Return Journey to the inception of my memory by an auto rickshaw
Auto rickshaw, a carriage
Like a tortoise
Returns
Along my obsolete graveled
Road.
Auto rickshaw rolls on;
My bucolic had
Rocked
Mirth of a birth,
Rapturously.
Auto rickshaw passes by
Nuptial Hall, where
Bride,
With dowry gold, was
Bartered.
Auto rickshaw pauses before
Rural maze, where
My
Career knocks were
Mocked.
Auto rickshaw, the three
Wheeled, creeps through
Nostalgia
Scenting text books once
New.
Auto rickshaw halts now
On the lap,
For
Road is lost in
Fog.
poem by Fabiyas M V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Traffic Jam
Sleepless nights travel by heavy vehicles
Bearing to account two- wheelers and cars
Accross the red scream of a school boy
With a blessing of 'God be with you'
At the rear-face of a sacred auto-rickshaw
There, an ambulance caring intensively
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Auto Systematic
On auto systematic.
Delighted I am,
To have a light that shines.
I had been one quite static...
And fanatic in lacking to feed,
My own needs.
I'm on auto systematic.
And programmed to have all by bolts,
Committed to a tight snug fit.
Sidetracked no longer my knack...
Or quick am I to trip.
I'm on auto systematic.
Sidetracked no longer my knack.
Auto systematic.
With a preference I keep in tact.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Auto Modown
Auto modown
Down in youngstown
Bodies in the street
Auto mowdown
Noon in downtown
Bodies with no feet
Auto mowdown
Down in youngstown
Bodies got deblues
Auto mowdown
Noon in downtown
Bodies with no shoes
An acidhead goon in a 55 dodge
Didnt mean to do it
But a sidewalk run in the noonday sun
Ten to one he had to lose it
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Every single country that has an auto industry is stepping forward to help that auto industry. Why wouldn't we help this industry too, because it needs 3.5 million jobs.
quote by Jennifer M. Granholm
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Bi-Polar Disorder
I am writing, something after a long time. Had been suffering from Bi-polar disorder recently. The suffering had reached its extreme and I had run away from home since I started to feel that nobody was believing me and was treating me as a fake. Trust me, I am not a fake. My personality is really screwed up in many ways, that even I lose the track of my own identity.
Right now I truly wish that I had her since without her love my world has sunk even deeply into darkness.
While I was walking on the road, I had a great fall. My hand started bleeding and nobody cared to even pick me up. However, then I managed to find an auto-rickshaw and somehow managed to reach a safe place where I could see some light. Then, I called my parents and spent the night in their home. In the morning I came back since I decided to live, even though I have no hope left.
Felt, as if my world ended, nothing actually remained with me, I felt so.
poem by Rohit Sapra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Once I sailed from Port of Kandla to Venice the whole year
Her name is Melrose
A Liqueified Gas Tanker Ship
Very dangerous,
But I sleep happily in the cabin
Because I know that I cannot die
Until I die,
I see Gondolas in Venice
And Shylocks too.
As soon as the ship comes alongside the berth in Kandla
I jump to an Auto-Rickshaw and run to the statue in Gandhidam
Where the greatest human being stands straight.
I respect him the Comrade Gandhi as my Father!
To JVL Narasimharao in gratitude!
[ I remember on my way back from Gandhidam to the port Kandla, I buy few CD's of Urdu & Hindustan Ghazals and instrumental pieces of Ravi Shankar, Chaurasia, Ali Ustad Khan, Shiv Kumar Sharma and rest of all classicals.That whole year in 90's my Vessel ply between India & Italy's the Golden Era of my Sea life with soft spoken music.]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How To Make Money
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money;
tell me sweet love
you tell me
how to make money
how to make an easy billion
the world’s full of it
in cyberspace
and in shopping malls;
the world’s full of money schemes
in our real world
and where we buy a drink
or get more fries
it’s full on
about how to make money,
baby;
how to make money
make money, pal
they say
doing nothing;
I’ve got an auto system
and all you need is internet
and all you’ve got to do
is sit back and let the dollars roll
into your bank account
so tell me
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money
come in to this meeting
another group says
and we’ll show you how
show you how easy it is
how easy it is to make money:
it’s auto, auto, auto, fully automated
and the money keeps coming;
the money rolls
rolls in, rolls in, rolls in
tell me
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money
it’s all so easy
because we want
you to enjoy the life
we’ve earned;
we’ve made our money
and we want you to share
in the happiness;
it’s all so easy, dear friends –
we’ll guide you each step of the way;
we’ll show you how to make the money
so they’ll tell us
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money:
the only thing is
what they mean is
how to make money for them, babe,
how to make money for them
with a simple transfer of money
transfer of money, transfer of money
transfer of money from the foolish
transfer of money from the foolish to the deceitful;
wealth is, dear darling,
wealth is the transfer of money
from the foolish to the cunning
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money;
tell me sweet love
you tell me
how to make money
how to make an easy billion
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The rickshaw-puller on a rainy day
A rickshaw-puller
Is looking for passenger
On this rainy day
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Busted Motor
Going on and on about the goings on,
Around town...
Seems profoundly self indulgent.
And has gotta go!
