En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Black crow

It is unpleasant to see black crow
I keep the stones ready to throw
No one likes constant ka-ka noise
Very sharp, intelligent bird and wise

We may know nothing about them
They have dirty work and no fame
How much useful they are to mankind?
We don’t know yet but still mind

They get wind of everything early
Find out remains and eat them calmly
They serve the mankind in best way
We neglect them and keep at bay

It has no lovely feature and look
People have painted them clever and crook
They need not search for any fresh food
For them garbage is nice or very good

There would have been spread of epidemic
If the removal of dirt is not systematic
They come to the help and clear the area
No need to invite them or make any plea

They are fearful of human being
Always fly away with powerful wing
With one voice they flock in thousands
Meal is over in friction of seconds

They provide us very noble service
All our essential needs they suffice
Think of them if they are not there
The dirt will remain as and where

They are not liked by because of color
We may not remain in vicinity due to odor
This is their best choice and favorite dish
They will have fist if they find meat and fish

They are in real sense enemy of diseases
Good health prevails and epidemic ceases
How can they be called mean scavengers?
When they are clean agent and messengers

They deserve to be cared by bird lovers
They can’t take place of eye movers
Still they are haunted by everybody
They come and eat unnoticed by anybody

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A hate, love syndrome

“Shut up, shut up, shut up and go away”
I threw the stone at crow to scare away
It was disturbing me with unpleasant voice
It was making me irritant with noise

I don’t know whether it was because of look
Appearance in early morning on hook
I couldn’t make out exact reason for dislike
Bird was on lovely earth flying like kite

Music leaves impact on blind and even on deaf
It is opening of new day like emergence of new leaf
Human being always loved beautiful birds
I sat in silence and peacefully heard

I was spell bound by the melodious songs
It stops person from doing anything wrong
It has blessings from the divine power
Always worshiped and found for an answer

I couldn’t distinguish what was wrong with black crow
It had all the freedom to live in environment and grow
How cuckoo could create spell bound magic?
Why crow failed to appeal with music?

It makes lot of difference when hear in bird's voice
What a melody in the ears in the morning devoid of noise?
Think of vigor and strength that it offers to ailing body
Health with music and stable mind is anybody's guess in body

Well both were meant to serve as good carriage
One with melody and another with clearance of garbage
One for fine health of individual and another for mass
There were different but with same important class

Only irritant was simply unpleasant voice
How to compare melody with noise?
I thought I must be rationale in approach
It was visibly seen in day light without any torch

We tend to bear one sided view
We sometimes offend person which not due
It is inherent weakness of fragile mind
Such situation you will never find

Generally we fail to hide our displeasure
It is not yardstick for anything to measure
I hate crow for no reason and am also not sure
There may not be any medicine for it to cure

We fail to recognize the contribution they made by them
They are the factor for our healthy state and real gem
Think of scattered garbage and bad odor in the street
How can music appeal to you when dirty things to meet?

Scavengers, messengers or apostle of anything you call
You must like them whether you see them on tree or wall
There are here to serve you for mental and body health
They are inseparable part of our life and real wealth

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A day to start with....

Why our day starts with beautiful music in ear?
Why it doesn’t fail even for single day in year?
Cuckoo airs melody at an appointed hour
Whole atmosphere echoes it with good odor

All birds have special character
We may find them usually in every sector
They have their own specialty to serve the mankind
Each one holds prominence and has specialty of its kind

Cuckoo is only one bird with melodious voice
We exclaim and appreciate without any choice
She airs lovely music in air when breeze is cool
Arrival of sun shine with her song may alert even fool

It is pleasant to hear her voice with music
It generates thrill and creates good magic
God might have gifted it to one in million
Music with beauty is considered as real union

Cuckoo is black but considered as melody queen
Everybody may listen to and seems to be very keen
Pigeon may be called peace ambassador
Cuckoo too may be called God's messenger

