God is so Good
he even reserved
a marsh
for mosquitoes to breed
tunnels cold and damp
favorite for
boas
inexhaustible trees
for termites
how much more for
you
for whom He prided
with so much
love?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
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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Remembrance
As a child I saw the sun
hanging over the marsh,
when it caught the first red rays.
In that marsh land
long-tailed widow-birds
glided deeper into the reeds.
Plover’s pretending
to have broken wings,
tried to entice me away
from their nests.
In life’s marsh
there were enemy soldiers
that was stone-dead,
while I had hidden deeper
into the reeds.
Groups of enemy patrols
cut past following the river,
to find my comrades and I.
Every time that the sun
hanged new over the reeds,
the enemy became less
and the chance to catch us diminished
and mosquitoes swarmed around me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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Illiteracy
some homes breed love
some homes breed hatred
some homes breed moderation
some homes breed extremes
some homes breed worldliness
some homes breed racism
some homes breed kindness
somehomes breed religious bigotry
throw in illiteracy and any country would be bloom to bits
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Mosquitoes
You are under the influence of alcohol and,
You are under the tutlage to walk around naked;
But these are the shadows of things to come.
You are as sad as the sad note of a keyboard!
Because mosquitoes do not descriminate;
And they are here in the city to breed their offspring.
Tell me something that i don't know and,
Do not make promises that you cannot keep;
For the Bond of 1844 is still in my mind.
Of men and women in shackles,
And of an act like Joan of Arcadia!
But with questionable living condition.
At the prisions of the world without hope,
And of the many promises gone by;
But mosquitoes do not discriminate from whom to bite.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Loneliness
Have you seen
How loneliness
Gnaws at you
Like termites
In a wooden
Body…
You are
Not an
Old piece
Of furniture
That can be
Replaced -
With a body
New.
So,
Helplessly
Hopelessly
You let the
Termites…
Chew into you.
On second thoughts
Even if you had -
A body refreshed
And new, wouldn't
Those termites…
Still find you?
After all,
As long as
You live,
Loneliness
Lives with you.
It's only those
In between
Fillers of
*Joyous*
Excitement
That come
Visiting you,
But they soon
Bid you adieu.
Loneliness
Stays.
It's your
Lifelong
Enemy.
It whips you
Haunts you…
Threatens you
Bullies you.
You try
Scaring it away.
It never
Leaves you.
It thrives
Within you
Like a termites'
Colony and keeps
Eating into you…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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My Favorite Girl
My favorite girl, oh, shes my favorite girl, dont you know,
My favorite girl, oh, shes my favorite girl.
You walked into my life, your love was so new,
And nothing will ever change my feelings for you,
Well, you were so far away, now I am close to you, girl,
So let us run away, our heart thats waiting will stay.
My favorite...
Theres so much I like in you I cant go on,
I wanted a girl like you Ive looked so long,
Girl, nothing will make us wrong, I know our love is too strong,
Lets leave the rest behind, our dreams ask what we will find.
My favorite...
My favorite...
(rap:) shes my favorite girl, the one Im always thinking of, that one.
(rap:) my favorite girl, the one I love.
My favorite... (repeat & fade ad lib)
song performed by by New Kids On The Block
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bad Company
Fatigued and exhausted home coming makes me restless
As if I am swallowed whole by the emptiness
Stacked famous ones whirl around, pity me
As termites start digesting me
Spider webs decorating walls
House lizards playing ball
Bed-bugs play hide & seek
Rats sprint on rugs
Mosquitoes sing
Buzzing
flies
Melodious
Cricket's chirping
Frog's croaking, all keep me
Awake whole night yet fill my emptiness
With their presence without which my life
Would have been one of emptiness and loneliness
Getting rid of them from the core threaten my existence
Yet I am bent upon driving them out to be with HIM in ONENESS
-------x----------
All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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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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Down At The Marsh
Down at the marsh
weavers rock up and down,
down at the marsh
your lips are soft against mine
when a big dog barks far away
and your right knee has lost some skin
down at the marsh.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Transgenic
We are the new breed
We are the future
We are the new breed
We are the future
We are immune to life itself
Cold rules are reality
We are immune to life itself
Cold rules are reality
Born, breed, beaten
Born, breed, beaten
We have control of destiny
We have control of what's to be
We have control of destiny
We have control of what's to be
Born, breed, beaten
Born, breed, beaten [X2]
[Chorus:]
New breed, new breed
New breed, new breed
We are immune to life itself
Cold rules are reality
We have control of destiny
We have control of what's to be
Born, breed, beaten
Born, breed, beaten [X2]
[Repeat chorus]
New breed, we are the new breed
New breed, we are the future
New breed, we are the new breed
New breed, we are the future
New breed
New breed
New breed [X3]
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They Cannot Harm Anymore
mother was writing her lesson plan
and i was watching her
beside a lamp, that was then when
there was no electricity yet available in the barrio
the sound of the cicadas were loud and the
lizards keep eating the moth on the ceiling
i touched a wall eaten with termites and asked mother
if termites could do us harm or the wood
finally giving in to the hollowness of their skin
all substances she said have their terminals
wood surrender to the greed of termites
and termites build their own empires under the earth
so she said do not complain if this house
that we live in soon fall to the ground and be nothing
but flanks of rotten memories
the law of nature is there
we are all temporary
nothing lasts forever
those that eat and those that are eaten
are but part of their
paths to destiny.
fate cannot harm, they serve the law
and everything has a purpose unique on its own.
