Krishna Rajan; My Friend's Daughter in Kerala, India
Somarajan!
We worked together in port of Salalah
Sultanate of Oman.
Still he works there
And I am here.
Krishna; His daughter's going to marry in August.
O the small girl who contributed the cover illustration for my poetry anthology.(Translation of Isikawa's Sad Toys)
Happy to hear your wedding, daughter I wish you all the best!
Your Dad is a good friend of mine that you know
And I hope his dreams come true soon.
He's my computer 'Guru' and unless his guidance
I could have never come to a poetry site?
Not only that he introduced me an Indian Rum
'Old Monk'. O still I feel that smooth hangover.
There is a vast distance in between Pacific and Indian Ocean.
On that auspicious day perhaps a guest in your proximity
Who visits there without an invitation on behalf of me.
I am sure you all give him a friendly smile.
Enjoy the life though it's not a silk road!
(A humble dedication to Somarajan in gratitude.)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Hedgehog
I remember the days when I was in port of Salalah,
Sultanate of Oman.
I was working in Port controllers building a mountain top.
It's really interesting, you crawled in the midnight and I offered you a bowl of rice,
in gratitude you left me a spine.
Still I am holding that curious gift.
You too a Mammal and that may be the reason
why you attached to me so much.
If I build a house one day (my endless dream)
definitely I name it as 'Hedgehog'.
dedication to poet kojo Owusu
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Daughters on sale!
(Indian girls go through hell like situation. This poem raises a question, where will it end!
Yes, its true!
-Daughters are on sale
Yes, one rues!
-Ethics are on bail
A girl child
works as maid
A child bride
is paid!
A girl
still lags
A daughter
Still begs!
Yes, it true
Girl is banned!
Alas, daughter
Is means to reach an end!
poem by Ashish Dimri
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An even keel Vessel goes run aground in the Ocean of Life!
My dear Son,
It's nice to hear
That you're a Skipper of a small craft!
Your poor old Grandma & Grandpa proud of that.
Be careful Sonny!
Ocean is vast & mysterious
And bottomless.
But there are some places you find shallow waters.
Obey & respect the rules of the road!
Yes, Mermaids are beautiful
But do not get tempted
And if you steer your course off the given route
into shallow waters definitely your ship goes run aground!
Be alert of the warning buoys
And give a friendly smile to mermaids.
Yes, they are beautiful
And I too love them
But they are belong to sea
And don't forget that you have lot of friends ashore!
*Humbly to our grandson Siluna!
Today is our 38th Wedding Anniversary and you're in the Indian Ocean and We're in Atlantic,
Oceans are apart!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Indian Girl
I see the snowflakes falling
I hear the drumbeat calling
I am just only lonely Indian girl
Braver than all the brave now
I sit at every pow-wow
I fought a million men for Indian girl
Ten hides and twenty horses
that's what the tribal law says
Too much for me to pay for Indian girl
Oh sun shine on sun shine on
and take my darkness away
Oh sun shine on sun shine on
and bring this girl my way
Far from her lonely teepee
wind sends her sweetness to me
too much for me to bear my Indian girl
Gather your things together
and bring your wedding feather
We'll steal away forever Indian girl
chorus x2
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ravi Shankar’s Daughter
Ooh – I am in love with Ravi Shankar’s daughter
And she doesn’t even know
Do you think her mother knows what she brought us
Do you think her father shouts from the hilltops?
Ooh – I am love with Ravi Shankar’s daughter
And she really should know
My sweet love – Alleluia
I really want to see you - My sweet lord
I really want to be with you
So I can always hear you play
Hare Krishna
I am in love with Ravi Shankar’s daughter
The spirit in her fingers makes my body quiver
Ravi Shankar’s daughter
Rave Shankar’s daughter
Conduct your life like an Indian Master
The best is still to come in the ever after
Love and space dust inside each and all of us
The coiled serpent – the all Seeing Eye
poem by Michael WheelerWyatt
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One Might Laugh At This
One might laugh at this but it is not a joke
He thinks the 'Indian Myna' is about Indian Culture one must feel for the poor bloke
He does not know that the myna is a bird born with wings for to fly
That ignorance is bliss to him has to apply
His right to his opinions him none should deny
But why he comments on others one has to wonder why
Since he hasn't a clue what he's talking about
Of his lack of knowledge he doesn't leave one in doubt
Why he should think that an indian myna should have anything to do with Indian Culture seems perplexing to me
As knowledge goes he is one in poverty
I do honestly feel he should call it a day
By that I mean give writing comments away
He does show his ignorance by the comments he write
And his type not an asset to any poetry web site.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Indian Queen
Whooo-oo-whoooo
This is my life I dont feel whole every night
I hear love, crying down on love so bright
Tell me to hear
(I feel so good)
How can you tell
(I do believe)
Its just so real
(I really know)
I want to know
(I gotta say)
The indian queen, pretty as a dream
The indian queen, my love is so free
In the love, I hear all those melodies
In my love, lying down on separate ears
Oh, how can you tell
(I feel so good)
Its just so real
(I really know)
How do you know
(its got to be)
Its got to go
(its still inside)
The indian queen, pretty as a dream
The indian queen, proud of eyes so clear
Whoo-oo-oo-whoooooooo
Its my world, Id save all my life for you
Ah-ah-ah
You can smile down on lovers avenue
Well, how can you tell
(I want to know)
Its just so good
(oh, yes I do)
I feel so right
(I really do)
Its so tight
(come on now)
The indian queen, pretty as a dream
The indian queen, my love is so real
Whoooo-ooowhoooo
Its so real, you know like its got to be
You say no and I wake up wanting you
Well, how can you stop
(I feel this good)
Youve got to be
(oh, this is good)
Its just so real
(I wanna be)
Knowing you
(its all so real)
The indian queen, pretty as a dream
The indian queen, my love is so real
Whooo-oo-whoooo-oo
Can I tell you bout an indian queen
(fading...) shes gonna get her dream....