It is early definitely some signal in the morning
Telling the world about impeding danger and stern warning
“You be sweet to all” and remain close to heart
Jump to brisk but later on turn it to good start

Nature is very kind to human being
It doesn’t differentiate between poor and king
Its flow is uniform and even in all the direction
Seasons too follow the suit with equal action

In every action you may witness complete harmony
It may not be possible with us or in fact with many
It is tragedy and must be looked as not good sign
We must love to live with peace and feel fine

If birds don’t ignore the nature then why do we?
Why we remove the trees and make them refugee
We loose the shed and they loose the home
We know nothing and aimlessly roam

Nature never deserts us and offer fine place
How easily we can forget and replace?
We can act thankless and invite the wrath
It is one step away from loosing faith

Had there been any other option for us to follow?
We could have made the land to go barren and allow
Complete destruction of natural property to pave the way
For other things to come up and permanently stay

No body can save us from possible fall out
It will be no retreat but invitation to drought
Complete extermination of mankind without battles fought
What do we seek in reality? Survival or rout?

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cuckoo

All birds are distinct and have special character
We may not find them usually in every sector
They have their own way to serve the mankind
Each one holds prominence and has specialists of its kind

Cuckoo is only one with melodious voice
We exclaim and appreciate without any choice
She can air lovely music in air when breeze is cool
Arrival of sun shine may alert even fool

When air is thick with silence and peace
Cuckoo spreads music with simple ease
It may erase any sadness of previous day
New pulse and thoughts with simple way

Pleasant voice is simple music
Generates thrill and creates magic
God may gift it to one in million
Music with beauty may be real union

Cuckoo is black but melody queen
Everybody may listen to and very keen
Pigeon may be called peace ambassador
Cuckoo too may be God’s messenger

I may pray and wish her daily appearance
Draw the inspiration with simple inference
Should we not shed our daily difference?
Cuckoo may serve as ready made reference

We may prefer more cuckoos to crow
Never we feel older, even if grow
Life may be steady with space very slow
With melodious voice face may shine and glow

How this music has come into being?
You get music if you blow in hollow ring
Nature has its own course of providing music
It has natural blessings to serve spell of magic

Flowers, waterfalls and river add to melody
Music to ears is passion for everybody
Lovely cuckoo does it again for mankind
Morning peace descends on earth and pleases mind

Music leaves impact on blind and deaf
It is opening of new kind such as leaf
Human being always loved beautiful bird
Set in silence and peacefully heard

We are spell bound by the melodious songs
It stops person from doing anything wrong
It has blessings from the divine power
Always worshiped and found an answer

It makes lot of difference when it is heard in bird’s voice
What a melody in the ears in the morning devoid of noise
Think of vigor and strength that it offers to ailing body
Health with music and stable mind is anybody’s guess in body

Music has in built wonders in itself
Even birds can do it without any help
If we can resume and get aligned to theme
It is only way open to reach to HIM

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Undiscovered Fresh Dirt

'Did you not say this was undiscovered,
Fresh dirt?
This is the same dirt that has been here for years.
What is so unique about it? '

How it just lays there under the Sun!
Remember how it use to kick up dust...
When others rushed here to try to find something?
Different from what it had been then?

'Why 'now' is this so important to you? '

Oh, it's not!
I just thought if I told you it was undiscovered,
Fresh dirt...
You'd be the first to spread the rumor!
I had no idea you would see it like I do.
It's the same stuff, right?

'You must be running out of ideas,
To keep your name scandalized? '

Well,
I must admit...
It isn't getting any easier.
I remember the days when I didn't have to think,
To be innovative!
Today...
Everybody wants to get in on the act.
And I had been crowned 'King of Eccentricities'!
Remember?

'Man,
You are not in your right mind.'

Thank you!
At least I know you and I will always remain good friends.
You are quick to identify that.
And that is why I am not afraid to expose it to you,
At all.
Come on...
Let's do lunch.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Can I Dry Clean?

washing the clean linen in dirty water,
makes the clothes to be dirty and colored,
white clothe will invite the color of contrast,
color of the water that it is dipped into.