Like an auto towed.
You know...
There has to be another mode,
For you to show...
You've grown beyond your offensiveness.
that has stooped to a level,
So very low.
How about a refreshing reset on your life?
Without your bookkeeping needs,
You perform creep peeps on people secretly.
Who cares who is cheating on their husbands,
Girlfriends, lovers and/or wives.
Some people do learn from birth...
They can live on their own merit.
Witrhou that spying done you've inherited.
Going on and on about the goings on,
Around town...
Seems profoundly self indulgent.
And has gotta go!
Like an auto towed.
That has been overloaded by a busted motor!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One atop another
White hen caged in a rickshaw;
Red beaks, why no squeak…
haiku by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Rickshaw-puller
On a sunny holiday
The rickshaw-puller
Goes on working all day long!
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The rickshaw puller
A rickshaw puller
Takes a break at a tea stall
On this sunny day
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How far to the next garage
Just as I stopped at a garage today
the car’s engine died,
as it was running
with the yellow light burning
and the last gasoline was gone.
I had no cash on me
and there was no card machine
and the auto bank
at the shop was broken
and I was told,
about an auto bank at the next garage.
I started walking
and found a black man
along the way.
How far to the next
garage I asked
and he replied,
just on the other side
of the bridge.
On the other side
of the bridge,
there was one more bridge
and on the other side
of it,
no garage could be seen
for two kilometres or more.
So I wondered while I walked along
with a plastic can in my hand
that if he really didn’t know
why did he lie,
or was the man
too afraid to be seen
as a fool
while the biggest fool
was I?
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mardi gras
An old wagging king goes on shopping in a Rickshaw
And a beggar drives a limousine in a country
Where no thieves and politicians
But lot of magicians.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Meeting The Society
Tradition has fallen
Meeting me with horning meat
Prime in the witchy dawn
Outside the porch on my kolam-space
Disgusting me much
to consider my kolam, address elsewhere
Hoping to be peaceful
While my heart still likes to stay
To watch a man every morning
Singing softly to his soul
An idealistic song of M.G.R
An apotheosis of heroism
But with holy-ash conspicuously on forehead
With a sequel of two lady-walkers
Crooning 'Shashtikavacham'
Blissful yet blissful not
As once the Lord at Swamimalai
When blessed me
Amid a thronging wedding crowd
Which blessedly spat betel-red
In the precincts of the temple
While the children wetted and fretted
over there to my increased agony
Which has not calmed down yet
As the flower-girl is still illoyal
Rating high for every flower-count
To the Goddess in the nearby temple
Where the auto-rickshaw drops me
Intending to hurt me much
Not taking me back home
Unexpectedly fleeing and not waiting
Very often to unlock my home
In sunless, powerless night
Fearing to be stabbed, strangled
Chain-snatched, robbed
To be bundled in cold-sweat
Followed by
Others' frequent sickening advice
'Don't look down low on '
Or 'don't step out old lady'
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Age old issue! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Times were when an auto rickshaw
Drove over my dainty toes
I said ouch, there was a momentary pain;
Shouted and moved to the next lane.
Times were when I could wear stilettos,
And even walk on slippery snow.
When young, you set your limits
Couldn’t care and get away with it.
Now, when my toe gets struck by a chair,
I end up with what they call a mild fracture.
Stay in bed, in a cast, hair dishevelled.
As the pain slowly up my spine travels.
One slice of pizza with tomato and cheese
And little bit of fried food with grease,
My belly aches and I long for a shut eye,
But sleep seems to have said good bye.
No longer can go on my knees
Since have rheumatoid arthritis.
Body point blank says, I refuse
To forgive you, for all the misuse.
Now, there is little money can buy,
Just pills you swallow and cry.
When I groan, family leaves
In disdain; turns on the small screen.
My son who lives overseas,
Calls and suggests a walking stick.
But Anika with her kind eyes,
Sits by my side to empathize.
We must order cushions for your feet,
Meanwhile let’s make a collage with dry leaves.
Pure love and innocence of my grand child,
Eases the pain to my delight I find.
Inspired by Raj Nandy’s GRAY HAIRS
Mark Twain:
Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.
21.06.09
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Yellowish Rickshawman's shuttle service in the colorful city and off limits
In the capital
This simple man with a loincloth
Poor fellow his name and he doesn't know
His date of birth.
Just think of your forefather's age.
His sweaty bare body
And broken ribs sadden,
The bare feet tempered under the burning Sun
And he's familiar with all the tar and gravel roads
From the court to brothel
And the Magistrate to Clerk
He has drawn them on his rickety cart.
Though the journey's hard
He never said tired.
Now he rests in a Pauper's graveyard
And his tumbledown antique cart the last will
Nobody has taken to the boasting Museum?
*Rickshaw (jinricksha) [ Jap. jin(man) +riki (power) and sha is carriage.]
A small two wheeled hooded vehicle drawn by one man or more men.
Originally used in Japan.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Kiss = 2
Lips
Signature...
With
Loving
Auto graph...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A male gynecologist is like an auto mechanic who has never owned a car.
quote by Carrie P. Snow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Auto racing is boring except when a car is going at least 172 miles per hour upside down.
quote by Dave Barry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!