Humanitarian theme
I came across enthusiastic person
So many dreams in life and to be realized with reasons
To undertake on the spot study about misery and plight
To wage a war against poverty and in real terms a fight
In his opinion it was crusade or holy war
So far he had not come out of his luxury car
He had specious villa and many servants to the service
Yes he felt like doing some noble service with promises
He used to boost me about his venture
Jokingly we may remind him about adventure
He will jump to his feet and make it sure
He will take it in no time in near future
He had heard about old people and not looked after well
Left alone by their children with horrified tell
Full of pathetic condition and almost tears in eyes
What was left for him to decide and earnestly try?
He took his car and preferred long drive in country yard
They were not far away but lived life substandard
Not enough to feed for family and for aged parent
They had all the curses for self only to resent
"It can't be called adventure" I will pose question and satire
What you dream about can not be called as your future?
Millions rot in same condition here
Make your thrust felt in real areas or somewhere
"Some kind of interest is to be developed"
You are future hope and must think how it can be stopped
Pick your carrier and start form grass root level
You ambition and goal may certainly speak well
He was persuaded to remain realistic
As he had not even figures which can be called statistic
He decided to look through all relative terms
And then go on with the schemes to deliver in turn
I wished him success in life and prosper
Many people may simple dream abut and whisper
Here was person with at least some novel scheme
With no clue how to start with yet working on humanitarian theme
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
Reborn
(6/11/12)
I have been reborn for my life had been
Broken, shattered, and torn.
No future could I see
Till the day you came into me.
You opened my eyes to everything around
Including the people " I had put down".
You opened my heart to other peoples feelings
And left my mind completely reeling.
How could I have been so cold, so ruthless
To others needs, and on their sorrows I did feed.
I thought by climbing the ladder of success
I had to put down all the rest.
Then in a dream I saw myself being lowered
Down into the ground, and not one friend
Or family member to be found.
There was not one tear shed for me
Because of the way I used to be.
I woke up in a cold sweat, my hands
were trembling, My eyes were wet.
I had cried in that dream
For my life I had seen.
I fell to my knees and started to cry
When I felt you by my side.
I asked you: "if when I ask a question
And it was your will
If in my body I'd feel a chill."
You gave me the answers to change my life around
And in you - a new life I had found.
poem by Louis Rams
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My Future
"Let's make him a sailor," said Father,
"And he will adventure the sea."
"A soldier," said Mother, "is rather
What I would prefer him to be."
"A lawyer," said Father, "would please me,
For then he could draw up my will."
"A doctor," said Mother, "would ease me;
Maybe he could give me a pill."
Said Father: "Lt's make him a curate,
A Bishop in gaiters to be."
Said Mother: "I couldn't endure it
To have Willie preaching to me."
Said Father: ""Let him be a poet;
So often he's gathering wool."
Said Mother with temper: "Oh stow it!
You know it, a poet's a fool."
Said Farther: "Your son is a duffer,
A stupid and mischievous elf."
Said Mother, who's rather a huffer:
"That's right - he takes after yourself."
Controlling parental emotion
They turned to me, seeking a cue,
And sudden conceived the bright notion
To ask what I wanted to do.
Said I: "my ambition is modest:
A clown in a circus I'd be,
And turn somersaults in the sawdust
With audience laughing at me."
. . . Poor parents! they're dead and decaying,
But I am a clown as you see;
And though in no circus I'm playing,
How people are laughing at me!
poem by Robert William Service
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Miser man
He died as miser man
Collected wealth as much as possible
Cared for no poor or relatives
Put no value in his eyes for any kind of services
No one took notice of his death
Forgot even about laying the wreath
He had no one to be called his dear friend
He lived daily but only to be died at each moment
He left behind enormous fortune
No one could count it to correct tune
May be scattered all over unaccounted
Recovery of it was highly doubted
People live on simple food as forbidden by doctor
They have enough of everything but can't perform as an actor
They have limited mobility and nothing is of any use
Life becomes burden and adds more to confuse
Why not live life to full extent?
Why should there be left any corner to resent?