When we think of the ills and manipulate with evils,
the souls that are born white, will be colored,
when we wash the evil thoughts in evil solutions,
our souls will be soiled, colored and in illusion.

believing the color that we possess is the brightest,
If it is the brightest of white, as white is pure,
then it is all right, even if we are in other colors,
don't worry, it can be bleached to white.

White and black are two extreme colors,
with extreme characters and properties,
when the white reflects everything as good actions,
the black absorbs everything as the mother nature.

Between these two colors,
there are thousands of colors,
blending of seven colors of rain bow,
where we live and be happy and sorrow.

Washing the clean linen of any color,
in the water of dirt and sediment,
will make the linen dirty and soiled,
Where shall we find the clean water,
to wash our dirty souls of multiple colors?

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Prize For Comments

I wish here a good prize for comments
It may then be called nice movement
Rare phenomena to encourage new poets
Who otherwise remain in oblivion and prefer to be quiet

We can force no one to read
Yet can provide clue to lead
A momentum to make thrust
For developing skill and trust

Generally I see prominent people find the place
Rest all are seemed to be left out of race
Only few people adore the quarter
Rest all are awaiting break for their starter

Poems do emerge in human mind
As it is divine place to rest and find
What can be beneficial to intelligent people?
As rest even may not understand after making great struggle

I wish and plead for something to prove concrete
Let for one post at least two new comers are greeted
With the deserving comment if that is due
If not by readers then editors must view

With this noble ideas the base may be expanded
The courtesy and honor must be extended
We may have lot many hidden jewels
Those may find light and certainly excel

Just a wish and nothing in person
Yet that must be taken positively with reasons
We may surely fuel the new energy on horizon
Where old and new may combined from all zones

It may not take place in days ahead
But my humble views may certainly be read
Any attempt at revival may afterward then be certainly dead
If we fail to gasp the mood and provide the lead

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stupidity

Am so stupid so prefer to write about stupidity,
Think so much from within and feel pity,
Outwardly I m so intelligent but still guilty,
Act and talk wise but involve in politics dirty,

It is maser piece of simplicity,
Look so humble and avail best facility,
Who knows what am I? Man or deity?
But under the guise of stupidity known ability,

I spend lavishly on charitable work,
On table I eat with spoon and fork,
Among the poor sit on floor and share,
Show the visible closeness and care,

People comment it is mere stupidity,
I laugh and utter it has sound validity,
Why I should remain in close vicinity?
Exposing less nobility and more infidelity,

I have learned the art of deceiving skill,
No weapons in hand but instinct to kill,
Corner all benefits at ease with good will,
Still remain unconcerned and no bitter pill,

Work well and still look stupid and fool,
All enjoy fruits and I have to remain cool,
It won’t find favour with me and I reject,
So to act with stupidity and new ideas inject,

Nobody will pay any special attention,
This will save me from possible tension,
You know politicians now get easy pension,
Thought no work done but with all mention,

So I love stupidity and take pride,
People feel pity but I never hide,
I act stupid but things do clever,
Always upper hand and mistakes fewer,

I love to be and prefer being hated most,
Gain always more but almost nothing is lost,
It s blessing in disguise or opportunity offered,
Rest who are clever and intelligent always suffered

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Would Ask My Inner Voice

'Do I have a choice? '
I would ask my inner voice.

~Does a bird fly with one wing?
Is a ventriloquist near by,
When you hear that bird sing?
Have you seen a rabbit hop on one foot?
Does a fish swimming freely beg to be hooked? ~

'Do I have a choice? '
I would ask my inner voice.

