Essence of Azhaki (a tamil movie)
Thangamony and Shanmughom,
A loving pair diverged to suffer.
He had fortune and she, misfortune.
He had lovely spouse and she, a drunkard.
He met her, felt her and wept for her.
From the bed of rose, he thought of
thorn.
She ekes out; He weeps out.
She is coolly; He is gloomy
As a maid, she is hit, he doubly.
As her son is denied food,
He resolves to forgo his food.
She is more than his wife.
Her son is more than his.
Her humiliation is his humiliation.
As a widow, she is undisturbed
As a lover, he is perturbed.
He is not an ex-lover to her
But she is so, to him.
Her identity unfolds.
As his wife sulks
She flees their home.
He is upset.
Doubts are cleared.
His wife is reconciled.
He finds her son back
The son is backing home.
He is his foster father.
He cannot be the foster husband.
Her son and his daughter
Grow together
He could not live for her.
He wanted to live for her son.
His love for her
Is subtly sublimated on her son.
He does it with the hope
That she will return once
And see his gratitude.
If I were in his shoes
I would give her son my girl.
The love of
Thangamony and Shanmughom
Is the perfect example
For every ex-love pair.
31.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Azhaki [the beautiful], a movie
I heard that she was ill fated
To be knotted to a drunkard,
Who, being poor, stripped her of charm.
I was helpless to lend my arm.
I was strained.
I helped her husband earn
And send her money to keep her.
Not to last, he left once for all.
She’s left to earn as coolly.
I was pained.
I brought her to be a housemaid
To give her a safe livelihood.
The humility that she had
For her and the son made me soar.
I was wounded.
I brought her to help our household.
My wife’s innocence was her hold.
There, too, happiness short-lived
As our past story unfolded.
I was shattered.
Next day, once for all she had left.
Her son’s study was lost. I’m lost.
I wandered as a vagabond
In search of her without any end.
I was ripped.
The script that she left when she left
Cleared the dust of my wife’s eyes
And made her repent her ill doubt
About her modesty and the loss.
I was mutilated.
I found her son in an orphanage.
Now he lives with us in prestige.
I love him more than I love my child.
It is a tribute I give her.
I am soothed.
One loses one’s peace,
When one finds her ex-lover
In ill fated condition,
And does all to her,
To redeem her,
That he would not have done
That much
Had he made her as his wife.
31.05.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Friend, Lover, Sister, Mother/wife
If I ever held a hand
It was only because Id never held your hand
That was part of the plan
I had 2 get it right if I was 2 be your man
And if I ever kissed your lips
I needed time 2 cross the others off my list (off my list)
A higher high 2 the trip (trip)
I wanted u 2 go, that was my wish - yes it was
(ooh my) friend, lover, sister, mother/wife
Air, food, water, love of my life
If I ever shared a bed
It was only cuz I wanted 2 live up 2 what the people said, oh yes
(what they say? ) {x5}
Now Im livin instead
Everyday just 2 say ure the only one whos in my head
(the only one) {x2}
Oh yes u are
And if I ever made u cry
All I have 2 do is think about it and I just wanna die (I just wanna die)
(I just wanna break down and die, die, die, die)
How Id ever make it by (I dont know) without u, baby (without u, baby)
I dont know (no!), I hope I never have 2 try, yeah
(please dont ever leave me)
Oh, listen 2 me
(ooh my) friend, lover, sister, mother/wife
(my sweet, sweet friend, lover, sister, mother/wife)
Air, food, water, love of my life
The eyes of my child I see every time u look at me
(I see a sweet baby smile)
A sweet baby smile like a light that shines 4 all 2 see
(and if I ever held a hand) if I ever held a hand
Oh, twas only cuz Id never held yours
That was part of, part of the plan
I had 2 get it right (right) if I was 2 be your man because...
(ooh my) friend, lover, sister, mother/wife
(friend, lover, sister, mother/wife)
My, my, my, my air, my food, my water, love of my life (I love u)
(everlasting life)
Teacher (teacher), healer (healer), feeler (feeler), sight 4 sore eyes
(let me look at your eyes - ure so pretty)
Oh, yes u are, baby
(ooh my) dont u know ure my friend, my lover, my sister, love of my life (mother/wife)
Yeah, baby, yes u are
{te amo is I love u}
(ooh my) friend (te amo), lover (te amo), sister (te amo), mother/wife
(hug me, hug me, hug me baby, u are my life)
(Ill stay with u 4ever) {x2}
Till death do us part, baby (yes sir!)
