Rare Gifts
What rare gifts for my Aussie-friend I had?
Ants, mosquitoes and scorpions will be bad
even if they don't have,
for the bacterias to save.
But Indian healthy thoughts their minds invade.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
RareGifts
What rare gifts for my Aussie-friend I had?
Ants, mosquitoes and scorpions will be bad
even if they don't have,
for the bacterias to save.
But Indian healthy thoughts their minds invade.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rare Friend
I will be your rare friend;
Spend many hours meditating on your success.
I will be your rare friend;
Be there for you when you are not at your best.
I will be your rare friend;
One who will take you home when your legs tire.
I will be your rare friend;
And will be beside you when go through the fire.
I will be your rare friend;
When others abandon you and laugh at you.
I will be your rare friend;
Not caring the color of your skin or what you do.
I will be your rare friend;
I will be your rare friend because its true, I am you.
poem by Saint Eule
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How Do You Use Your Gifts?
I'm using my blessings and faith,
To create identifiable miracles.
And you?
How do you use your gifts?
In the begging of stuff?
That others have?
By using their own,
Faith kept persisted.
And what they have manage to materialize,
Makes you jealous and mad?
Your selfishness is pathetic!
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
In the begging of stuff?
That others have?
By using their own,
Faith kept persisted.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Messing
the room is full of litters
the underwear is on top of the headboard
the shoes are far from each others' gaze
dirty clothes roam like wolves
and the bulb lights are filled with dusts
moths are dead
and mosquitoes reign the nooks
cobwebs look like fog
but i know how to paint
something so orderly in my mind
i take the brush of the brain
and the tints of bright colors
it is not denial
but it is just a matter of choosing
what reality i want
i become blind to all these mess
i only select what i must accept
so you see
my world is as beautiful as yours
i sleep soundly at night
as the ants and the scorpions
make their wars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mosquitoes
If mosquitoes were not there
To draw blood from your capillaries
You would have to visit your doctor
Every week to get rejuvenated
For Gods sake donot destroy the vale of tears
Where mosquitoes breed
Mosquitoes do not take fees
But the doctors do
If doctors replace mosquitoes
The global market will no doubt expand
For the benefit of man and the USA
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Virgin
Walking through the darkness of racism,
Devouring the thoughts of virgin minds in life;
Very few taking the easy way out by not truly studying
the minds and personalities of certain people,
the rest creating an image from the start trying to find the
result of that particular person;
Suffering these rare thoughts is like being in the pit of Hell,
I would love to stop the burning sensation but it's not even worth
spitting on;
8-13-08
poem by Alicia Cross
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Biscuit Of The Day
On the morning they left
we said goodbye
filled with sadness
for the absence to come.
Inside the palanquins
on the camels' backs
I saw their faces beautiful as moons
behind veils of golden cloth.
Beneath the veils
tears crept like scorpions
over the fragrant roses
of their cheeks.
These scorpions do not harm
the cheek they mark.
They save their sting
for the heart of the sorrowful lover.
Leavetaking
On the morning they left
we said goodbye
filled with sadness
for the absence to come.
Inside the palanquins
on the camels' backs
I saw their faces beautiful as moons
behind veils of golden cloth.
Beneath the veils
tears crept like scorpions
over the fragrant roses
of their cheeks.
These scorpions do not harm
the cheek they mark.
They save their sting
for the heart of the sorrowful lover.
My Thoughts Of Suicide
Here I sit and write this poem
Thinking of all I love and all I hate
Thoughts of suicide thinking its my fate
I think of all the times I used to laugh
And now I wish I'd just die
How did so much misery come in to my life
And now all I have are thoughts of suicide
Crying every night is not the way to live
Heck I'm still a kid
I should be out hanging with all my friends
But these thoughts of suicide haunt my head
Will they care when I am gone
When nothings left expect my thoughts
And this small poem telling everyone
I will be no more in about an hour
Don't try to save me
Just save your tears
Nothing can stop me
Because i have thoughts of suicide
Heres to the end my dear friend
I hope you live life through
This is the end to this girls life
And all her thoughts to boot
Nothing there but my thoughts my secret thoughts of suicide
poem by Danielle Arsuaga
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Teacher’s Day in India
Teacher’s Day in India is today-
Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan’s birthday;
A great educationist, Indian;
A former President of our nation;
A teacher par excellence;
An exemplary role-model to all.
