God is the manager
One became rich. God has blessed Him.
One went bankrupt. God has cursed Him.
God has two faces to perform His deeds.
He gets from some and gives to some.
25.07.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Blessed To Be Cursed
I awaken early,
With thoughts that seem...
Already out of date.
Already out of time.
Already...
I feel I am too late.
Bombarded I am,
With images that feed.
And some I feel,
I am not yet ready to taste.
Am I cursed or blessed?
At times I feel in between.
And aging hasn't made this attraction,
Any easier for me...
It seems.
Am I cursed or blessed?
OR blessed to be cursed?
Is it possible to enjoy something,
And not quench that thirst?
I awaken early,
With thoughts that seem...
Already out of date.
Already out of time.
Already...
I feel I am too late.
Bombarded I am,
With images that feed.
And some I feel,
I am not yet ready to taste...
Although I enjoy,
Achieving those impossible dreams.
Am I cursed or blessed?
OR blessed to be cursed?
Is it possible to enjoy something,
And not quench that thirst?
And I think to myself...
'What am I getting out of this?
How am I benefitting,
When I am the last to think of myself first! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The voice and the face
In many female singers
I loved them imagining their faces
Till I came to know their faces.
Then I separated their voice
From their faces to love.
Anuradha Sriram is an exception.
08.04.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My In-Laws Were Outlaws
this is a true story -the story of inlaws deciding a marriage was over -inlaw interference between two people who loved each other immensely. It is a sad story becuase i doubt anyone was happy in the long run- My ex remarried but divorced again-so heres to Long Beach California lousy In-Laws-I wont say your name but u live on Los Coyotes Drive hahaha
You came to our wedding and
blessed it!
You came to my college graduation and
blessed it!
You gave me gifts
You gave me warmth
A few years passed
and I found out you were phony
Full of crap
and balony
You talked about me
behind my back
You blamed me
for any problems
in our marriage
And cursed it
You plotted and schemed
about how
to destroy it
and cursed it
Ohhhh cause My In-laws Were Outlaws
Wanted by no one
Filled with greed
Destreoyed by hate
cause My In-laws Were Outlaws
Controlling their children
interferring with their marriages
Forcing their will
Cause My In-Laws Were Outlaws
Flaunting their money
Ignoring our love
Forgetting who else blessed
our marriage
from above!
(twice)
Ohhhh My in-Laws Were Outlaws
poem by Rich Young
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Hod Putt
Here I lie close to the grave
Of Old Bill Piersol,
Who grew rich trading with the indians, and who
Afterwards took the bankrupt law
And emergeed from it richer than ever.
Myself grown tired of toil and poverty
And beholding how Old Bill and others grew in wealth,
Robbed a traveler one night near Proctor's Grove,
Killing him unwittingly while doing so,
For the which I was tried and hanged.
That was my way of going into bankruptcy.
Now we who took the bankrupt law in our respective ways
Sleep peacefully side by side.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Be Hopeful
Hopeful
Be hopeful
Want to be successful
Saw good seeds
For we are cursed and blessed
By our own deeds
Being hopeful is to over come
And encouragement
Becomes our strength
For what we could become here
Unless we over come our fear
The wind blowing
Here and there
Life becomes so unfair
All you need to do
Is to be hopeful
Hopeful
Be hopeful
poem by Matt Ancient
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With A Demanding Of Credit To Be Given
There are those,
Who wish NOT to be given credit...
For those deeds they did not do.
Even though they may have provided,
The motivation.
And there are those,
Who wish to take credit...
For deeds they did not do.
And will make claims,
They were instrumental...
In getting those deeds done.
With a demanding of credit to be given,
To them!
Just for their association of knowing 'who'
Has perform those tasks.
With a customary delivery of much embellishment.
They wish to get,
What they so richly do not deserve.
An attention that is mentioned.
With a spotlighting done on their lack of skill.
And an absence of talent...
Believed is their right to steal.
And today...
These thieves seem to be everywhere.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An upright soul
Thoughts must conform to words
And words to deeds to give peace.
Good thoughts and bad words: one is
raw.
Bad thoughts and good words: one is a cheat.
Good words and bad deeds: one is
cruel.
Bad words and good deeds: one is a
barker.
Thoughts, words and deeds must not
be
In conflicts to ensure an upright soul.
25.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The use of a face
She strived hard to have a face.
With that she brought in many faces.
With her face standing in her way,
She pained to send out those faces
30.05.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Evolution is a bankrupt speculative philosophy, not a scientific fact. Only a spiritually bankrupt society could ever believe it. Only atheists could accept this Satanic theory.
quote by Jimmy Swaggart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Crown Of Life
THE days, the doubts, the dreams of pain
Are over, not to come again,
And from the menace of the night
Has dawned the day-star of delight:
My baby lies against me pressed--
Thus, Mother of God, are mothers blessed!
His little head upon my arm,
His little body soft and warm,
His little feet that cannot stand
Held in the heart of this, my hand.
His little mouth close on my breast--
Thus, Mary's Son, are mothers blessed.
All dreams of deeds, all deeds of day
Are very faint and far away,
Yet you some day will stand upright
And fight God's foes, in manhood's might,
You--tiny, worshipped, clasped, caressed--
Thus, Mother of God, are mothers blessed.