Air (te amo), food (te amo), water (te amo), love (love of my life)
U are the only, only love of my life
My friend, lover, sister, mother/wife
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pretty woman
Pretty woman.
But wife is beautiful.
Pretty woman is hot.
But wife is the sexiest.
Pretty woman is just for sex.
But a wife is to make love.
Wife is a forbidden fruit.
To you and all.
and wife is more caring.
Be at home and by her husband.
and wife is the husband diamond.
And the husband love making love to her.
That no other women can.
Make him feel so good.
and her husband always in love.
With her.
And wife is the husband success.
Loving and warm full happiness.
She bears our children. And
She is the most gifted darling.
poem by See Fee Lee
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Where Are You?
If you want to live on a sweet love then,
Be my lover on this train;
Who will be my lover?
Who will be my woman?
Who will be my wife?
Who will give me children?
Oh, to you Ladies out there! !
Come and take me home;
My sweet woman to be,
I am missing you.
Come and show me the true colours of love,
Come and be my wife and let's have children.
Who am i to be blind; pretending not to see them?
Come and let's stay together on this love;
Yes, come and let's make babies.
Who will be my family?
Who will be my girl?
Who will be my woman?
Who will be my wife?
Who will i give my heart to?
Who will i share my soul with?
I need a woman to give me children.
Have you heard of Shakespeare?
Have you heard of St. Louis?
Then, hold back your tears to the one you love.
Who is after my love?
Who will be my lover?
I want someone special like you.
Hold back the tears of love to my heart,
Where are you girls?
Where are you ladies?
Where is the lover of my heart?
I'm still searching for the real love.
Lonely as i am, i can't let it go when i do find her.
I need someone who will let my heart beat,
I need someone to lean on;
So, lean on me if you are the one for me.
Where are you my sweet woman?
Tell me if you are my sweet lady;
I need someone who will feel my heart-beat.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Having a lover
Having a lover is not having pills
When ill, nor tonic when unwell,
Nor juice for thirst, nor food for hunger.
Having lover is having ginger
For appetite, liquor for lethargy
And a Viagra for man’s function
In his fantasy in bed with his wife
And an opium for woman’s orgasm
In fantasy when in bed with her husband.
By having a lover beside your spouse
You can eat your food you’re weary of.
The stigma of the extra marital is slain
07.11.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Family life
At home
Husband
And wife...
Some time fighting...
Word's to words...
With bad words...
Sometime hit
The husband wife
Mistakes...
Wife was crying...
Husband was woory...
Wife also
Lovingely hit...
Husband also take easy...
At night husband
Wanted wife
For sex...
Wife will say
Backpain acting
Going for
Hear with life
Every day
At familylife...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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I'm My Own Grandpa
It was many many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, she's as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red,
my father fell in lover with her, and soon these two were wed.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life:
My daughter was my mother 'cause she was my father's wife.
And then to complicate the matter, though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.
This bouncing baby then became a brother-in-law to dad,
and so became my uncle, though it made me very sad,
for if he was my uncle then he also was the brother
of the widow's grown-up daughter, who, of course, was my step-mother.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother, and it makes me blue,
because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother, too.
Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
Husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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My Wife Is A Most Knowing Woman
My wife is a most knowing woman,
She always is finding me out,
She never will hear explanations
But instantly puts me to rout,
There's no use to try and deceive her,
If out with my friends night or day,
In a most inconceivable manner,
She tells where I've been right away,
She says that I'm 'mean' and 'inhuman.'
Oh! My wife is a most knowing woman.
She would've been hung up for witchcraft
If she had lived sooner, I know,
There's no hiding anything from her,
She knows what I do -- where I go;
And if I come in after midnight
And say 'I have been to the lodge,'
Oh, she says while she flies in a fury,
'Now don't think to play such a dodge!
It's all very fine, but won't do, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.
Not often I go out to dinner
And come home a little 'so so,'
I try to creep up through the hall-way,
As still as a mouse, on tip-toe,
She's sure to be waiting up for me
And then comes a nice little scene,
'What, you tell me you're sober, you wretch you,
Now don't think that I am so green!
My life is quite worn out with you, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman!
She knows me much better than I do,
Her eyes are like those of a lynx,
Though how she discovers my secrets
Is a riddle would puzzle a sphynx,
On fair days, when we go out walking,
If ladies look at me askance,
In the most harmless way, I assure you,
My wife gives me, oh! such a glance,
And says 'all these insults you'll rue, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.
