A woman’s form
The twins turning away in enmity,
The head resting on a long pedestal,
And the trunk cased by a stable hip,
A woman is in form, lacking other features.
29.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Twos and twins
Twins are not two; they are distinct from two.
Eyes are twins; breasts are twins; so are legs.
Two noses aren’t twins, nor two faces.
Twines are not together nor separate.
By friendship two cannot become twins
Bur sexual relation can make two twins.
Twins are held by a link so hard to split.
Lovers are twins, neither one nor two.
30.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman mantles man
Though it overweighs and overspreads,
A canopy is not independent of the trunk,
Which is woman on who balances man.
Woman needs no empowerment.
13.12.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The nearness
Closer a man and a woman become,
Their features gain acceptability.
The nearness airs the burning desire.
09.02.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mother's Talk
My features form with a change in the weather
Weekend
We can work it out
My features form with a change in the weather
Weekend
We can work it out
When the wind blows
When the mothers talk
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the mothers talk
When the wind blows
We can work it out
It's not that you're not good enough
It's just that we can make you better
Given that you pay the price
We can keep you young and tender
Following in the footsteps of a funeral pyre
You were paid not listen now your house is on fire
Wake me up when things get started
When everything starts to happen
My features form with a change in the weather
Some of us horrified
Others never talk about it
But when the weather starts to burn
Then you'll know that you're in trouble
Following in the footsteps of a soldier girl
It is time to put your clothes on and to face the world
Don't you feel your luck is changing
When everything starts to happen
Put your head right next to my heart
The beat of the drum is the fear of the dark
My features form with a change in the weather
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Songs From The Big Chair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Long
It’s been too long since I felt the soft touch of a woman’s hands rub my bald head.
It’s been too long since I felt the gentleness of a woman’s lips press against mind.
It’s been too long since I cuddled with a woman’s head up against my chest listening to my heart beat.
It’s been too long since my tongue has slipped between a woman’s thighs and her juices drip down my throat.
It has been too long since I have made love to a woman and felt her inner walls pulsate.
It has been too long since a woman made my leg shake as I climax.
It’s been at least nine months and that’s far too long.
Mothers Talk
My features form with a change in the weather
Weekend
We can work it out
My features form with a change in the weather
Weekend
We can work it out
When the wind blows
When the mothers talk
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the mothers talk
When the wind blows
We can work it out
Its not that youre not good enough
Its just that we can make you better
Given that you pay the price
We can keep you young and tender
Following in the footsteps of a funeral pyre
You were paid not listen now your house is on fire
Wake me up when things get started
When everything starts to happen
My features form with a change in the weather
Some of us horrified
Others never talk about it
But when the weather starts to burn
Then youll know that youre in trouble
Following in the footsteps of a soldier girl
It is time to put your clothes on and to face the world
Dont you feel your luck is changing
When everything starts to happen
Put your head right next to my heart
The beat of the drum is the fear of the dark
My features form with a change in the weather
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dissolving Into Ghost
At dinnertime,
I softly gaze out the window
Into the evening turning black.
I eat my food slowly
And never turn backwards
To let my eyes
Roam into the lonely bedroom.
I’ve spent years alone
Dissolving into ghost;
I don’t want to see a book
Resting at the head of the bed
Where once a woman slept.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Let me keep watch
Let me keep watch
Over your body when
You are resting in peace.
Let me sacrifice
My meditation to you
When you are resting in peace
Let me protect your body
From rotting
When you are resting in peace.
Let me protect your memories
And dreamless dreams
When you are resting in peace.
Let me plant a fruit tree
Above you that I may still eat
When you are resting in peace.
Let me storm the gates of heaven
When you are resting in peace.
Let me give you oblation
Of our experience
When you are resting in peace.
Let me breathe for you
When you are resting in peace.
Let me douse the fires of hell
When you are resting in peace.
Let me glorify your name
When you are resting in peace.
Let me be your counterpoint
When you are resting in peace.
Let me overcome the light
When you are resting in peace.
Let me touch your organs
When you are resting in peace.
Let me drink your water
When you are resting in peace.
Let me describe your bones
When you are resting in peace.
Let me dream your dreams
When you are resting in peace.
poem by David E. Patton
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The specialty of sex
The specialty of sex is
That enmity never stands
Between two opposite sexes
In spite of disparity..
30.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Useless help
The help rendered with contempt
Will fetch you no gratitude
And, instead, will earn you enmity.
Don’t help if not with generosity.
30.10.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The sixth sense wonders
Comparison and imagination
Are the twins born of the sixth sense of man.
They generate jealousy and prejudice,
Which perpetuate enmity among men.
19.09.2012.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The rudimentary forms
Rivalry is the rudimentary
Form of enmity.
Solidarity is the rudimentary
Form of fear.
Sports and games are the rudimentary
Form of fight
Friendship across sex is the rudimentary
Form of sexual love
04.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Posterity's Award
I'd long been dead, but I returned to earth.
