Beauty is described
She is a beauty
Whose mouth is as wide as a python’s,
Whose nose is as sharp as a sparrow’s
Whose neck is long as a peacock’s
Whose mane is as dense as a lion’s
Whose hip is as broad as a duck’s
And whose legs are as tall as a crane’s,
What about her breasts?
Any shape; breasts themselves are beauty
For men, who’d been denied enough feeding.
01.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Conceal to reveal
Breasts bare, breasts with bra,
Breasts revealing the cleavage,
Breasts under blouse with bare belly
And breasts with contour visible
Have their appeal up in that order.
The more one is left for imagination
The more the beauty will reveal.
06.12.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Marks for beauty
Dense hair itself stands for beauty.
The fair skin or massive breasts do.
A distinct jaw too stands out for beauty.
Energy or wit will add it.
Not to have all to be a beauty.
30.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Liberation of female sex.
You cannot grow taller than you are.
But you can be leaner than you are.
Dwarf is not the sign of beauty.
Be thin to look taller.
Surging breasts and broad hip are outdated.
Tiny breasts and narrow frame are the order of the day.
29.05.2001, Berhampur
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beauty has no standard
Plump cheeks,
Surging breasts,
Massive buttocks
Fleshy thighs.
It is epic beauty.
Firm cheeks,
Standing breasts,
Bonny buttocks,
Slender thighs,
It is modern beauty.
Beauty reforms according to fashion.
26.04.2002, pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beauty or Truth
How shall I love you
................in beauty or in truth?
Your beauty is plain to see,
Not something you can hide.
Your truth must you freely give me.
So deeply within you it abides.
I prefer to touch your beauty,
There in your eyes where it glows.
I cannot feel the truth
That in you somewhere grows.
I cannot taste the truth,
Sweet words in your mouth,
From deeper thoughts where it lies,
But your lips are tasty buds of everything alive.
I cannot smell the truth
................of your firmament,
But the perfume of your beauty
.................is the fragrance I long to sense.
I will love you in your beauty
.................embrace your breasts and womanness
And I will love you in your truth
.................nestled in your inner essence
I cannot desire the one and not the other.
I’m compelled to feel the beauty of your charms
And in your arms embrace the treasure of who you are
....................— even if it takes an eternity.
poem by Ben Gieske
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Lust has no eyes
To my eyes, mind, heart and soul,
Her nose, a masculine one, is tormenting;
Her lips, uneven, are devastating;
Her lock, a thin plait, is over whelming;
Her breasts, just a purse, are hurling;
Her fingers, un-manicured, are gambling;
Her bottom, not a convex, is stirring.
No word, she uttered to please,
Nor any deed conspicuous either.
Calls answered but not one made.
Letters received but not one sent.
Yet so much passion in her is visible.
Yet so much lust from her is discerned.
She is not a beauty, still is opium.
She is not feeding, still sates.
She stands as a proof that
It is not woman’s beauty one is after.
20.01.2001, Pmdi [repitation
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Face is the signifier of under world
The sexiest shape of a woman is her
mouth,
Indicating the depth of her channel.
The sexiest shape of a man is his nose,
Signifying the length of his sword.
A wide mouth woman tempt men
A long nose man hooks women.
10.02.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The hidden breasts
A woman hides her breasts with clothes;
She hides them from being seen
To betray their presence by shape
More pronounced than the naked.
Anything that is hidden means
It’s location isn’t traceable.
Breasts aren’t hidden with clothes;
Breasts are decked out with clothes.
24.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beauty Has No Grammar
Egg shaped face, not moon like one,
Cropped hair, not a long plaited one,
Plain neck and face, not ornamented,
Tiny breasts, not surging ones,
And casual wears adorn modern girls.
Concept of beauty has no grammar.
01.08.2001
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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All About Two Friends
Two true friends they were.
A kite and a sparrow living in a tree.
They chit-chatted all day long
And forgot the rest of the world.
None an nothing could separate them
There came a dark and short man once
Who smiled and smiled at the sparrow and
Said aloud, 'It can`t be, how is it that you are here now?
The sparrow turned pale and looked at his friend, the kite.
The little man was looking into a foliage now.
Two true friends they were.
The kite murmered into the ears of his friend,
'Fear not my friend, I shall take you to another tree high and tall
And save you from this dark and short brute..come with me'.
As they flew off unto a far away tree, the'brute'down still smiled.
Two true friends they were.
The kite made the pal sit on a tall branch and said,
'It`s safe here, let me go back and ask that brute who he is? '
The bigger winged beauty flew back to old tree and the'dark brute'
And he hovered around both for some time.
The dark and the short man heard the kite speak,
'Who are you to speak to my friend and why did you speak such words? '
The smiling 'brute'said, 'Oh bird, I am the god of death and as per my book
Thy friend, the sparrow should be on the top of a far off tree
And should have been eaten by a huge snake by now, and therefore alone
I spoke to your friend words'.
Shocked, the flew back to the tree high and tall,
His friend the sparrow was not there on any branch!
Down across the shrubs was moving a big python after feasting on the prey.
The kite flew off unto the skies infinite next.