~Your guess is as good as mine.
If you believe you have a choice,
Why are you wasting my time? ~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An innovative way

Join, join, join, join laughing club
Worry, tension at home and not at club
Raise your hands and loudly laugh,
Belly should go in and look only half,

In parking lot or in green garden
Under shed of trees where fruits are laden,
Fresh morning air and hanky round hair
Avoid sitting at home in the easy chair

People may laugh or cut even jokes
You may find discomfort at their pokes
You are very safe and free from pollution or smokes
Start the exercise lightly after brief walks

Fresh intake of air and slowly to inhale
You may feel big as big as fish whale
This is not joke, hear say or simple tale
Cheeks may become rosy and not look pale,

Well, any exercise in morning, is good for health,
Not it to be compared with money or wealth,
If health is good everything will be good
Morning will be cheerful with good mood

Open laugh with big noise may scare all
It may look as if received distress call,
But it helps to remove tension,
Disease may be far away and out of question

All steps are taken to keep one always fit
It required some standard ready to be met
Remain calm and cool with healthy mind
Happiness and freshness one may always find

Why so much stress is laid on keeping good health?
Why there is no such importance to the money or wealth?
Why do we not deal that seriously with good habits?
It may tire us out and health may fall bit by bit

It is equally important to be cautious with age
One may be confined to bed as if put in cage
You may feel bad and run high in rage
It may be of no use as done with enough damage

It is good to be health cautious and watchful
In later stage of life it is also useful
If you remain hale and hearty with good health
No amount of compensation can supplement to death

In young age we are accustomed to certain bad habits
We pay less attention to food habits and neglect little bit
It becomes difficult to improve as time passed by
Health can never be regained and helplessly without any try

Let us not forget health is wealth
It has to be tackled or dealt with
It may prove disastrous if not properly looked after
There may be no use even if you take medicines as laughter

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All I Need From You Is That You Clean Me, Mama

you lay a mat on the floor
for you to understand dirt and its implications its complications
to the wall
or to the center table and to the rest of the parts of your house,
dirt must be eradicated, that is your rule number one,
so you put lots of mats and rugs, doormats, floormats,
in every door in every corner of the floor

all dirts are not welcome,
it is as though you have studied dirt at length for years,
what is dirt? what are the kinds of dirt? the causes of dirt?
the consequences of dirt? the historical background of dirt,
and your recommendations finally about
dirt
its control and eradication,

you have talked about dirt and how you disliked it,
how you have driven dirt away from this house
how you called they police when dirt resisted to leave
and of course they all were arrested and jailed
without bond
the judge convicted dirt on the basis of those dirty exhibits
and dirty testimonial evidence,

dirt must be poisoned by lethal injection, hanged, electrocuted,
to make them disappear forever
that is your firm belief
your solid conviction

the sound philosophy of
your society

you are talking to me, and i will now tell you who am i really,
my name, the place where i live, my family and how i am related to you,

mother, i am dirt, my name is dirty, my family is dirty,
i live in a dirty place, i am your son,

i cannot step on your doormat, immediately i must leave now
you will report me to the police and i will be arrested
and jailed and even be hanged dead,

all i need is only that you clean me, mama.
now, please........

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A place called hell

Some one reminded me of a place called hell
Lonely place where every one is doing well
All let loose strange stories around
No basis whatsoever or any images are found

No one may argue in favor of a hell
Generally all may not favor it at all
In their opinion they all did well to be in heaven
Though they have no faint idea even

They have done nothing to find place in this place
They did all whatever they could do to malign the race
At final time they decided to donate some tip of wealth
They knew it well at end of the game with deterioration in health

Some one may go even further to advocate
In the memory of parents some good steps they will indicate
Raising of temple or some orphanage in their name
At least this will save them for some shame

They have all praise for departed soul
The soul had lived noble life with no mistakes or foul
The God only knew how noble and honest he was?
The end was imminent but this was only pause

The heaven has many exits and inlets
Only innocent and nobles are let
Rest all sent to very nice place called hell
There they will spend their life very well

So if some one is referring heaven we should take it for hell
All horrified stories are known to all but now no need to tell
Human ears are not used to hear unpleasant remarks
Though they praise dear ones with full marks