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry
Poetry.......
Poetry defines me
Poetry.......
A place where you be you and I'll be me.
Poetry.......
We are best friends for eternity.
My Poetry.......
Is the daughter of my emotion,
There I've said it, no need to interpret the connection.
Poetry.......
Where my pen and paper are sealed with a kiss,
So easy to write for my mind is a bliss.
Poetry.......
Poetry has multiple meanings,
An indescribable feeling when I realize others understand them.
My Poetry.......
It just comes natural to me.
My Poetry.......
Is out there, , , , , away from exile,
And style of writing is very versatile.
Poetry.......Poetry.......
P oetry.......
It speaks out to me.
poem by Anita Khelawan
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Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
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For Ever Friend
For ever
Friend you 'r mine
Not today, not tomorrow
Sung your glory in poetry oft
Come on!
Come on!
Your witty smile
Your sense of humor
Where is your free broad mind?
Hum on!
Hum on
As you drive
Bogies down the tavern
Smooth riding past the doubts
Travel
Travel
long on four wheels
Take a break for your sake
Making life a dream come true
Shake! !
Shake
Off will go all
Your foggy moroseness
toss away your troubles cue
Smile
Smile
Smile with me
For a change talk
Tell me, share with me please
Buddy?
Buddy
Buddy will you;
Will you forgive; friendly be?
Mistaken pride took me on ride
Come on!
For ever
Friend you 'r mine
Not today, not tomorrow
Sung your glory in poetry oft
Come on!
poem by Malini Kadir
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Father And Daughter
Father and daughter spend some quiet time together in the living room
Shining through the curtain is the sun
And outside is the glorious afternoon
Father reads to his daughter the poetry she loves
Father and daughter enjoy each other's company
Father takes his daughter by the hand
As they take a walk outside
Father cares for his daughter
And always wishes the very best to happen for her
poem by Justin Gildow
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For Suzy With Love
For Suzanne
This is a true account of what happen to me in 2006 and 2007.
In 1958, there was a girl in my class at school.
Who would many; many years later turn my life around.
We didn’t talk much socially at school;
in fact, we were virtually strangers.
Yet here we are living thousands of miles away
from each other now and we are very good friends.
She found me adrift on the internet one day in December 2006.
At first, I didn’t recognise her name,
but when I saw an old school photograph,
I recognised her straight away.
Many happy memories were soon to fill my head.
We got talking through emails
telling how much each of our lives had changed.
It was through these exchanges
she would turn my life around.
She introduced me to a friend of hers in a roundabout way.
That introduction changed my life forever
in ways I could only dream.
Her friend wrote poetry
and I went along to read them on an internet site,
but had to join to comment.
Since then that friend of hers
has become a very good friend of mine to,
so much so I adopted her as my sister.
After joining the poetry site I put up some old poems of mine,
just to show the world how bad I was.
The joke was on me
because they said I was better than I thought.
One thing led to another and more friends I did gain.
However, Suzy still remains someone special to me.
At school, we might have been strangers,
but we are strangers no more.
In fact, now she feels more like part of my family.
Suzy with her friend gave me my life back in many ways.
Sometimes I think back of those dark days
before she caught me adrift on the internet.
This story isn’t over yet, it still has a long way to run.
Next year I plan to meet Suzy and her friend,
and you can bet your bottom dollar
there will be tears hugs and kisses all around.
For those who don’t know whom Suzy’s friend might be,
her name is Melvina Germain
who also means the world to me.
However, Suzy this poem comes from me to you will love.
Thank you my long lost classmate
for all that you have done.
23 October 2008
poem by David Harris
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An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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After All Hymn
After all I am human
And I get mad sometimes
Sometimes it is hard for me to think of something else in
Order to get rid of my anger
But I think I have to replace it with poetry
Poetry is my life
And I live writing poetry
Is poetry just a scribbling that doesn't make sense?
No
Poetry are feelings that are wrtten on a piece of paper or in the computer Scream
Poetry makes sense because every word I carefully select
And there are other words that might pop out of my mind
That I connect with the words in my heart
Do I use strong words in my poetry?