He and his late friends were two true friends.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Lion In An Iron Cage
Look at the lion in the iron cage,
look deep into his eyes:
like two naked steel daggers
they sparkle with anger.
But he never loses his dignity
although his anger
comes and goes
goes and comes.
You couldn't find a place for a collar
round his thick, furry mane.
Although the scars of a whip
still burn on his yellow back
his long legs
stretch and end
in the shape of two copper claws.
The hairs on his mane rise one by one
around his proud head.
His hatred
comes and goes
goes and comes ...
The shadow of my brother on the wall of the dungeon
moves
up and down
up and down.
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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The face is value giver.
To know which breasts are lovely
From the two pairs looking alike,
I must know whose breasts they are.
The breasts owe their value to their face.
31.01.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Subixa, the singer
A slim, fair, tall, young maiden on the stage,
Singing Karnatic music for an hour,
Struck my chord with her grace and modern looks.
Save her head and limbs, no skin was visible.
The seventh day moon was her close forehead.
The nose, neither broad nor sharp, was in place.
Her lips, by width and breadth, were fabulous,
So charming that the eyes never took off.
The chin, a Cape Komarine, is nice to watch.
Her neck, a peduncle, betrayed blue veins.
The hair, hung in style, was a crown on head.
She was such a beauty as could be felt
And pleased without any vulgar thought
Even by men of passion, to say the least.
23.01.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beauty, Beauty
Beauty, beauty in the light. Beauty, Beauty falling through. How sweet must beauty, beauty be. Beauty, beauty how it's happy. Beauty, beauty in the sky and in the grass. Beauty, beauty in the trees. Beauty, beauty on the ground. Beauty, beauty crawling on the ground. Beauty, beauty always climbing. Beauty, beauty that we are sirrounded by.
poem by Shania K. Younce
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Just For One Night
she is attractive
all the right curves
and a pretty face
she is noticeable
and forgettable
she fills a thought
made in lustful desire
legs, lips, breasts
there's a temptation
or a dream for later on
you do no stare at her
just look over a few times
gathering a picture
thinking something over
sex had its own reasons
for coming and going
often without compassion
that girl, pretty as she is
her legs, lips, breasts
would fill an appetite
just for one night
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Where Beauty Lies
Not the curve of the hips
Or the shape of the lips
Nor the clothes she wears
Or the color of her hair
Not in the numbers on the scale
But in the person who always seems to care
The beauty of a person
No matter who they are
Can only be measured
From the warmness of the heart
Not the face she wears
Or the voice she shares
But the expressions she makes
And the words that she creates
It's in the smile she puts on
even when everything has gone wrong
Beauty lies within the fire inside
That refuses to let her run and hide
Beauty shines from inside her
Throughout everything she does
Beauty comea from the way she stands strong for what she beleives
And can never be forced
To surrender to her knees
Beauty,
Is when she stands tall
Even when she has lost it all
Her hopes never shatter and fall
Beauty is when
Her soul is so bright
It shines through
In the darkest of nights
She leads the way
With no sighs of dismay
From the legs to the hips
From the eyes to the lips
It all does'nt matter
This is the beauty
that i wish to capture
poem by Tamara Puyear
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Modesty counts
Breasts when hidden add value to the cleavage.
Breasts when hidden make the loins seductive.
Breasts when hidden add poise to the face
Breasts must be hidden to make men erotic.
25.01.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Hindu woman beauty
Translucent neck, crescent forehead,
Bow like eyebrow, doe’s eyes,
Hilly cheeks, cherry lips,
Beaky nose, milky teeth,
With back dropp of cloudy hair
Provide a countenance. It strikes.
Snake-gourd arms, tulip palm,
Snaky fingers, eggi nails,
Dicot branching breasts
Decking out like cashew apples,
Banyan leaf like belly
Provide a profile. It hooks.
Boat like beam, banana stem thighs,
Pomegranate open fruit in between,
Crane legs and the feet
As tapering as the bud of banana
Inflorescence,
Provide a receptacle. It arreats.
Then a woman has no need
To be adorned and ornamented,
To catch hold of a king.
24.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Gradually, It Happens
gradually we like how dead things rise from their ashes
managing to take a shape like the neck of the heron
the white long neck of the heron
amidst the green rice fields just below a crumple of blue clouds
and then the sun slowly rises from the hills that look like
breasts of a woman just awaking from a very deep sleep
beside her lover who is too drunk from the many jugs
of happy moments which he drank....
last night, it was raining so hard
but they never noticed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Finding beauty
Is Beauty like pornography?
-identified by sight.
Is the 'eye of the beholder' school
the one that got it right?
For them a pleasing symmetry,
of eyes, lips, breasts and hips
is ample justification
to launch a thousand ships.
For them beauty is genetic,
gifted by heredity
you get it from your parents-
much like their insanity.
For most, its unattainable-
that certain je ne sais quoit-
Still women spend a fortune
on beauty in a jar.
Lust for curves? -drive the Taconic
or the Pacific Coast Highway.
They both boast scenic beauty
and have fewer tolls to pay.
Instead seek beauty in her eyes,
the mirror of her soul.
For they will remain beautiful
as together you grow old
poem by John F. McCullagh
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