How the hell can be different from atmosphere?
Why the people get afraid with so much fear?
When it is known that only nice people with have entry?
Rest all will be waiting in sun without shed of the tree

Well it is generally accepted that there is another world
Where there is no foe or friend or hot and cold
Everything is same and no difficulty at all
Still untruth may block it like wall

I fearlessly taught and advocated about good or bad
There is nothing to be felt as pain, agony or remain sad
The end may be peaceful and all set to depart
There may be found two gates painted with art

It will remind us of our past
The life might have been over very fast
It was now turn to pack up and say good bye
Even though we had lived happily with very good try

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Elevated...

Rarest of things, often small in number,
like Gold, Diamond, precious things, remember.
People, attracted towards it only for pleasure,
with greed for material, is beyond one's measure.

Amassing wealth beyond one's need,
Often grows that ego from the Devil's seed,
and that tree bears the fruits of sorrow,
once eaten your thoughts for good deeds do narrow.

Often People flock around you just for your money,
away they will go their way, when they find you don't have any,
The real wealth comes from the happiness you share,
from service to mankind, you'll find people who care.

Put all that abundance into good, noble deed,
soon you'll find peace, and thus departs your greed.
you will take a position of a happiness giver,
because you will be elevated in the minds of people forever.

poem by Deepak Calyampoondi
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Dirty Jim

THERE was one little Jim,
'Tis reported of him,
And must be to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face.

His friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt,
And often they made him quite clean;
But all was in vain,
He got dirty again,
And not at all fit to be seen.

It gave him no pain
To hear them complain,
Nor his own dirty clothes to survey:
His indolent mind
No pleasure could find
In tidy and wholesome array.

The idle and bad,
Like this little lad,
May love dirty ways, to be sure;
But good boys are seen
To be decent and clean,
Although they are ever so poor.

poem by Ann Taylor
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Dirty Martini

Two in the morning there's a drink in my hand
(Dirt, dirt, dirty Martini)
Nothing moving the place but sweat
I heard a rumour 'bout a Cajun band
(Dirt, dirt, dirty Martini)
The bartender says it's early yet
Wait the bartender says it's early yet
Too many olives in too much gin
Steppin' out in the City of Sin
Too much dirty rice and too many beans
Gettin' down and dirty down in New Orleans
Gettin' down and dirty down in New Orleans
Have another, i believe i will
(Dirt, dirt, dirty Martini)
And you can stir it with a dirty spoon
There's a perscription i've gotta fill
(Dirt, dirt, dirty Martini)
And the Doctor's gonna be here soon
Jimmy says the Doctor's gonna be here soon
Too many olives in too much gin
Steppin' out in the City of Sin
Too much dirty rice and too many beans
Gettin' down and dirty down in New Orleans
Gettin' down and dirty down in New Orleans

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dirty Jim

THERE was one little Jim,
'Tis reported of him,
And must be to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face. . . .

His friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt,
And often they made him quite clean;
But all was in vain,
He got dirty again,
And not at all fit to be seen.

It gave him no pain
To hear them complain,
Nor his own dirty clothes to survey:
His indolent mind
No pleasure could find
In tidy and wholesome array.

The idle and bad,
Like this little lad,
May love dirty ways, to be sure;
But good boys are seen
To be decent and clean,
Although they are ever so poor.

poem by Jane Taylor
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The Common Crow

The Common Crow, "Caw-Caw"—with its familiar sound
Is a harmless bird very adaptable on land
Almost all over the world it is invariably found
Except in South America, Antarctica and New Zealand.

It is of average size—in color—grey and black
And abounds, teems and thrives in many numbers
Where other birds' survival is considerably slack
As it is the most intelligent of its bird family members.

The Ravens, Magpies, Rooks, the Black-birds
And the Jays—all belong to the family of the crow
They are all hunting migratory birds
Who forage together like the crow.