Why at all some one should be harmed for no cause?
Life can be over at any time making "was" from "is"
Some of us take little solace
Bear smile and move with nice face
Extend little help and boost more
They too can be called miser therefore
Not necessarily all must become donors
Not all must opt for or act as saviors
Only soft approach needed towards fellow man
Two kind words, if at all, to make him feel as human
Are we struggling for making only ends to meet?
Is it not possible to say hello to everybody and greet?
It needs no answer from any one but simple recognition
Our emotions are highly volatile in nature and burst from simple ignition
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Nomenclature
My mother never heard of Freud
and she decided as a little girl
that she would call her husband Dick
no matter what his first name was
and did. He called her Ditty. They
called me Bud, and our generic names
amused my analyst. That must, she said,
explain the crazy times I had in bed
and quoted Freud: "Life is pain."
"What do women want?" and "My
prosthesis does not speak French."
poem by Alan Dugan
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I did not cry
In that day I didn't cry
I didn't know exactly why?
People around and relatives wept
But not all tears except one I had kept
He was laid on the ground
Very quietly and peacefully found
He deserved praises from all
Now I feared all tears may fall
He was man of principles and known as down to earth
He was not at all afraid of death
He used to say" life may be over one day"
Hence never loose patience all the way
Enjoy with whatever you have
Treat all equal and nicely behave
Words may fall as if from sage's tongue
Crystal clear with echo and not a vague
"Dear son, I have a high hope in you"
Never loose a hope and always prove true
I was always upset with his advices
As if he was about to leave me on his demise
He lived his life peacefully
Not all the people might have proved it successfully
I was sure of his life mission
"Life for the people" was his dear ambition
How can I weep over his demise?
When he had taken from me a promise
I will not dropp a tear for whatever reason
As he was not for me at all as single person
I had spent most of my time with the forces
But he had never regretted with simple word of remorse
I controlled my emotions with great difficulty
As he had told me not to feel any kind of sorry
: "Life is not what people firmly believe in and lead"
He used to tell me in private "people must observe and read"
What you are doing and how are you useful for the noble cause?
He may then take deep breath and wait for my response
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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By name
I am called Hasmukh* by name
Exactly to be understood as smiling man and to claim
I feel no shy in explaining self to all
As many friends ask and make frequent calls
Why you are not named crying person?
Some friends jokingly asked for reasons
"No, parents decided it" I used to answer
They were my custodian and after all mentor
There is tradition to name a child with meaningful name
Some times they may be so funny and exactly opposite to claim
Child may be named as chand*(moon) but to be as dark as black
Some people may call him as dark night and cut a simple joke
Some parents may be really poor but keep name as Sukhi*(happy)
In fact they may have no meals to eat and living in misery
Yet it is strange to name every child with good bearing
It is done with all fun fare and without cause of worrying
There is nothing special in name but still stands good
Each person is known by name, position and surely understood
So this tradition, by and large, adds to person's glory
"See person has proved to his name" people may exclaim and attach story
What is left behind when you depart?
Name, statue, palaces or golden cart
Nothing will accompany you at the end
Some memory to be remembered by family and friends
• hasmukh … name…
• Chand ….. Moon
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Human relation
"To dig one's own grave"
Nice attempt to behave
One should be called brave
As he can claim little sense to have
It is order of the day
Everybody wants to have little say
For nice effort in bringing down the tree
As we have liberty to pull it down free
Kill a person and get bail
Commit the scam for facilities to avail
Cause the pain and trouble the innocents
Enjoy the life and never resent
This is what we are doing today
In the name of progress all the way
Majority of people suffer and only few enjoy
Lead the life in luxury with almost decoy
Bread and essential commodity has become rare
Two square meals now no one can dare
It is called luxury to dream and have
Men in street have nothing more to crave
We are calling for revolution
Spend the time in passing the resolutions
It all remains in paper
People are on rampage over distribution of water
Who will bell the cat?
Where is enough to eat?
