Both poles
Intimacy – Privacy,
To fondle – to nestle,
To command – to respond,
One needs both poles
To balance his own pole.
09.11.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Twin tism
bonds entwined
between two poles:
a sad pole,
a mirthful pole
the sad rubs off on the
joyful, the mirthful
colours the sad pole
a scintillating interaction
springs to life. in my eyes
the poles always stay
connected - like two
dissimilar twins.
but
kid myself not. these
work on electricity
a silent gleam of thunder
visible only to the
discerning eye.
alas:
.power cut! the ravishing
bolt fell flat. And so the twin
poles found each other no
more. sad but true. This i
observed with my cherished
companions.
poem by Michael Witkowski
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Intimacy
Afraid of intimacy.
A heart that has been stung,
Just once...
Becomes more suspicious,
And less naive...
When a stinging from someone loved,
Is untimely done.
Afraid of intimacy.
Very few are ready to commit to this.
Until assured some consistency,
Is readily given...
In the sharing of mutual needs.
Not many will leave themselves open.
Or acknowledge publicly...
A wish for a love uncompared,
Shared in secret privacy.
And one devoted and discreet.
Afraid of intimacy?
Not me!
Whether private in discreet...
Or publicly displayed on crowded streets.
I seek a one on one!
That would suit me perfectly.
But these days that kind of intimacy,
Seems to be antiquated history.
Afraid of intimacy.
Very few are ready to commit to this.
Until assured some consistency,
Is readily given...
In the sharing of mutual needs.
And that would be my philosophy,
Regarding how I feel about intimacy.
An act complete of 'shared' familiarity.
Not something done to walk away from and leave.
That's nothing more than satisfying a convenience.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Pole and The Rope
A pole and the rope not visible at all,
Pulled and rewind cord, perfect of all.
From the middle of the heart,
The cable extends near and afar,
From the center of the nation,
The chain prolong to space station,
When the pole is the love,
The rope is the responsibilities.
Stuck to the invisible pole of love,
Our responsibilities inspire us to excel,
For each and every one of them,
Whom we love and cherish.
From the pole of patriotism,
Our duties start to end in victory.
Is there any difference?
Between the love and patriotism,
The poles, around which our life goes around.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Nestle
Nestle, nestle, nestle!
Come and nestle up my tea when,
I have no choice at all.
Yes, you can kill the prophets but,
You cannot kill the message!
So do nestle up my tea and my nest like,
The hopes and dreams that i have for you.
Of the optical values of my love to you,
To swing out the muse with love and care;
Like the love that we share on this picture.
Come and nestle up my nest and my tea,
Like the comprehensive ideas from my conscious;
For the wind blows to where it wants to.
Come to me my lover,
Come and let us share the secrets of our love;
Like the nakedness of your love in an open air with,
The thing called love all along to muse us together.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ambition
The trouble with the greasy pole is this,
its slippage demands, you stand,
on someone elses shoulder,
for balance,
and tightly must you hold
the ankles above and maybe the shoes.
The one above too does the same.
The position is precarious,
should slippage come, and grip
slip,
and then like Icarus
you slide.
The pole is not so good,
it is a greasy pole.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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Intimacy is feared
Lovers fear secrecy
As they both have secrecy.
Intimacy means connecting
The inner core of the two,
Which will expose their weak spots,
Fearing which they fear intimacy.
They want bodily intimacy
Without soul’s intimacy.
Such intimacy betrays trust
And will wreck the very love.
15.12.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Privacy under what circumstance? Privacy at home under what circumstances? You have more privacy if everyone's illiterate, but you wouldn't really call that privacy. That's ignorance.
quote by Bruce Sterling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Things To Be Balanced
Balance my heart between fast and slow beating rate,
Balance my wealth between the pauper and the rich state,
Balance my food between malnourished and overeating,
Balance my thought between weird and super serene.
Balance the car tyres to get aligned,
Balance the budget without any deficit,
Balance the love for the work and the family,
Balance the time between the recreations and duties.
Lord, Balance my posture of attitude at the altitude,
Balance my temperamental words when in multitude,
Balance the balance of deeds, on the judgment day,
by adding some good deeds or removing something bad.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The 'Good' Life
Wake up in the morning to screaming,
Reporters getting into your personal life,
No privacy,
As you walk down the street,
You are followed constantly by people you do not know
No privacy
You break up with your girlfriend, for the fifth time
It’s on the cover of a magazine
No privacy
Every fucking shit we take,
It’s recorded somewhere
No privacy
You die a tragic death at a young age,
People who you have never met attend your funeral
No privacy
This is what we call the “good” life…
poem by Wandering Scarlet
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The right of an individual to conduct intimate relationships in the intimacy of his or her own home seems to me to be the heart of the Constitution's protection of privacy.
quote by Harry A. Blackmun
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Society- a necessary evil.
