All for Myself
Today I am doing everything for myself.
I am feeding the stray birds and animals
Giving alms to the stretched hands on my door
Watering the sun-perched plants and saplings
Helping the blind man to cross to the other side
Picking up things from ground for her
Plucking flowers for her dark scented hair
Offering the seat in the bus to the old man
Acting friendly with all at office and home
Teaching a child to learn alphabets
Pointing at the constellations in the night sky
Telling her stories at dinner and wishing sweet dreams…
So much I have done for others,
And so much more for myself!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
On Your Special Day
Wake up early morning for your special day
To see things wishing you well in their ways
And telling it's your day so don't be sad
And do all things that'll make you glad
And bright sun rising and wishing you well
By giving you happiness that no one can sell
And telling its your day so don't be sad
And do all things that'll make you glad
And small feathered creatures singing youi a song
That today is your birthday so nothing can go wrong
And telling it's your day so don't be sad
And do all things that'll make you glad
And blooming flowers spreading its fragrance for you
To wish you happiness that surely is true
And telling its your day so don't be sad
And do all things that'll make you glad.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An umbrella tree
As an umbrella without an umbrella,
A tree stands under the Sun all the day,
Serving you and me as an umbrella.
Giving oxygen and sucking poison,
A tree clears the air for us to breathe.
Offering its all parts to all animals,
Does it demand anything in return?
With no shield to defend with, nor a sword
To offend with, it stands for our mercy.
We are indebted to plants much more than
To animals and humans for our lease.
To kill it is to murder it, a crime.
To be ungrateful to it is a sin.
To dig your own grave is the biggest fun.
Be a tree for each house, planted and grown.
Be a tree for each child, to grow along.
Things made of wood be gone out of demand,
With carpenters rehabilitated.
New roads be cut with pits made for trees.
Like orphanage, stray trees may get a home.
Youngsters, unless you resolve it with faith,
The world to the future will have no mirth.
24.05.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Absence
I keep myself occupied
by searching for a job
on the Internet,
writing stories and poems,
taking care and feeding the animals
and sometimes I carry things
to the garage and back
and measure instinctively
about every step
and wonder why
I still care so much for you,
read stories and poetry books
and try to learn
something from other writers.
There are white arum lilies
that grows wild at the river
and on strange places
I see flowers
as if life makes opportunities
for the outcasts
and there are simple things
that I keep me busy with
to try and forget
how empty and painful
your absence becomes
and when we are together
things sometimes get muddled,
but without you
it’s the darkest night.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conspicuous by its Absence
While tending to the garden one balmy November,
Helping my mother wash the leaves of the dust,
And gently cut off the dead branches and flowers,
Spraying the ones still seeming bright and robust…
She picked some reeds lying by her side,
Puzzled, I asked what are these for mother.
They are for the infants of the garden my child,
They need support to grow and are called climbers.
Sweet pea is one garden flower of such a family,
So I am going to use these reeds to make a trellis.
By January, despite chill the flowers will be smiling gaily,
Soft hues, translucent, capricious and sweet scented...
They are really my favourite as they have no flamboyance,
Growing them is like meditation and needs a lot of patience.
Now, in gardens, they are conspicuous by their absence,
Perhaps because we like things with zero maintenance...
To thrive, plants or relationships need love and nurture
No wonder, they wilt and have an uncertain future....
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Parents (a poem to sing)
Owning lands
moist soil
farmers
vow to sow.
Spreading seeds
all over
for healthy plants
to grow.
Watering the saplings
fertilising
good
for the health of plants.
Pruning them
and then
amidst the Godly chants.
Buds blossom
into flowers
fragrance
spreading
to and fro.
Farmers happy
rejoice flowers
blessed by
HIS graceful show.