i look upon my blank sheet of paper
and then i begin to write again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green is my favorite. And it's my favorite because it's the color of my wife's eyes, grass, trees, life, and money, and mother earth!
quote by Casper Van Dien
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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New Bread
We are the new breed
We are the future
We are the new breed
We are the future
We are immune to life itself
Cold rules are reality
We are immune to life itself
Cold rules are reality
Born, bred, beaten
Born, bred, beaten
We have control of destiny
We have control of what's to be
We have control of destiny
We have control of what's to be
Born, bred, beaten
Born, bred, beaten (x2)
Chorus:
New breed, new breed
New breed, new breed
We are immune to life itself
Cold rules are reality
We have control of destiny
We have control of what's to be
Born, bred, beaten
Born, bred, beaten (x2)
Repeat chorus
New breed, we are the new breed
New breed, we are the future
New breed, we are the new breed
New breed, we are the future
New breed
New breed
New breed (x3
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Forest Inside
once i went inside the forest
it was like a cave of trees
the labyrinths are many
islands and slits of lights
drizzles of rain from up high
it is gray world
cold, damp, and very silent
as though
it is the first day of the earth
and i were the first man
created.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thoughts Before The Much Needed Sleep...
one wonders, at times, in the middle of
(nowhere)
of the room, where books scatter like chairs
after a wild party, that class reunion after
25 long years, (back to the main point)
of wonder, when pushed at the edge,
whether, the things done, year after year,
polishing each, like old shoes that do not break
priding of their crocodile skins, are right
correct, and justified, whether the conclusions
arrived at are, true, useful, and normally
good, one lays his head against the tip
of the easy chair, supports the neck with both
hands and look at the ceiling for answers that
do not come out easily, but appear like lizards
still waiting for their cockroach and favorite mosquitoes,
this office has mosquitoes and cockroaches,
and, as the answers are not ready made, but
slimy like fishes on the river Kwai, one stares like
a blank wall, eyes closed later, fall into sleep and
dream.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Favorite Time
My favorite time of morning
Is that time of morning when
I have a cup of warm coffee in my hands
And the sun barely peeks over the land
When the day is yet unwritten
When I am alone in the quiet
With thoughts of you
To keep me company
At my favorite time
My favorite time of the day
Is that time of day when
I hear your voice or see your words
And I know you are engaged in me
As I am engaged in you
As I am replete with thoughts of you
Warm thoughts of you
Across the miles
At my favorite time
My favorite time of the night
Is that time of night when
I close my eyes and dream of you
And my dreams are vivid, sweet and real
In them we are together
In them there is no yesterday or tomorrow
Only a never ending today
With you always
At my favorite time
So my favorite time really
Is that real time
I am privileged to think of you
And to know that no matter what
You are all I could ever want
You are all I will ever need
In a partner, friend and love
I know this now because with you I am always
In my favorite time
poem by David Terry
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If I'm out trailriding, I have a favorite motorcycle. Riding on the road, I've got a favorite. If I'm jumping, I have a favorite, and if I'm racing, I have a favorite.
quote by Evel Knievel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Florida
The state with the prettiest name,
the state that floats in brackish water,
held together by mangrave roots
that bear while living oysters in clusters,
and when dead strew white swamps with skeletons,
dotted as if bombarded, with green hummocks
like ancient cannon-balls sprouting grass.
The state full of long S-shaped birds, blue and white,
and unseen hysterical birds who rush up the scale
every time in a tantrum.
Tanagers embarrassed by their flashiness,
and pelicans whose delight it is to clown;
who coast for fun on the strong tidal currents
in and out among the mangrove islands
and stand on the sand-bars drying their damp gold wings
on sun-lit evenings.
Enormous turtles, helpless and mild,
die and leave their barnacled shells on the beaches,
and their large white skulls with round eye-sockets
twice the size of a man's.
The palm trees clatter in the stiff breeze
like the bills of the pelicans. The tropical rain comes down
to freshen the tide-looped strings of fading shells:
Job's Tear, the Chinese Alphabet, the scarce Junonia,
parti-colored pectins and Ladies' Ears,
arranged as on a gray rag of rotted calico,
the buried Indian Princess's skirt;
with these the monotonous, endless, sagging coast-line
is delicately ornamented.
Thirty or more buzzards are drifting down, down, down,
over something they have spotted in the swamp,
in circles like stirred-up flakes of sediment
sinking through water.
Smoke from woods-fires filters fine blue solvents.
On stumps and dead trees the charring is like black velvet.
The mosquitoes
go hunting to the tune of their ferocious obbligatos.
After dark, the fireflies map the heavens in the marsh
until the moon rises.
Cold white, not bright, the moonlight is coarse-meshed,
and the careless, corrupt state is all black specks
too far apart, and ugly whites; the poorest
post-card of itself.
After dark, the pools seem to have slipped away.
The alligator, who has five distinct calls:
friendliness, love, mating, war, and a warning--
whimpers and speaks in the throat
of the Indian Princess.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Neither you nor I
Cows breed more, deer breed more and hares breed more;
They must breed more for forests want them more.
They must feed lions, tigers and foxes
With their casualties in multitudes.
The poor breed more and the lowly breed more;
They must breed more for societies want them more
They must serve the rich, masters and leaders
With their casualties in multitudes.
Between the forests and the societies,
The difference is: forests gave no saints
Whereas the societies gave saints in chain.
No change in societies as in forests..
Who is the planer? Who can defeat him?
Who is the keeper? Who can control him?
Who is the owner? Who can approach him?
Neither you nor I can reform the world.
15.07.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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