Yes, I must give all of my friends up
If I would live happy and quiet;
One might as well be 'neath a tombstone
As live in confusion and riot.
This life we all know is a short one,
While some tongues are long, heaven knows,
And a miserable life is a husband's
Who numbers his wife with his foes;
I'll stay at home now like a true man,
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.
poem by Stephen C. Foster
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George and Sarah Green
WHO weeps for strangers? Many wept
For George and Sarah Green;
Wept for that pair's unhappy fate,
Whose grave may here be seen.
By night, upon these stormy fells,
Did wife and husband roam;
Six little ones at home had left,
And could not find that home.
For 'any' dwelling-place of man
As vainly did they seek.
He perish'd; and a voice was heard--
The widow's lonely shriek.
Not many steps, and she was left
A body without life--
A few short steps were the chain that bound
The husband to the wife.
Now do those sternly-featured hills
Look gently on this grave;
And quiet now are the depths of air,
As a sea without a wave.
But deeper lies the heart of peace
In quiet more profound;
The heart of quietness is here
Within this churchyard bound.
And from all agony of mind
It keeps them safe, and far
From fear and grief, and from all need
Of sun or guiding star.
O darkness of the grave! how deep,
After that living night--
That last and dreary living one
Of sorrow and affright?
O sacred marriage-bed of death,
That keeps them side by side
In bond of peace, in bond of love,
That may not be untied!
poem by William Wordsworth
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A pious man
A pious man had gone to Burma
From where he came as a destitute,
Ran a petty shop on borrowed money,
Made to marry in late thirties to go
bankrupt,
Bore two sons and a daughter
From his equally poor but virulent
wife,
Became invalid in money and mind,
Lost his wife to his brother in celibacy,
Added one more daughter from him,
Lost the second son in electric shock,
Wandered and laboured for food,
Reaped every kind of humiliation,
And then died, later to be followed
By his wife, leaving the children
To be grown by the remaining father,
Who too died with children spreading
Under different shelters to live
And get married.
I shed my tears thinking that pious man,
Who gave me sweets when I was
Twelve, who begged of me with his Eyes
For money when I started earning.
04.10.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wife- better half of life
Wife is the better half of life
Give wife love affection as soul-mate
Wife is not glorified maid as said
Wife do not want money salary honorarium
Do not make hulla gulla and do not beat drum.
Mian bibi relationship should not be commercialized
Third party intervention in family relation vandalized.
Wife is not a domestic labourer
Wife is backbone of the family
The maile stone of the family
Wife is the torchlight of the family
Wife is the colorful star
Do no put any question to her.
Wife is there to give everything
Wife is not to take anything in return
Wife is the goddess.
Only mad man can say wife is a domestic servant
Make wife a wife life-partner better half
And enjoy life freely.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Are You a Good Husband?
All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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A Song for my Wife
my wife, my beloved wife...
my best friend forever
though it is not our anniversary,
yet there is nothing to celebrate,
I love you so much
I love you every day
until we die together
do you know until now,
we had the best family,
i had two beautiful daughters
my dear wife,
every time i wake up in the morning,
i always see your beautiful eyes
i love the warmth of you body
when ever you sleep in my arms
i feel your love so tender,
o my wife, my beloved wife
thought our marriage is not perfect
all I wish is to grow old with you.
poem by Rey Benipayo
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The Price Of Dead Love
His marriage is over but he has no tears
For the woman he was married to for just over two years
Though he miss his baby daughter when he comes home from work at night
In his marriage she was his one source of delight.
She is with his ex wife her mother who lives with her new man
And for him in her life his ex has only one plan
That he pay his alimony to her on Friday of every week
They no longer have common ground on which to speak.
On their wedding day he thought 'twould be for life
He was so in love with his beautiful wife
But just after two years of marriage love between them is dead
That the ways of love can be fickle no truer words said.
That his ex wife has left him for another he finds that as okay
But he misses his baby daughter when he comes home from work every day
That life has it's ups and downs it's always been this way
And the price of dead love it can be high to pay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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He Often Thinks Of Rosie
He often thinks of Rosie where might she be today?
Is she still back home in Derry from here long miles away
For three years they were an item but for them things did not work out
As often can happen in love affairs between one from a Northern Land and one from a Land in the far South.
