This Natural Poem

This poem is natural and,
It is flowing through the air to touch your heart;
So, if you read it now,
You will surely understand who we are on this earth!
For every new change needs a new start.

Colour your life with much changes and,
Colour your life with true love!
Then you will understand the muse of this natural poem;
And like the joy of peace in the land of many rivers.

This natural poem,
Said, paid, maid, laid, aid, raid;
In the Twelfth Moon and,
On the twenty-fifth day of the moon!
For i am always found in the city when you need me;
But the military servive was taken over by your neighbour.

A network,
A royal guard,
A bronze top!
Encircling it with the muse of love,
And like the poorest people with close associates;
But the famine in East Africa is so severe! !

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It Will Touch Your Heart!

Muse, infuse!
This poem is for you when you read it;
Because, i love you.
This poem is very special and,
It has the ingredients of love than hate;
So, take hate out of you and,
Bring in the light of love! !
This poem is for you because,
I love you;
And, this poem is here to guide you.
It will touch your heart!
Because, it is from my heart;
This poem is the poem of love,
Without hatred that leads to war! !
This poem is all that i have for you because,
I love you.
Smile and, let me see you laughing with the muse of love;
Becuase, i am here to share my love with you.
This poem has the spices of love and the aroma of romance waiting for you!
Because, it is from my heart.
This poem will touch you when you read it;
Because, i specially wrote it for you.
Muse, infuse!
With the joy of your heart;
Because, this is the true love that i share with you;
And, this poem will touch your heart because,
I love you.

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A poem for you...

I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you


Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka

Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam

poem by Ravi SathasivamReport problemRelated quotes
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Knitted Well

The quality of this poem is knitted well!
Flow, low, below, blow, slow, cow, row;
Because,100 over 100 equals to 1.
The texture of this poem is knitted well!
Well, fell, bell, tell, hell, sell, cell, dell;
For we now see what is going on in Syria! !

War, tar, bar, star, car, gar, far, jar, mar, par;
With tangible images and tangible reasons,
And like a phenomenal man and a phenomenal woman!
But this war is killing many.

Clove, glove, prove, hove, strove, wove, stove;
And, what a nice poem that it is!
For, it is in it if,
It is with the muse of love!
And like the tender words of your muse,
But we now know what is going on in Syria.

100 over 100 is equal to 1!
But the poetry of life is always arouns us;
For the theme of this poem is fantastic! !
Bow, glow, how, vow, wow, grow, know;
And like the sweet muse of love.

Mow, now, sow, tow, throw, crow, show;
And like a nice image,
Shell, yell, jell, ell, quell, tell;
With its mystical muse like the melody of your music!
But the bombs are destroying everything.

Love, dove, drove, rove, shove, cove, grove;
With this superb peom to satisfy your muse,
But the poetry of life is always around us!
And we should find peace on earth always through this poetic life.

Sweet scent of freedom!
And like the modern songs in the land of your muse,
Because,100 over 100 equals to 1;
And this poem is knitted well,
But the poor moon weeps in the land of your muse because of this war!

When will these bombs stop falling on them? !
For the rich moon laughs in another land and,
The poor moon weeps in the land of Syria;
And the bombs are falling on them from every angle!
But, i do hope for peace in your land as well.

The philosopher,
Your choices,
The lessons,
Your actions,
And like my people being punished because of this war!
For, the mortal beings are now becoming immortal;
And, there are no graves to bury many of them.

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A Poem Is Just A Poem

a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem

a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about

anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's

poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be

a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice

thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist

on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,

need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem

it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so

this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.

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Me And You II

This poem os for me and you,
But the world can also read it to learn from it;
For it is all about the love that we share,
And like the muse of the rainbow in the land of joy.

Come and feel my muse with your love,
Come and let me lead you on;
For this narrow path of love is lijke the muse of the blue sea,
But the red sea is closer to your house.

I am the one that you need,
You are the one that i need,
And like a jooy ride in the land of roses!
For, this poem is only for me and you.

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This is a poem....

This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.

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The 7th Edition Of My Love

This poem is about the muse of your love,
But many will still wonder why?
Because i was in the bush last night and i saw your tears.

The dog became a god and the rat became a tar!
But war was very raw on your side;
And to leap for joy was like the peal of your muse.

I saw you tears yesterday,
But you can't repel the leper and come to me;
For the heavens know who i am,
But this poem will say it all.

This poem is about the muse of your love,
But what have they done to you my love? !
For i have seen the tears in your eyes.

I have now won the race and,
I will come and save you from this cold;
So put your clothes on without any clues on my muse,
For this era of your love is like the net over ten houses!
But i need a nap for you to use the pan on my stove.

The gel is now on your left leg,
And the dam is now visited by a mad man;
But a man at war is like the sorrows of your muse.

This is the 7th Edition of my love,
But i will come and save you from the heat!
And like shiny leaves with sharp points,
But try to abide in me and live with me in my abode.

Abreast yourself to the matters of love,
And leave your door ajar and let me meet Raja my friend;
For the anagram of my life is all about you,
Because Elvis lives in the land of your muse!

Append to my works to enhance your love,
But things around you are like the era of war!
So live up to the expectations of this poem,
And i will be there to save you with my sweet love.

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For a Lost Poem

Dedicated to the poem 'Moon Light' that was written a few years back.