Whatever grief may come to be
This hour divine goes on for me.
All glorious is my little span,
Since I, like God, have made a man,
A little image of God's best--
Thus, Mary's Son, are mothers blessed.
Come change, come loss, come worlds of tears,
Come endless chain of empty years;
They cannot take away the hour
That gives me You--my bird, my flower!
Thank God for this! Leave God the rest!--
Thus, Mother of God, are mothers blessed.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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I Know What You Know
I know what you know
I am not inferior to you.
Do not look down on me
We are all homosapiens.
Divinely created as God's image
God rates us all equally.
I have sights like you
I walk like you
I think like you.
I may be black,
I may be white,
I may be coloured,
I may even be red
I am God's creation
My senses are the same like
Differences in skin pigmention
Does not make me inferior
We are the same
So, deal with me on what I know
So, deal with jewels inside me
Relate with me on my knowledge
Deal with me according to my capacity
I will reciprocate the same
We are bound to respect each other
I am not cursed
My generation is not cursed
My land is not cursed
I am endowed like you
My ancestors land is blessed
I know what you know
I am not inferior to you
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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Medicaid is essentially bankrupt, Medicare is essentially bankrupt, why the heck would we give the federal government another entitlement program to manage?
quote by Timothy Pawlenty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perform good deeds; you will not regret them.
The Builders
Who knows what loss do we meet,
When spend moments of the life spoilingly,
And lazily surfeit the mouth of lust,
Turning back to the pure deeds of purity,
The curtain was raised for moments a few,
And I was shown the toiling busy hands,
Whose movements are attached to our deeds,
And was led to the world of sandy soil,
Uneven humps stretched beyond the sight,
Plains unvegetated, or without forest green,
Neither light nor darkness prevailed the zone.
A region was specified for the work of construction,
The fresh dug earth laid long in heaps,
Along the trenches of foundations deep,
Some half erect buildings I did see,
The rooms roofless, the yards wide open,
With no walls around, confining the lawns.
A team of laborers I did find resting,
Sitting alert in rows straight and long,
Besides them laid their shovels and pikes,
I was disclosed the mind baffling mystery,
“They are The Builders, move their hands,
When we perform the blessed living deeds,
And they take rest when humanity sleeps”.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Trinity Of Carnatic Music 2-Muthuswamy Dhikshitar
Blessed Yogi when blessed
Blessed was your cognizant mastery
To be blessed from the sacred depths
Devi Ganga to treasure you with Rama-Veena
Blessed later when the Lord of Tiruttani
Blessed was 'you' with your vibhakti kritis
To be blessed from the heavenly treasury
'GuruGuha' to treasure you in bouffant compendium
Blessed your sanskrit lexicon when blessed
Blessed Navavarna kritis blossomed in stacks
To be blessed then planetary nine in seven talas
Extended seventy two Kartas issuing varieties aplenty
Blessed your peripatetic journey when blessed
Blessed Amrithavarshini pattered driving drought
To be blessed you then to sing to Madurai Meenakshi
'Meenalochani Pasamochani'to board you of Her abode
Blessed scholar with blessed knowledge
Blessed verbarian, blessed musician
To be blessed is we O'Guru, by your soul
Devis and deities from your resort of music
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Prayers of parents make a peaceful heaven to a home
Prayers of parents make a peaceful heaven to a home
The children who neglect their parents will be cursed,
The Nature makes such children’s house a hellish dome,
They are lucky children who are blessed by their parents,
It is said that there is a heaven under the legs of mother,
The children love or not to their mother but she loves all,
She embraces good or bad children but she can’t smother,
Mother is habituated to pray to God for all their happiness,
A few children won’t love their parents but love their wives,
In old age parents are in need of only their children’s love,
Who devote God, adore parents will be happy in their lives,
Love of parents always comes to children from the sky above,
God bless those children who are blessed by their parents,
And God curse those children who are cursed by their parents.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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The Nightingale
sweet solitude, silent and soulful,
The nightingale swooning to its own melancholy overtures,
a rustle of leaves, the squirell hoarding for the winter break,
The wooded glaze beyond sings to natures hauntingly beautiful tune.
Nature isn't party to the tough times man faces,
It is a gift all year round that even the poorest souls can afford,
All it asks is that we care for it like we do for our own,
The heavenly child, vulnerable, frightened and merely mortal,
Natures beauty isnt eternal, but we need to act as one to help it survive,
A morally corrupt and bankrupt society,
seeping into everything we hold dear and making it rotton,
If we all unite, we can secure the future for our blessed children.
The nightingale will sing again.....
poem by Simon Thorpe
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H's Soul
I wonder what happened to Hitler's Soul
As children cursed it around the world
At breakfast tables, under hidden floors
And at the oven doors
Lovers cursed it in their ecstasy throes
Soldiers cursed it, spitting on their boots
Marching in life and death parades
As their mothers cursed him too
Begging his Soul to be damned in Hell
Consigned with Generals that cursed it well
Where did it go, that very special Soul
Was there a space, a prison cell
Padded by the silence of his screams
That echo in our darkest dreams?
poem by Frank Bana
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