It has shining black feathers, is clever and curious
It is omnivorous and the diet is very diverse
It eats grains, rodents, insects and is mischievous
And swoops down to grasp things from man's source.

It roosts in large trees high up
Each mating pair has its own nest
Which usually takes one to two weeks to build up
Gathering leaves, feathers, sticks and twigs best.

Baby crows stay in the nest
For up to two months before leaving
The mother crow guards them with zest
And the father crow feeds the family striving.

The young are flesh-colored and born blind
Their eyes open for the first time after five days
The young ones- the family together mind
The elder fledglings tend to help in their own ways.

In Hinduism it is customary to offer food
To the crow before taking the meal
And it is supposed during ‘Shraddha ‘expired ones would
Take food and offerings through the crow's feel.

The crow often lives together in large families
An assembly of crows called a ‘flock of murder'
Forge together and defend their territories
Even high up in the air and down under.

It caws and calls the other crows to its station
To take part of the food that is found
It shows signs of planning communication
Which man must consider and himself bound.

The bird's propensity to raid crops of grain bead
And storing tidbits in trees and crevices in bark
Is the reason ‘Scare crows' are put up to mislead
The crows flock of flights on the crops to embark.

Many crows are surprisingly monogamous
They mate for life and are throughout a pair
The crow belongs to the species Corvus
And up to twenty years it may live with care.

poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Efforts Still

One, two and three
You will never be free
Go on counting and accumulate
Nothing more will remain to relate

Life may end fast
No time for you to choose and last
Rests of all will lye here for some one
No one shall care for your dead body even

It may be taken fast out
So many things will be left to talk about
Personal memory may remain in people's mind
Soon to test its worth from praise to find

No one may say bad words about departed person
But many may remember his noble work with reasons
His ashes may carry no value for world
But to some yes it may be warm feelings and not cold

Look at worthiness of human life
Even though it is sharp like knife
Not all may earn good will
Yet you got to make efforts still

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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It's striking that Native Americans evolved no devastating epidemic diseases to give to Europeans, in return for the many devastating epidemic diseases that Indians received from the Old World.

quote by Jared Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Beautiful Garden

Love blossoms in beautiful garden
Flowers boom in colorful shape even
Some fully spread and some just coming out
This is how the life brings change about

Do the flowers need any show?
Do they need some support to grow?
Not at all as it is natural change
It has taken place with the emergence of age

Flowers have natural tendency to attract
It is argument supported by fact
Whether you like or dislike, it can’t be denied
The real fact remains to be seen and can’t be lied

Flowers too need good environment
Lovely people to look at with nice comments
If nature does not find its lovers
Its importance will not be lost however

It has direct relation with good music
What ever seen and observed is accepted as basic
Think of cool breeze in early morning with bird’s voice
You may definitely dislike the little disturbing noise

It makes you to sink over lost opportunities
There is enough of time to think over its futilities
But some changes are always welcome
They are certain and bound to come

In life you may need partner
It has to happen sooner or later
If that is synchronized to the tune
Life will become sweet with fortune

Garden may look barren without flowers
Land may look deserted without rain showers
It is natural blessings that you got to respond
Your wish and goal definitely corresponds

Life has to be challenging with enterprise
It must move on even with surprises
How a flower can be looked with out fragrance?
Life too will be looked without charm without its presence

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Traveling Wind

I feel a breeze of wind
It is as soft as a baby
It travels along the land
It comforts the grass that beetles, ants, and grasshoppers make their way through
Ants continue to make their home that is only but dirt to humans
Dirt to ants is a brick to build a home
The breeze of wind continues to travel
The black and orange bird looks for food
It chirps around
It pecks in the grass
The bird finally travels away along with the wind
All is quiet but the crying of the leaves that are sticking out of the ground
Their hands, which are thorns, are reaching out to be comforted
The traveling wind goes and comforts them
Th wind travels elsewhere

poem by Pamela Mote
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