For a Lost Poem
A poem written long ago –
disappeared on the face of the earth
as if it never existed – but somewhere
beyond this skyline it did;
where the moon sits, and shines its light –
this poem has been erased from history,
from where it was put into storage.

Oh poem, I feel a loss for you!
Where have you gone? Oh where have you gone?
Moon Light, once many people read,
and praised me for such delicacy,
now she is gone too.

As if death has to come with:
the darkening sky, oh ye poem –
ye selfless poem come back and
let the light shine upon you.
A poem has gone, but where?

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Annabel

It will surely rise up!
Because, i am Annabel in the land of your muse;
And like the works of art and the beauty of your love,
For, the colour of the sea is like the muse of your town.

I know your mind and,
You are unable to hide this muse from me! !
For, it will always rise up to satisfy me;
And like the joy of success!
But, try to understand my sweet muse around you always.

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The Black Continent

Africa, Africa, Africa!
The Black Continent full of raw materials and talented people;
For the Blackman is capable of managing his own affairs.

Beautiful South Africa,
Beautiful North Africa,
Beautiful East Africa,
Beautiful West Africa,
And beautiful Central Africa! !
This Black Continent is full of natural resources.

Visit Africa to understand our ways,
For we have more to the world!
And like the muse of the animals in the forest,
But The Black Continent means a lot to all of us on this earth:

Africa, Africa, Africa! !

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The Darkness Of Life

The darkness of life and the troubles of the mind,
They've never got that level of education to respect my muse;
And like the nakedness of women and the muse of love,
But lost in yester years to swing along with my muse!
And the colour of the lion is the colour of Africa.

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This Poem

THIS POEM

This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.

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This Poem

The love of a muse like Orange Street,
The pen of a writer like Banana Street,
This poem will teach many yet unborn.
From Marcus Garvey to Haile Selassie,
From Haile Selassie to Bob Marley,
From Bob Marley to all;
This poem is from a realm to guide many.

No bones for the dogs,
No fish for the cats,
Like the life in Guantanamo Bay!

Honey for my child,
Chocolates for your children,
Molasses for us all to learn from eachother.
This poem is like the White City Stadium,
This poem is like the Montego Bay,
This poem is like St. William Grant Park,
This poem is like the life in Downtown Kingston,
This poem is like James Bond Beach,
This poem is like one walking through Trench Town,
This poem is the Mustard Seed that grows around you,
This poem is to all mankind,
This poem will teach many yet unborn;
For, life is all about us.

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Bayla

The events have not well settled down,
But i have seen the nakedness of your muse;
And be very wise to criticize me on this muse,
Because it is all about your love.

You may understand my muse or not,
But poetry is all about you and i! !
And what you write down in the name of your country will not satisfy me;
But i have to accept your lines in the name of poetry.

I am not the one that you are looking for,
So do not be very angry with my poems;
For they are all there to teach others than you! !

Bayla my lover is still at home,
And like a star in the land of lovers;
But this poem was not writtien for you.

I am very glad to understand your status,
But why are not ready for criticism? !
Because we are all learning on this earth.

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Shepherdess

She was a shepherdess,
Net, met, let, wet, sert, pet, yet, ret, vet, bet, het, jet, net;
And like the game of colours,
But some customs can never change!

Change the possibilities and let me meet up with the muse of love,
For we do understand each other on this love;
And like the signs and the wonders of her lovely muse,
But her natural features in the mirror of love are all that i need.

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Let This One Poem Be About Me

Let this one poem be just about me
Let this one poem engulf all my beauty
Let this one poem define my soul
Let this one poem consume me whole
My soul was earth bound
And my heart lay in a place that it would never be found
Let this poem be what entangles my mind
Let this poem be where people will find
They will find that missing link
And this poem it will make them think
They will wonder how this girl came
They will wonder how I avoided fame
I didn’t write these words to please
I wrote these words to tease
My heart it’s the type that beckons for ease
And my taste will not accept the flavor of peas
Let this poem describe me in most simplest of ways
Let this poem show how I get through these days
And I know people will read this and say…
This girl she knew where heart lay…
Let this poem eat me whole
Let me entire heart bleed its luscious love into a broken bowl
My soul wanted only to be free
And this poem only pushed it back into me
I never will lose any part of my soul
Because then this world will swallow my inner being whole
Let this poem be what I hate
Let this poem describe with who I would mate
Let this thoughts become my ways
Let this poem be where I stray
Let this poem show how I lie
Let this poem describe how I will die
Yes I am human I cannot avoid death
Yes I am human I chose not to use meth
These words they dance upon this page
These words they have no age
These verses have lost all meaning
Because I revealed my demeaning
Let this poem describe what I deem right
Let this poem that I will always fight
My age floats through these words
And people will never understand why I want to be heard
Let this poem be only about me
Let this poem be what sets me free
And I know some day people will look at this and say…
This girl, this girl she knew exactly where her heart lay…

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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem

THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM

The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-

I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-

The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-

A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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There Was A Poem Even God Could Not Understand

THERE WAS A POEM EVEN GOD COULD NOT UNDERSTAND

There was a poem even God could not understand
It was written by the sufferings of the innocent
It had names of pain inscribed inside its every line
When it was read aloud
The screams sounded down the corridors
Of all the abandoned minds of this forsaken planet
It was such a poem
Such such a poem
Even God the One who knows everything
Even God
Could not understand it.
t.

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