---x----
All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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In This Bin
in this bin
i put
everything
pains, sorrows,
&
joys, happiness
my bin
and my own alone
like some mailbox
of my
emotions
this is a world
where
i am: open, close
mystery,
double talk
whisper
shout
angry, scream, howl,
wail,
this is where
i can be everything: a mocking bird, a werewolf, an angel,
devil,
crocodile, merman, worm, fish, butterfly
eagle
monkey, ghost, soul,
passionate body
fingers, hands, feet
lips
all the feelings and colors
of my mind
feel me, as i too feel you
what have i to gain
what have i to lose
you say, you think, words, words, and nothing but words,
no,
no,
do not reduce everything to simple terms of words
and letters
and syllables,
this is a field where i have sown the seeds of my self
and some flowers
begin to bloom here, and some fruits are ripe for the picking
i like you being the child who climbs
the tree where my fruits are sweet and ripe
i like you being the lady who comes along
and picks my flowers
i like you being the wind that helps my clouds
drift only to be alive
crossing the boundaries of space between
peaks of mountains
this is not a dustbin anymore, this is my house
this is my dwelling
there is a soft easy chair in my mind
a glass vase with a red rose
glazed with dew
like my tears, like my eyes that i am hiding
for you not to clearly see
this is not just a dustbin, this is now my home
come
come
come
make this your home, enter my door, follow me
in the labyrinths of my feelings
my hopes and dreams
come
come
come
take a seat, and have breakfast with
me
see the glass window opening to a view
of the pines and the green mountains
a little frost may blind us
but here we are, i have prepared you tea
and
sympathy and some stories about myself
listen, and be free, to tell your stories too,
the sun has just shone
and indeed, it is a very new day.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Candle
By my bed, on a little round table
The Grandmother placed a candle.
She gave me three kisses telling me they were three
dreams
And tucked me in just where I loved being tucked.
Then she went out of the room and the door was shut.
I lay still, waiting for my three dreams to talk;
But they were silent.
Suddenly I remember giving her three kisses back.
Perhaps, by mistake, I had given my three little
dreams
I sat up in bed.
The room grew big, oh, bigger far than a church.
The wardrobe, quite by itself, as big as a house.
And the jug on the washstand smiled at me:
It was not a friendly smile.
I looked at the basket-chair where my clothes lay
folded:
The chair gave a creak as though it were listening
for something.
Perhaps it was coming alive and going to dress in
my clothes.
But the awful thing was the window:
I could not think what was outside.
No tree to be seen, I was sure,
No nice little plant or friendly pebbly path.
Why did she pull the blind down every night?
It was better to know.
I crunched my teeth and crept out of bed,
I peeped through a slit of the blind.
There was nothing at all to be seen.
But hundreds of friendly candles all over the sky
In remembrance of frightened children.
I went back to bed...
The three dreams started singing a little song.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Today I Give Pain Its Freedom
i will be a little lax today
setting pain carefully and letting them go
giving them wings to fly away from me
and telling them not to come back
for a while, giving them a break
i open the entrance at the front door
with some streamers and flowers
some bees and dragonflies and butterflies
on the stairs of the house
beside the door and the windows
welcome happiness, welcome home!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dark Side Of The Moon
Every night we dream of things
half of them we never remember,
but our dreams are only things
our brain is sorting out
what it wants to remember.
The rest are left to visit
the dark side of the moon.
When love comes to us
with all its frills and froth,
then departs with broken hearts.
We always like to remember
the thrill of its coming
and the sadness of parting
is sent to the dark side of the moon.
As with everything in our lives,
we tend to want to forget
we package them together
and parcel them away.
Then on an appropriate day we send them,
on their way to
the dark side of the moon.
The dark side of the moon
where all discarded dreams go.
The dark side of the moon
is where old love letters stray,
to stay forever and a day
on the dark side of the moon.
26 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Much education today is monumentally ineffective. All too often we are giving young people cut flowers when we should be teaching them to grow their own plants.
quote by John W. Gardner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look At The Animals
The tiny ant leaves his tiny ant drops in the sand,
And makes his home inside a rusty watering can,
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.