Let’s celebrate this day
In a special way,
By remembering our teachers,
Who’d taught us all these years.
A teacher is a tutor;
A teacher is a scholar;
A teacher is a special friend;
A guide and philosopher
In students’ lives- a Godsend!
Our teachers are great minds;
Our teachers are rare finds;
Their love and precept binds
As students’ life-years winds!
God bless our teachers (dears):
God give them healthy years;
God meet their wants sans fears,
And make them mighty seers.
Like parents, he/she rears;
God rank them as great peers;
But keep them free from tears,
When their life’s end nears.
Dedicated most respectfully to
all our beloved teachers
on 5th September,2006
Copyright by Dr John Celes, India
poem by John Celes
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Of Ants and Life
…guess me correct
of ants and life they connect
causing a traffic jam on their trails I cannot forget
of ants as they swam from tree barks to get
a source of existence cannot let
the ants in drought to starve
for food is what they have once collected
and stored;
that which none has never rejected
nor objected
of ants and life
the futuristic species
that know when to pick up the pieces
of anything,
and the guard ants making sure nothing misses
from whence it were piled and stored
of ants and life ‘am never bored
as I observed how they nod
in respect and honor on board
as they pass each other a hustle they accord
of ants and life as they seek to conform
to a life in all its form
if ants can manage their own
why can’t we not of our own?
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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The Least You Expect It
it is at the time when you least expect it
that things happen in your life
that people come to you
for help.
bad luck, and events come bringing
you all the regrets.
mosquitoes and ants, and termites,
and snakes...
imagine, butterflies and birds and bees and flowers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Are My Friend
Yes, I love you
for you are my friend.
Yes, I love you.
You're my friend to the end.
I once said 'You brought me nothing.'
Oh how wrong I was.
You've given me words
to keep me sound.
You've given me thoughts
to bring me around.
You've given me song
to cheer my heart.
You've given me so much
that will never depart.
And because of these gifts
I can breathe again.
Yes, I love you
for you are my friend.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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11: 13 P.m.
now that i have fed all the mosquitoes
i think, i must
go to sleep, and this is the last poem
for all the female mosquitoes
that i have
loved before
and still love
tonight
all of them
have sucked
my skin
and all of them
are now
silent
contented perhaps
and so happy
that there is still
a man
as generous
and understanding
as i
on said gesture
i can now
have my sound
sleep
good night, my darlings
may you give
birth
to a thousand baby mosquitoes
tomorrow
morning
may all of you
spread my genes
manyfold
like the sands
in the sahara desert
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We are always going to be influenced by America... I watched the word 'bum' go out and 'butt' come in. And part of me says, oh that's a shame, but Aussie boys are still Aussie boys.
quote by Bryan Brown
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Fight Goes On The Fight Must Never End
The woman conservationists admire
She fights to save the trees of Sherbrooke Shire
A staunch member of the 'Save The Dandenongs Team'
The fight is on to keep the mountain green.
To woods and all green places she's a friend
And the fight goes on the fight must never end
The verbal war the unending war of words
To save the woods and hedgerows for the birds.
The fight is on to save the greenery
To save green places and each precious tree
For future generations to enjoy
The fight goes on and the heated words still fly.
The developer say we'll cut the forest down
And replace the scrubland with a concrete town
But the conservationists keep getting in their way
The woods were always here and the woods will stay.
