different forms,
Shapes and sizes
It can be a bean as small as a nail
Or a christmas turkey the size of a horse
Food is a necessity
Food is a way of life
Food is enjoyed
Food is loved
But for some,
Food is despised
Eating brings pain
Eating brings weight
Eating brings illness
Eating brings hate
Eating means endless pain
A pain that wont stop,
Until the food inside,
Is forced out
Eating means weight gain and hurt
So,
It's best not to eat at all
The aching pain of hunger drifts away,
With several ibuprofein.
The battle with food is a constant struggle
To overcome the eating disorder
To take one bite,
And Swallow!
poem by Chris jones
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The Poor Decorative Platoons
We were there even before
The first guest arrived
We were not, of course, the host
We were colourful
Attractive to most of the guests
Children looked at us with awe
Even some senior guests
Talked to the host in praise of us
The hall got filled with guest
Young, old, men, women and children
A videographer capturing all happenings
A photographer creating a capsule of stills
A lot noise around
We were witnessing gossips,
Romantic glances,
Secret affectionate exchanges,
Fiery arguments,
Friendly approach for new business deals,
Discussion on weather, politics and so on
But we were never a part of these
But silently watching all these
With a bang came the occasion for celebration
All gathered around
Wished the couple on their
Fiftieth wedding anniversary
Some youngsters fell at the feet of the couple
Seeking their blessings
Some shook hands with the couple
Some greeted them with gifts
And some with bouquets
Some read out a citation
Some sang while some others danced
We were just watching
Time came for dinning
Some held glasses with drinks of their choices
Some turning more confident after intoxication
Some men venturing making fun of ladies of their liking
Some happy with a cup of soup
All were busy with their plates
Some mothers feeding their reluctant kids
Some continuing the discussions while eating
Some being gentle consumers
Some devouring with less pleasant gestures
Videographer and photographer covering all these
Aroma of the food items filled the hall
Function nearing an end
Guests leaving one after another
Hosts thanking each personally for their presence
All left the hall
Switching off lights, fans and air conditioners
Minding not our being left out in dark and suffocation
Dawned and entered a new set of workers
For a new celebration
'Clear all these' was an instruction for a supervisor
All on a sudden
We were pulled down
And thrown into a large dust bin
Some of us were blown out by a strong wind
And we were in the middle of the road
Each passing vehicle making us air borne
With its accompanying flush of wind
No one to take pity on us
The poor decorative platoons
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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I Hear The Body Speak
i hear the body speak
today warning the soul
that its demands sometimes
cannot be granted because
the soul is merely its visitor
and here on earth
the body is the host and as
host, it decides what is
good for the moment
what is best for itself
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Insignificantly Significant
Millions of particles,
Making up my body.
Millions of bodies,
Making up a world.
Millions of worlds,
Making up a universe.
Removed from this,
I feel alone.
Yet, I am a piece of the puzzle.
A part of a bigger picture.
Insignificantly significant.
One infected cell spreading.
Affecting the body,
Eventually, killing the host.
One infected host spreading.
Eventually killing the world.
One cell at a time,
One person at a time.
But in order to heal the world,
The host must heal first.
For if an infected host can destroy,
Then a well host can build.
A body will heal,
One cell at a time.
Until it is healthy.
A world will heal,
One person at a time.
Until it is done.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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