He runs into a sparrow who hasnt eaten for a week,
And later, quite contented, the sparrow cleans his beak,
Failing to notice pussy cat has come out to take a leak.
Our cat partakes of dinner when a sodden kangaroo
Emerges from the undergrowth and asks to use the loo.
Kangaroos arent usually dangerous, for that would never do.
My goodness, will you look at all the animals queuing on the stairs!
Look at the animals in the zoo; how would you like to be one?
Theyre waiting to use the lavatory and putting chewing gum in each
Others hair.
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to free one?
Good gracious, will you look at all the animals playing with their tools!
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to queer one?
Flying from the chandeliers and treading in their elephantine stools.
Look at the animals, two by two; arent you glad to be one?
This kangaroos a lunatic and his pouch is very full
Of pussy cats and penguins who cant fly as a rule,
But then neither could the pussy cat: he never went to school.
The kangaroo gets nervous when confronted by the size
Of an elephant named simon who is always telling lies;
He swears he wears green corduroys and can button up his fly.
Presently, a fatter simons indigestion fails.
He regurgitates the whole damn mess into an aluminum pail,
And the tiny ant scuttles back inside his watering can
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thankful To God
(2/23/12)
Ashes to ashes - dust to dust
I put my life in gods trust
He has watched me every step of the way
And from him I will not stray.
When my life seems to be going wrong
He comes and makes me strong.
Just say a little mental prayer
And with god his love you'll share.
Look at the beauties all around
In the sky and on the ground
The birds that fly high above
Spreading their wings with his love.
Many of the two and four legged
Animals on the ground
Is the food that we have found.
He supplies us with all our needs
And on which plants we could feed.
Plants for food, plants to cure
Everything here, rest assured.
Why do we worry so
He takes care of us - this we know.
So be thankful to god above
For he is the one true love.
poem by Louis Rams
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There Were Whispers
there were whispers
coming at dawn
near my ears
it is colder
when i am away from home
and the whispers
are a little bit louder
like some birds
wanting to enter
inside my heart
and make
their nests there
the room is dark
and there is no chance
that i will ever sleep
there is this voice
always telling me
home, i will be home
and tonight is the longest
dark night i shall ever have
it is the sound
of the plane, the clutters
of back packs
it is the sound of
the taxi
going to an airport
it is the view of
clouds up there
and some landscapes
some sea caps
and tiny boats
and then the
touchdown
some hands are
waving
it is 7: 00 a.m.
and the smell of home
is as sweet
as the odor of
an old shirt still hanging
on a chair
beside my door
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Victims
Victims
Chorus:
The victims we know so well
They shine in our eyes
When they kiss and tell
Strange places we never see
But youre always there
Like a ghost in my dreams
And I keep on telling you
Please dont do the things you do
When you do those things
Pull my puppet strings
I have that strangest void for you
We love and we never tell
What places our hearts in the wishing well
Love lead us into the stream
And its sink or swim
Like its always been
And I keep on loving you
Its the only thing to do
When the angel sings
There are greater things
Can I give them all to you
Pull the strings of emotion
Take a ride into unknown pleasure
Feel like a child
On a dark night
Wishing there was some kind of heaven
I could be warm with your smiling
Hold out your hand for a while
The victims
We know them so well
(chorus)
Show my heart some devotion
Push aside those that whisper never
Feel like a child on a dark night
Wishing we could spend it together
I could be warm with your smiling
Hold out your hand for a while
The victims
We know them so well
song performed by by Culture Club
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plight of World’s Children Today
Like buds nipped before turning into flowers;
Like flowers plucked before fully blossoming,
Crushed without being allowed to form seed –
This is the state of world’s children today!
Like seedlings pulled like weeds with roots from soil,
Like sprouted plants that never can turn trees,
With branches trimmed or broken off like twigs –
This is the state of world’s children today!