He did not wish to live over there and in Melbourne she would not stay
Nostalgia won out over love or so 'twould seem that way
She went back home to Derry though he had asked her to become his wife
Young Rosie she was homesick a natural thing in life.
His wife and he have parted ways they have a year old son
The love died in their marriage he is not the first or he won't be the last one
To know of marriage failure such is life I do suppose
Yet his greatest love will always be the lovely brown haired Derry Rose.
He often thinks of Rosie they parted ways six years ago
He loved her and he always will though apart they did grow
Nostalgia won out over love in their case anyway
She went back home to Derry and home in Melbourne he did stay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Togetherness Is Gone
My wife,
Stop cleaning the house
Please come here
To accompany me
My husband,
The house is dirty
We aren't able to pay the maid
You've already retired
My wife,
Don't cook
It's a holiday
Let us eat outside the home
My husband,
Don't eat outdoors
We need efficient
You've already retired
My wife,
Let's keep me company
Why the rush to sleep
It's still early
My husband,
I have to get up early
To clean the house
And prepare breakfast
My wife,
I have to go this morning
My friends were waiting
Long we don't meet
My husband,
Be careful on the road
Greetings for your friends
But, why not breakfast?
My wife,
You have fallen asleep last night
I see you sleeping soundly all
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I'm sorry
I don't welcome you home
But, why should sleep on the sofa?
My wife,
I have to go again
I have social activities
With my old friends
My husband,
Don't forget dinner at home
You look very dapper
Although not wear perfume
My wife,
sorry, we were very busy
I had dinner with friends
Happy dinner, dear
My husband,
I woke up too early
But you're not at home
Where are you?
My wife,
I came home at midnight
I have to go early in the morning
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I just finished washing clothes
I've found the clothes that you wear today
But, why the smell of perfume?
poem by Hasanudin Sofyan
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Ode to my love, my Wife
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
I got you how! Wow! My splendid fate
I can’t believe, this fortune so great
Of your father, you were an ardent fan
But finally of your life, I became your man!
It was worth the wait, whatever I had to strive
To impress you and make you my wife!
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
‘Of opposites’ we are pair
Me dark and you very fair
You are organized and meticulous
I am disorganized though spontaneous
My poetic instincts you do admire
But my helping hand in the kitchen, is what you aspire!
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
As if I am a kid, me with care you look after
You gave me my sweet daughter
Anagha, our purpose of life, our treasure
Filling our life with joy and laughter
As Success, whatever I have achieved,
To Your Presence in my life, they are ascribed
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
I don’t know, whether I could become your Hero
But, without you in my life, I am a big Zero!
In all ups and down of life, you’ve supported me!
Sweet heart, on this wedding anniversary
Instead of dress, gold or diamond jewelry
I gift you, filled with all my love, this poetry!
(Wrote this to gift to my wife! Today is our wedding anniversary!)
21.04.2009
Home AT LAST!
We're home!
We're home!
Drop your bags on the floor.
Jump on the couch.
Turn on the television.
I don't care what anybody else says.
But, WE'RE HOME!
Home from the fear.
Home from the dead.
Home from the fire.
Home from the cruelty.
The horrible things.
Its no more a dream.
Your home.
Your here.
With your wife.
With your kids.
With your family.
Your home.
Maybe not in the most beautiful and expensively built place.
But its perfect.
Because everyone is here.
Everyone you've missed.
For so long.
Your home.
Once again.
And this time your to stay.
In the warmth and love.
Of your families.
Hey thanks.
For fighting for us.
We appreciate it.
Now stay home and live your dream.
Love, love, love, and LOVE.
Because.
Everyone's home.
-(;
poem by Saharah Rane
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Lover Lover Lover
I asked my father,
I said, father change my name.
The one Im using now its covered up
With fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
He said, I locked you in this body,
I meant it as a kind of trial.
You can use it for a weapon,
Or to make some woman smile.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Then let me start again, I cried,
Please let me start again,
I want a face thats fair this time,
I want a spirit that is calm.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
I never never turned aside, he said,
I never walked away.
It was you who built the temple,
It was you who covered up my face.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
And may the spirit of this song,
May it rise up pure and free.
May it be a shield for you,
A shield against the enemy.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beggar is close to God
Begging for something is a cut
That is made at the root of your ego.
Begging for food is the deepest cut.
A monk goes begging for food,
Where he feels pride, not humiliation.
A beggar knocks the door for food,
Cursing his fate, tasting the humiliation.
Ego is active in monk, dead in beggar.
Who will get quick salvation?
04.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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