Grain rot in open
Naked eyes can see it even
We are free and democratic
Depend on figures and statistics
Millions die daily of starvation
Little aid reaches on the name human relation
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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An incomplete soul of a woman
Often you have called me
"Complete"
Often you have called me
"A full woman"
And today you ask me
What in life I lack?
Love…
If you had ever guessed
You would have known
How very "incomplete" I am.
Half my life I have spent
Waiting for you....
Searching for you...
In every passing strangers eyes.
Now when you finally are here
You stand a stranger
Closest to the heart,
Like the shadow of the dusk
Very much my own,
Yet distant, like a dream.
I know you are mine
Just as am i
solely yours,
Yet will always stand apart as
"we" are nobodies nobody.
The feeling is so pure,
Pristine like the dawn
And its dew.
Yet wrapped in ugly sheets of guilt
it will always lie buried
in deep caverns of shame.
And like thieves two,
We will always hide,
What is so beautiful,
So serene, so true.
I am not complete…
How can i?
When I am destined to live
This life with you
Yet without you.
I am not a full woman…
How can i?
When I am to wither away and die..
Somewhere very close to you
Yet far away from your sight.
Yes, I will always remain
"in-complete".
An incomplete soul of a woman.
poem by Anjali Kakati
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On line
"How are you one line" I spoke to a friend
You are dead for many years and again you are at telephone end
"I heard the same about you, how come you as ghost here"
He will delightedly reply and we may joke for hours
It is always good to remain in contact
Personally it helps to change attitudinal act
You disclose to a friend all troubling facts
He may sometimes come to help and set
"Can you please put him on line" I called on
"No, you can't and they gently hung on'
I dialed again to receive a voice in tears
It proved my worst compounded fears
I had not seen him for days and months
Some solitary though struck to my mind for his possible death
I brushed aside such rubbish idea and rested
But here news proved correct and my patience was tested
I nearly broke down at tragic news
He was dead for weaks and known to only few
I was in dark and felt tremendous shock
He was on pilgrimage and had suffered massive stroke
I felt restless and thought about limitation of existence
How much we fight and struggle to make felt our presence
Life winds up without a moments notice and person is no more
We can only feel bad rest of the time and remain very sore
We are human being and as such care for with attachment
Dear ones are always at heart and remain part of daily movement
Not a day passes without them and we share all our happiness
This is real story of our life and we grieve losses on face
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Husband and Wife
I would love to sleep on roses
There won’t be any danger like to pose
It has its own importance and charm
It keeps man in good form and warm
Its impression is as such
It is associated with love as much
Love and roses are not two terms
Both are interlinked in turn
When lovers are presented with rose’s bed?
How kindly they may feel when actually lead!
Thousands of dreams to be realized soon
To dream about future nights in the noon
The life adventure is on in different manner
We need no advices from trainer
Everybody knows what is expected in long run
Life can be made joyous and full of fun
The place is unique to meet future companion
The promises to be exchanged in true union
Then roses can be witness in glamorous world
No worry at that time when ready to choose the fold
It may then be different and wonderful place
Both may bear the burden with happy faces
What will remain then as mystery of real life
Couple to be addressed as husband and wife
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Has Anyone Got The Time
Dreams live far in the future,
Memories dwell back in the past,
The only time that is real,
Is now, and it surely won't last,
This is the moment to live,
The only time that is true,
All other times are irrelevant,
Now is the time to be you.
The time to enjoy, is here now,
Because "now", will not happen again,
This time is unique and un-charted,
So make happy the memories that remain.
You may plan for the future you wish,
You may save, and prepare, even steer,
But the future is coming; you can't change it,
Re-arrange it, or stop it, or veer.
On arrival, it's "now"; you must live it,
For in a fleeting moment, it's gone,
Then all that is left is the memory,
The future is coming……………….it's gone!
From my recently published book; 'By The Way...' By Derek A. Sim
poem by Derek. A. Sim
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Young Henry
Air -- "Drummer Boy of Waterloo"
Young Henry was as faithful boy
As ever stood on the American soil,
And he did enlist, without a doubt,
When the rebellion was broke out.
He was his parents' only son,
And only child he was but one,
That was a girl aged seventeen,
Henry called her his May Queen.