Some small affairs posterity was making
A mess of, and I came to see that worth
Received its dues. I'd hardly finished waking,
The grave-mould still upon me, when my eye
Perceived a statue standing straight and high.
'Twas a colossal figure-bronze and gold
Nobly designed, in attitude commanding.
A toga from its shoulders, fold on fold,
Fell to the pedestal on which 'twas standing.
Nobility it had and splendid grace,
And all it should have had-except a face!
It showed no features: not a trace nor sign
Of any eyes or nose could be detected
On the smooth oval of its front no line
Where sites for mouths are commonly selected.
All blank and blind its faulty head it reared.
Let this be said: 'twas generously eared.
Seeing these things, I straight began to guess
For whom this mighty image was intended.
'The head,' I cried, 'is Upton's, and the dress
Is Parson Bartlett's own.' True, _his_ cloak ended
Flush with his lowest vertebra, but no
Sane sculptor ever made a toga so.
Then on the pedestal these words I read:
'_Erected Eighteen Hundred Ninety-seven_'
(Saint Christofer! how fast the time had sped!
Of course it naturally does in Heaven)
'_To_ --' (here a blank space for the name began)
'_The Nineteenth Century's Great Foremost Man_!'
'_Completed_' the inscription ended, '_in
The Year Three Thousand_'-which was just arriving.
By Jove! thought I, 'twould make the founders grin
To learn whose fame so long has been surviving
To read the name posterity will place
In that blank void, and view the finished face.
Even as I gazed, the year Three Thousand came,
And then by acclamation all the people
Decreed whose was our century's best fame;
Then scaffolded the statue like a steeple,
To make the likeness; and the name was sunk
Deep in the pedestal's metallic trunk.
Whose was it? Gentle reader, pray excuse
The seeming rudeness, but I can't consent to
Be so forehanded with important news.
'Twas neither yours nor mine-let that content you.
If not, the name I must surrender, which,
Upon a dead man's word, was George K. Fitch!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Abode of Gods...
Sun filtering warmth
Through Silver Oak trees,
As I lay
Resting my head
Against
The trunk….
Only sound
Of Holy Ganges,
Gurgling in the vicinity…
Birds paying
Homage quietly
From the top of tree…
In God’s abode,
Hrishikesh
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Afterglow (Of Your Love)
Love
Love is all around me everywhere
Love has come to touch my soul
With someone who really cares
No one can denounce
People who once passed me by
Just turn their heads 'round
I'm happy just to be with you
And lovin' you the way I do
'Cause everything I need to know
Just resting in the afterglow of your love
You have always been
A feeling deep inside
A feeling that I could not see or touch or try to hide
My love is deep and drowns you
I bless the day that I found you
So listen baby
I'm happy just to be with you
And lovin' you the way I do
'Cause everything I need to know
Just resting in the afterglow of your love
Love is like a voice in my head
Keeps turning 'round the things that I'm saying
I'm happy just to be with you
And lovin' you the way I do
'Cause everything I need to know
Just resting in the afterglow of your love
I'm happy just to be with you
And lovin' you the way I do
'Cause everything I need to know
Just resting in the afterglow of your love
I'm happy just to be with you
And lovin' you the way I do
'Cause everything I need to know
Just resting in the afterglow of your love
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep distance for grace
Just grant audience.
He sees you on a peak.
Just throw a glance.
He sees you on a desk.
When access is granted
He sees you on a pedestal.
By physical intimacy,
You fall on floor, equal.
Woman, try to be on pedestal, the least.
18.08.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mother In Son’s Base.
Hail Mother Kali,
Which of your image,
Your son may guess,
To feel your incarnation.
Which of your form,
In meditation norm,
Conquer the carnal.
Mine is a vacant lot,
A waif with no mother’s care, -
The bounty graces, -
The cheek –lapping faces,
And tender affections layers,
Lacking, lacking, wanting I,
Too poor, to see thy, worth,
Thus your Divine,
No reacts on mine.
Hey my mother,
Show me further,
That in all woman you are,
Show me your that image, ,
My feeling may have coverage,
The mother in your son’s base.
poem by Bazi alis Subrata Ray
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While democracy in the long run is the most stable form of government, in the short run, it is among the most fragile.
quote by Madeleine Albright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jazzbo
Twins of twins and love of loves,
Dream of dreams and city of cities,
From the outcry of many for me to write;
But a hungry man is an angry man,
And like the sticky tricky words from the head!
But i am Jazzbo who wants to make things straight.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Turn
(len chera, jay huguely)
Turn out the light
Turn yourself over to me
Turn off the world
Turn my feelings free
Just enjoy the pleasure
For the pleasure pleases me
Youve been turning me on all night long
Now its my turn
You have reached the woman in me
Through the man in you
Let me be that woman
Before the lovins through
You just turn yourself over to me
While I turn my feelings free
Youve been turning me on all night long
Now its my turn
All night long
Ive been driven to your touch
Havent had time to give
Ive been taking so much
I know you want to hold me
But darling youve done enough
Youve been turning me on all night long
Now its my turn
Repeat verses #3 and #4
Repeat verse #4
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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