And the Margaret Douglas's of this world too rare
And the developers too many everywhere
To woods and all green places she's a friend
And the fight goes on the fight must never end.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Reaching the Top
Two little red ants,
With puffs and with pants,
Were climbing a stone,
But one ant was prone,
To vertiginous spells,
In his ears he heard bells,
Which would suddenly ring,
With a loud ting-a-ling.
It made his legs shake,
And his whole body quake,
What was to be done,
He so wanted to run,
To get far, far away,
But his friend said, 'No, stay',
Just take a breath, deep,
You don't have to weep.
But climb onto my back,
For I've got the knack, .
Of reaching the top,
And I won't let you drop,
We'll get there, don't fret,
For it's a sure bet,
That a friend has to aid
A friend who's afraid.
So with piggy-back style,
Plus the glimpse of a smile,
And without more delay,
Two ants scuttled away.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Differemt People
Well things can be broken down
In this world of ours
You dont have to be a famous person
Just to make your mark
A mother can be an inspiration
To her little son
And change his thoughts, his mind, his life,
Just with her gentle hum hum
So different, yet so the same
Two sisters only have their parents to blame
Its rare that two can get along
But when they do, theyre inseparable
Such a blessing comes to few yeah
The sky is full of clouds and
My worlds full of people
You got the different kinds with different ways
It would take a lifetime to explain
Not ones the same
He and she, two different people
With two separate lives
Then you put the two together
You get a spectacular surprise
Because one can teach the other one
What she doesnt know
While still the other fills a place inside
He never knew had room to grow
The sky is full of clouds and
My worlds full of people
You got the different kinds with different ways
It would take a lifetime to explain
Not ones the same
Oh ueah and once in a while I sit back
And think about the planet
And most of the time I trip on it
To kick back and think about
How massive it all is
And oh how many others are on it yeah
I often think about the world
In which I live today, of animals and plants
And natures gifts set on display
But the most amazing thing
That Ive seen in my time
Are all the different people
And all their different minds minds minds minds
And different ways
It would take a lifetime to explain
Not ones exactly the same
So many different people
So many different kinds
So many many many different people
So many different
Look at me, Im a person
Look at me, Im my own person
So many different people
So many different kinds
For better or for worse, different people
song performed by by No Doubt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ten Little Indians
Ten little indian boys
The first little indian gave squaw pretty feather
(little indian boy)
The second little indian made her an indian dollar
(fighting over a squaw)
Well the third little indian gave her moccasin leather
(little indian boy)
The squaw didnt like em at all
The fourth little indian took her riding in his big canoe
(little indian boy)
The fifth little indian took her down the waterfall
(fighting over a squaw)
The sixth little indian taught the squaw how to woo-woo
(little indian boy)
But the squaw didnt like em at all
One little, two little, three little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Four little, five little, six little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Seven little, eight little, nine little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Ten little indian boys
The seventh little indian took her over to his teepee
(little indian boy)
The eighth little indian tried to give her a love poem
(fighting over a squaw)
The ninth little indian said youre my kemosabe
(little indian boy)
The squaw didnt like em at all
The tenth little indian said it really didnt matter
(little indian boy)
He acted like himself and he didnt look at her
(fighting over a squaw)
The squaw didnt care if he never did a thing
(little indian boy)
Cause she loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pen Friend Days
PEN FRIEND DAYS
A few thousand miles away
I had a nice friend to share
our continuous thoughts and moods
through the medium of words by post
For years together, we were in touch
yet, every time we felt afresh
with every new mail, in hand, that went to vouch
our bond was secure, in the absence of one to one contact
Exchange of gifts and photos, of course
Kept us to shoulders abreast
respecting each others tastes and wishes
cocktail cultures and crude emotional mix-ups
But, I regret, on self-examination
That I do seldom love my fellow Indian
Nor have high passion or love for my motherland Nation
Am I a hypocrite citizen! ............on pen pal addiction.
Now letter writing has gone with the wind,
with advent of surging communication science.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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