Like saplings not nurtured by sun and rain,
Like plants, whose leaves are eaten by stray beasts,
Whose roots can never find right type of soil –
This is the state of world’s children today!
When human beings treat their own offspring
In ways inhuman, most condemnable,
How can God bless mankind upon the earth?
No wonder Nature kills adults likewise!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 09-17-08
poem by John Celes
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Remember, it's Me
When raindrops touching your lips
remember, it's me giving you a kiss
When the wind is blowing thru your hair
remember, it's me playing with it
When your eyes are wet
remember, it's me wiping your tears
When the sun tickles and make you smile
remember, it's me telling a joke
When your hand are wet
remember it's me watering the plants
When your body is all relaxed
remember, it's me rocking you to sleep
When you cover yourself with a blanket
remember, it's me keeping you warm
When the moon shines thru the window
remember, it's me protecting you
When the radio is playing
remember, it's me singing our song
When you hve butterflies in your stomach
remember, it's me, telling you he is a good guy
When the phone rings
remember, it's me giving you my blessing
poem by Dagmar Wilson
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Home Sweet Home
Met this girl called josephine and took her up on my machine
We had a little fun and now we got a little one
Had to get married, being chased out of town
Found ourselves a place to live, we put all our money down
Call it home sweet home, home sweet home
Eleven floors up in a tower block
Happy just to have a home
Ive gone and changed the lock on our home
Nothing really worked out right, things got broke,
They stayed that way
None of our friends came around at night and little sam got
No place to play
Weve got to get out of here, bill she said Ive been telling
You all the while
When I came home from work that night shed jumped out the
Window with our chiled
From our home sweet home, home sweet home
Just a place to take a rest, just a place ot make our nest
-- we call it our home
When the insurance money came through seemed dirty didnt
Know what to do
Took the cash went down the casino, down on the wheel
On the double
And I won, oh yes I won, like I never won before
Bought myself a country house with an antique carved
Oak door
It was home sweet home, home sweet home
Just a place to lay our head think of all those things we said
About in our home sweet home.
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mothers’ Day,2008
O thank you mom, for all the things you did;
O thank you mom, for being nice to us;
O thank you mom, for toiling hard for all;
O thank you mom, for all the love you gave!
O thank you mom, for being good to dad;
O thank you mom, for all the care you took;
O thank you mom, for teaching ‘ABC ’;
O thank you mom, for cooking foods tasty!
O thank you mom, for keeping us so clean;
O thank you mom, for dressing us so well;
O thank you mom, for telling us stories;
O thank you mom, for singing ‘lullabies’!
O thank you mom, for encouraging us;
O thank you mom, for words of kindness, love;
O thank you mom, for rearing us so well;
O thank you mom, for spanking us at times!
O thank you mom, for showing what is life;
O thank you mom, for training us tell truth;
O thank you mom, for being ‘role-model’;
O thank you mom, for showing way to Heav’n.
O thank you mom, for helping us to write;
O thank you mom, for nursing us when ill;
O thank you mom, for teaching how to pray;
O thank you mom, for giving birth to us.
Lovingly dedicated to our dear mom,
Mrs. Stella Antoniswami, (> 90yrs) Coimbatore,
Still alive, by the grace of God
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-10-2008
poem by John Celes
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Verily, a man teaching his child manners is better than giving one bushel of grain in alms.
Sonnet- O Listen To...
O listen to the songs, so sweet of Birds;
0 listen to the sea-waves hitting shore;
0 listen to the noise of trampling herds;
0 listen to the breeze that slams the door.
0 listen to the animals all wild;
0 listen to the Wind that howls and screams;
0 listen to the cries of orphaned child;
0 listen to the shrieks of ghosts in dreams.
0 listen to the beggar asking alms;
0 listen to the noises made by Science;
0 listen to the children clapping palms;
0 listen to God-given Conscience.
0 listen within you and hear God's call;
The Holy Spirit dwells in good souls- all.
poem by John Celes
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