Society is resistant.
But for it, where is your pride?
Without it, where is identity?
In privacy, where is intimacy?
You can’t walk without resistance.
23.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Four Poetic Points For The Neighborhood To Ponder
i
it is that particular moment
when your tongue tastes the skin of the wind
and it shall tell you too about its long
and unfinished journey
it is this intimacy with the hands of the wind
the talk that both of you do more often under the moon
ii
it is when you sit on the floor
your back rests on the wall
it is this intimacy of self-talking upon itself
when the wall begins to respond
when the floor finally makes its comments
iii
the neighborhood begins to doubt you
but you have no doubt about yourself or the floor's sincerity
or the door's indulgence
or the intimacy with the wind and the wall
which offers you a buffer between emptiness and
chaos
eventually everything has come
smooth and natural
well folded like the waves
well covered like the mist on the tree tops
iv
what you have to serve to all these inquisitors
is an empty glass upon an imaginary tray
which they still have to figure out
why you are serving them the perfect drops of silence
for all their thirsts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kiss and make love
Touching lips like a butterfly
Gentle caress, gentle embrace
An endearment lifetime long
Brush the breast like a butterfly
Cuddle so softly with embrace
Endearment felt with a hug
Kiss and snuggle slowly done
Stroke to caress to embrace
Bear hug and brushing lips
Feel and fondle, rub hips
Graze and handle with care
Massage neck and nuzzle
Play around, squeeze, stroke
Hug and kiss, make love
Caress, curl up and enfold
Fondle, huddle and hug
Kiss with love and nestle
Nuzzle snug and soft to touch
Stroking, tasting, touching
Shy away for a moment
Feeling, caressing, fondling
Come together and massage
Brush and caress, collision
Cuddling with a loving touch
poem by Char Pattrick
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Happy moments
Whenever there is privacy
You are liberal with your instincts.
When it is coupled with secrecy
You are double liberal with it
There lies your soul’s intimacy,
Which gives you a sense of ecstasy.
01.03.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Separate savings
The tightest intimacy
Is the physical intimacy
That husband and wife enjoy.
Their separate earnings
And separate pooling
Would mar that intimacy.
The scarifying tendency
In them will slowly die.
13.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Jigsaw
Here we hear that a perch stands for fish or for pole, -
though this pole can be twenty four feet long or square –
or a pole upon which
a kingfisher can perch
before diving to fish for his dinner dish.
Don’t consider it rude if we add that a rood
is the same as a perch, or a pole or a rod,
and a rood is a Cross, so please don’t become cross
as we must get across that this cross can be square, -
and this square cross can lengthwise be measured – so there!
A pole, too, is a fish, somewhat flounderish
with fine fins which swish and a face like a dish.
Thus kingfisher must fish for his dish, and that dish is a dish,
so lets face it in anguish, - a dish is a dish is a fish!
As a face is a head, and a head is a poll
which tells who is ahead, or shows what each prole
thought of what someone said:
and a wat, as all know, is a temple Cambo –
all the sages who sow seeds of wisdom say, - oh,
to all this don’t say ‘No! ’
Then watt brings us a light which shines down in the night, -
though this seems ‘out of sight’, you should now see the light, -
that kingfishers alight as they perch on their pole
ere they pounce on their poll
for to search for their perch,
for the soul of the sole in the shoal.
What rude fishermen do
before rod poles align
with a line from their perch to their perch.
Like the kingfisher too, bird of brilliant hue,
is our parrot, Poll, who is no stranger to you.
When he’s not being rude he tends somewhat to brood
or repeat through and through, as in these lines I do.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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I particularly recognize that reasonable people can disagree as to what that proper balance or blend is between privacy and security and safety.
quote by John Pistole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In exchange for power, influence, command and a place in history, a president gives up the bulk of his privacy.
quote by Roger Mudd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Only Wave My Hand To My Neighbor
i only wave my hand
to my neighbor
not wanting to go beyond
that intimacy or
that familiarity which i have always
thought of
(as others do too)
as a breeder of
contempt
& i do not want that
to happen,
sometimes, we choose the luxury of
our own privacy
the dignity of our own hideaway
inside the pages of a book
in the busy world
of our minds
we dance there
alone with our own hands
to the sounds of the patting of our
own feet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Suspecting is inborn
In spite of intimacy,
In spite of privacy,
And in spite of secrecy,
No woman of repute
Budged an inch to my wish.
Yet, I am beset with doubts
When my woman is closeted
With men acquaintances.
23.05.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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