Yes I use strong words
Do I offend my readers with the words I pick?
That Is something that I try not to do
AAafter all
I am human and I do make mistakes
But after I make mistakes I try to move to the next step so I never get Stuck with my mistake
Yes poetry is my voice that is a message that I am trying hard to give to My readers
There are so many different styles of poetry
Haiku, rhiming, and free style
But I always stick with the free style of poetry
I find that it is the style that sooths me just fine
After all
I try very hard to live a modest life that is very plain and simple
From the one I lived 16 years ago
What is wrong to live a life of luxury to me?
First I need to have the money to live a luxurious life
The second part is that I don't want anything to do with a luxurious life
Because I am happy living my simple life
And I hope to live that simple life forever
I want to have dreams only and I don't wish them to turn into reality in My Life
Because I know that my dreams will be dreams
No I can't sell my dreams
Because my dreams are only fantasies that I face every night when I sleep In my bed
And after all I will always be human
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Poetry Of Confession
THE POETRY OF CONFESSION
The poetry of confession -
The poetry of self- indulgence-
The poetry of the ‘wretch con-centered all in self’-
The poetry of moods and feelings-
Of all ideas only as they relate to the poet himself-
The poetry of desperation-
The poetry of need-
The poetry of urgency -
And serving the poet first-
Not enough of the world
Not enough of others- of other perspectives
Not formal and disciplined enough-
The poetry which is not crafted and polished
The poetry in which the need of the poet
Is more central than the quality of the poetry –
The poetry which may be too selfish to be good-
Whose moral failure makes more prominent its aesthetic flaws-
The poetry which is not so good
And not great
But quite banal and commonplace –
A poet can give his life to his poetry
And that still be nothing at all-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Man Became Addicted To Poetry
A MAN BECAME ADDICTED TO POETRY
A man became addicted to poetry-
Wherever he went he read or wrote a few lines-
Poetry became much of what he did-
Poetry and poetry and poetry-
As if that alone could give meaning and pleasure to his life.
A man became addicted to poetry
And so lost at times
What true poetry is –
Now he writes without knowing
Whether he is truly writing
Or merely using the ‘idea and world of poetry’
For his own peace of mind.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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For a Daughter Who Leaves
A woman weaves
her daughter's wedding
slippers that will carry
her steps into a new life.
The mother weeps alone
into her jeweled sewing box
slips red thread
around its spool,
the same she used to stitch
her daughter's first silk jacket
embroidered with turtles
that would bring luck, long life.
She remembers all the steps
taken by her daughter's
unbound quick feet:
dancing on the stones
of the yard among yellow
butterflies and white breasted sparrows.
And she grew, legs strong
body long, mind
independent.
Now she captures all eyes
with her hair combed smooth
and her hips gently
swaying like bamboo.
The woman
spins her thread
from the spool of her heart,
knotted to her daughter's
departing
wedding slippers.
poem by Janice Mirikitani
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I am just an orange seed
Among the fire works in Orange County of California
Where I see the vast designs in the night sky at Disneyland.
I step down to Euclid street towards the Gas Station
That fuels me to run this oblique skeleton in the Zigzag race.
I cry silently and my hot tears flow into the Pacific Ocean
And search the roots in my tiny island called
'The Pearl of Indian Ocean'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Dedication
Well way back in the Bible time
A cat named noah built an ocean liner
Everybody laughed when they told him why
But when the rain came, noah was high and dry
cause he had
Dedication baby through and through
Dedication like I give to you
Dedication girl every way
Dedication girl every day
Well admiral byrd and some eskimos
They took a little trip to the old north pole
When they said it was a miracle they made it back
Well they said that wasnt any miracle, jack
Dedication baby through and through
Dedication like I give to you
Dedication girl every way
Dedication girl every day
Well now there was a movie star out in hollywood
He met a little girl, they got along real good
He tried to split but the chick said buddy, not so fast
Aint gonna wrap me on your arms, then wrap me in some cash
Now it was on tv every word they said
If you didnt see it man, you must have been late
She got on the witness pedestal without care
She turned to the judge and this is what she said
Dedication judge every way
Dedication judge in every way
I need some
Dedication judge that cant be spent
A little dedication judge to pay the rent
Dedication baby through and through
Dedication like I give to you
Dedication girl every way
Dedication girl every day
D-e-d-i-c-a-t-i-o-n
D-e-d-i-c-a-t-i-o-n
D-e-d-i-c-a-t-i-o-n
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Does Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a poem
Good poetry is a rhapsody
That makes my spirit roam
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from an ode
Good poetry is the world to me
It is the mother lode
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a verse
Good poetry makes my soul soar free
And lifts the darkest curse
What does poetry mean to me
A sorry sonofabitch
Good poetry grabs me by the balls
And makes my life seem rich
What does poetry mean to me
An ageing U3Aer
Good poetry takes me back to youth
To when I was a player
What does poetry mean to me
A frustrated would-be bard
Good poetry trips not off my pen
It’s far too blooming hard