Young Henry said, "Dear sister May,
What do you think my friends will say?
For now my name is on the roll,
And I down south will have to go."
"I hear my country's call," said he,
"For all her sons of liberty,
And I, forever, will prove true
To that dear old flag, red, white and blue."
"I love my father and mother dear,
I leave you, May, their hearts to cheer;
When I am gone, pray do not mourn
If I should never return home."
His sister then to him did say,
"My only brother, blithe and gay,
Our country calls, calls from afar;
May God protect you through the war."
Their father hearing all was said,
It made his noble heart grow sad;
"My children, I love both of you,
And yet I love my country, too."
"My son, if I was young again,
I never could at home remain,
And see my native land, now free,
Dissolved and made in slavery."
Young Henry left his father's home,
And left his friends for him to mourn,
A captain of a little band,
He marched away from Michigan.
In the battle of Fredericksburg,
Above the battle roar was heard,
"Fight on! fight on! brave boys," he cried,
"I am shot and wounded, and must die."
They placed his head upon the grass,
So he could see his brave boys pass;
"Go tell my father, Henry's slain
To keep him from the rebel's chain."
They dug his grave beneath that spot,
They wrapped him in his soldier's coat,
And while the battle drums they heard,
They laid him low at Fredericksburg.
poem by Julia A Moore
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An Apology for Technology
Technology can become very mean
By robbing the "I" with a machine.
Whether "I" Phone, "I" Tune or "I" Pad
The result can be magnanimously bad!
If you let the computer assume the rule,
You'll lose contacts and become the tool.
The box will wake you, remind you or find you;
It can help you calculate and recreate too.
Ah yes, technology can be a valuable assist,
But it's with real people that success will exist.
So don't become a slave to that little screen.
Each person can be a client… not the machine.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Nice to see you
"Hello, nice to see you here"
I was stunned to hear her
She was long time friend on line
I felt so excited and very fine
I wished her a happy life and good health
And she reciprocated it with equal warmth
"What a way to remember long time friend!
Even if with not in speaking terms can be mended
I felt like rushing to her
She was nice and very kind to care
I memorized her by saying many good things
You remember a friend for small or minute things
She was quick enough to invite in her land
An invitation very rare to refuse from friend
I was so much moved by her gesture
Saw an opportunity to see her in future
How do you remember so minutely?
I asked her in confidence lately
She was firm with reply and smiled
"You are so sweet" her reply was styled
You are white skinned woman
And I am man of dark complexion
She was not hesitant and acknowledged
Nice gesture with good humor well managed
It is common to find a person
You find some good things with reasons
But to stay for long with absence
And come out with same eagerness is real essence
You are lovely man with good nature
She was summing up with bold posture
I felt heavenly under the sky
She was worth to remember and try
As I was approaching evening in life
To find life time friend is to experience an edge of knife
It is difficult to judge and understand mentality
Yet it proved as an acid test with very good quality
I wondered about water pond in desert
She was same with all love to insert
I felt it unique in this hostile world
I felt gracious act on her part and lucky to be in her fold
People take an affront to friendship
Someone may remark it with bad sportsmanship
I always disregard their opinion and continue to surge
Accede to request and go on making new friends with strong urge
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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God's Grief
"Lord God of Hosts," the people pray,
"Make strong our arms that we may slay
Our cursed foe and win the day."
"Lord God of Battles," cries the foe,
"Guide us to strike a bloody blow,
And lay the adversary low."
But brooding o'er the battle smother
Bewails the Lord: "Brother to brother,
Why must ye slaughter one another?
When will ye come to understand
My peace, and hand reach out to hand,
In every race, in every land?"
And yet, his weary words despite,
Went murderously on the fight,
Till God from mankind hid His sight,
Saying: "Poor children, must you gain
To brotherhood through millions slain?
--Was anguish on the Cross in vain?"
poem by Robert William Service
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If Trees Could Talk
If trees could talk, what would they say?
That would definitely be question of the day.
They'd say, "Help us! Help us! We're being chopped down! "
That wouldn't help as our oxygen would frown.
They'd say, "Help us! We're being turned into furniture! "
That doesn't sound like much of an adventure.
They'd say, "Help us! Our branches are losing leaves! "
That shouldn't be the case until Christmas Eve.
If trees could talk, what would they say?
They'd say, "We watch the children who like to play."
There are some nice things too that trees would utter,
Like, "We're as important to life as bread is to butter."
Sadly, trees are like some of us; they speak in silence.
But do they really deserve to be treated with violence?
poem by Stephen Cahill Furlong
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Michael
"There's something in your face, Michael, I've seen it all the day;
There's something quare that wasn't there when first ye wint away. . . ."
"It's just the Army life, mother, the drill, the left and right,
That puts the stiffinin' in yer spine and locks yer jaw up tight. . . ."
"There's something in your eyes, Michael, an' how they stare and stare --
You're lookin' at me now, me boy, as if I wasn't there. . . ."
"It's just the things I've seen, mother, the sights that come and come,
A bit o' broken, bloody pulp that used to be a chum. . . ."
"There's something on your heart, Michael, that makes ye wake at night,
And often when I hear ye moan, I trimble in me fright. . . ."
"It's just a man I killed, mother, a mother's son like me;
It seems he's always hauntin' me, he'll never let me be. . . ."
"But maybe he was bad, Michael, maybe it was right
To kill the inimy you hate in fair and honest fight. . . ."
"I did not hate at all, mother; he never did me harm;
I think he was a lad like me, who worked upon a farm. . . ."
"And what's it all about, Michael; why did you have to go,
A quiet, peaceful lad like you, and we were happy so? . . ."
"It's thim that's up above, mother, it's thim that sits an' rules;
We've got to fight the wars they make, it's us as are the fools. . . ."
"And what will be the end, Michael, and what's the use, I say,
Of fightin' if whoever wins it's us that's got to pay? . . ."
"Oh, it will be the end, mother, when lads like him and me,
That sweat to feed the ones above, decide that we'll be free. . . ."
"And when will that day come, Michael, and when will fightin' cease,
And simple folks may till their soil and live and love in peace? . . ."
"It's coming soon and soon, mother, it's nearer every day,
When only men who work and sweat will have a word to say;
When all who earn their honest bread in every land and soil
Will claim the Brotherhood of Man, the Comradeship of Toil;
When we, the Workers, all demand: `What are we fighting for?' . . .
Then, then we'll end that stupid crime, that devil's madness -- War."
poem by Robert William Service
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Vain Words
Humble, surely, mine ambition;
It is merely to construct
Some occasion or condition
When I may say "usufruct."
Ernest am I and assiduous;
Yet I'm certain that I shan't amount
To a lot till I use "viduous,"
"Indiscerptible," and "tantamount."
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Walk with me
"Please, can you not walk with me"?
"Can you not share my burden and make me free"?
She was almost in tears and looked at my face
I had seen gradual change in her phase by phase
She was, not arrogant, but intoxicated by beauty
Almost blinded by money, power and dominant personality
No doubt she belonged to very much affluent family
But as an ordinary proud man I lived too very happily
We were almost drawn by qualities in contrast
Yet with super performance and influence to last
On people's mind with almost magic spell
She was associated with theatre and performing well
I am writer of original class and alone
She has her own murky world and adored by precious stones
I go with simple words and make honorable position
She goes like thunder storm with brain and beauty composition
We have never demanded anything to compromise
On the contrary struck with position and promises
She was all out for me and me totally for her
To stand by in all the situation and face together
I think she had realized about the short duration
Beautiful image and money should not come in the way of relation
With this firmness in mind she uttered "please"
I want your hand and make me at ease
I had waited all along for such event
This was one of the happiest moments
One of the beautiful figures on my side forever
I had to take many things into consideration however
I took split second decision and looked ahead
My eyes reassured her and took the lead
"You are my queen and jewel in crown"
Move few steps with me and make it known
"She may be happiest person" I thought
The happiness and joy was definitely brought
I failed to under why did she take long time?
Where as I was for her and had willingness any time
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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