Love is till marriage
Love is pronounced
when the pair is apart,
in pining of each other,
in longing for each other,
in sulking about each other,
in exchanging letters.
Literature spoke mostly this.
Wedding halts these
In a nutshell,
Love dies when pair ties.
02.12.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Longing is good
Longing is happiness
Attaining will seal it
Pining will promote it.
Tragic love never dies
25.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Every love dies
There is time
When love for mother dies,
When love for wife dies,
When love for children dies
And love for kith and world dies.
There is no time
When the love for woman dies.
That remains until you die.
24.01.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Being two is not a hindrance
You and I are two, made by love as twins,
But not as one that every lover claims.
If we are two, as someone ridicule,
Let we be so as one’s legs too are two.
Legs are two, a pair, and not separate,
But joined at base for a common purpose.
We aren’t two but a pair for a cause,
Joined by a knot like the wedding rings.
By two, legs are stable for the body.
Lovers be two to balance their affairs.
Let us remain two; let the souls walk out.
And join to keep us a pair of love.
As long as two souls are one by a knot,
Being two is not a hindrance for love.
29.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Pair Of Eyes
A pair of eyes constitutes the mass of art,
A pair of eyes, tells the throb of heart.
A pair of eyes, is a cool forest pond.
A pair of eyes, is sorcerer's wand.
A pair of eyes, mirrors the soul and mind.
A pair of eyes, thru which man we find.
A pair of eyes, sees all our deeds,
God's eyes are those, one's conscience needs.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Hate is the shadow of love
You hate a person
As you know him only half.
To love a person
Too, you had known him half.
You love and hate
The one, fully known.
The quarreling pair is the loving pair.
23.02.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Loving like a Pair of Running Shoes
Being in love is like a pair of running shoes.
When they're new,
they win you over, your
excited to use
them an showem off
Two years go by
And it's time for a new
pair of running shoes.
You may or
May not
Get the same, pair
You pray of an upgrade
Being in love
is like a pair
of running shoes.
poem by Kayla Michele
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If I Were
if i were a pair of gloves
i know you want to become a pair of hands
if i were a pair of shoes
i know you want to be a set of bare feet.
that indeed is romantic
something that fits like a dado to a joint
like thread to the eye of the needle
even though
nothing is challenging enough
like a round peg to a round hole
but baby these fittings are more of fantasies
there are more truths and realities
those that don't fit
and yet still exist together
like us.
i love you and you love me too.
against all odds.
and evens.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The dead love too feeds.
Libido is meant to release through the coitus.
Love and courtship to an extent, meet it.
But much of it is released through grief
Or in longing and pining love lost
Failure of love, too, nourishes.
29.05.2001, Berhampur
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Add me to pair.
There are you, only you,
who for I long. Tell me,
what is with me wrong?
I love you, only you,
which is not a crush.
Nor a truce, but real.
Can’t you grant my wish?
Maybe one,
someone, is in your way.
In a better way I can sway.
Heed can you pay?
Sweet and sour, one likes.
Moon and stars, one likes.
Kids and kitten, one likes.
If not sweet, be I a soar;
If not a moon, be I a star,
If not a kid, be I a kitten,
To you, dear.
Take me too, with you,
along with them.
Then I am not wrecked.
A pair of eyes,
A pair of limbs
And a pair of breasts,
all in pair you have.
Take me, to pair with the other.
I can’t retreat. Upbeat is
my heart, that will repeat,
will not subside, or recede.
Don’t put me aside.
There are you.
Only you who for I live.
Show me, please,
show me that
you lull me to trance.
17.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Loving is eating.
I love you-
Comes very common
from the lips of men.
I want to eat you-
Is what it means.
To hundreds, he told.
From hundreds, she heard.
Love dies with out eating.
17.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Loving is eating
I love you-
Comes very common
from the lips of men.
I want to eat you-
Is what it means.
To hundreds, he told.
From hundreds, she heard.
Love dies with out eating.
17.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Chappals
Missed was one out of the pair
And quite unaware was my husband
And I noticed and told him
As I am like Sita of Rama
Whose padukas are ever sacred and pristine
That Bharata even coronated them
That I could so sense the misfitted foot
That I could so sense its unholiness
Of today's youthful pairs
Mounted with dust and grime in sundry mounds
And one such somehow escaped
Possibly at a wedding function
To dirty my husband's one foot
But my chaste love got him a new pair
Which goes on emitting my shining love
Strong like Rama's padukas
Strong like Sita's imprinted feet
Wider- found stony in this country
That every heart is pleased about
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The yoked bullocks
In marital relationships,
Temptations compromise with availabilities,
Love compromises with commitments,
And looks compromise with behaviors,
Leaving the pair as a pair of yoked bullocks.
20.05.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Love
Love
More possessed than possessing
More confessed than confessing
I love you
Like a new pair of shoes
Like a pair of hands I cannot hold
Love more desired than desiring
More a balm of necessity
Than a fleeting kiss
What have I missed
In naming you?
Is this it
Love?
I love my cat
More than this
The stars are filled with bright shining souls
Who can name them?
Love
Your multiplicity illuminates the night sky
More than a love song
Love much more than this
Lovers sitting on a park bench ruminating
Under a canopy of bright golden leaves shining
Honeyed by the early morning dew
Who can love them more than this?
Love lends itself to me and you
We name and claim it for a time
And call it 'bliss'
yvette smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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A pair of Sparrows on my lovely Lemon Tree
Those were the days
So joyous and carefree
When I could watch the preening of
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
Summer days were so short, winters were so long
And for endless hours one could go on a kite flying spree
When I could watch, hopping here and there
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
Enjoying tender sunshine in winter is a past
And chapattis from an earthen hearth a history
When I could watch, assembling of a nest by
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
What seemed to be mundane at that time
Life in my backyard so ordinary
Bliss it is in hindsight, chirping of
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree
I still sometimes motivate myself
To get off the treadmill and shake the shackles free
But can’t anymore find in my back yard
That pair of sparrows and that lovely lemon tree
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree..
A pair of sparrows on my lovely lemon tree.......
30 July 09
poem by Ravi Singh
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Sounds of wedding bells
They waited sixteen long years
For the sounds of wedding bells
The wedding bells ring, dingdong, dingdong
The wedding bells sing, dingdong, dingdong
For all to hear strikingly clear
Hold your silence and wish them well
It is the sounds of wedding bells
This aged love birds have been waiting for
Once unofficial honeys
From this point declared official
In this matrimonial ceremony
I wish them well
Their braveness is my acknowledgement
Their enduring fight is my guiding light
Their victory will go down in history
Together they compliment and compliment
Each other like a perfect pair of fitting shoes
One way or another they already knew
Long before the sound of wedding bells
They would love each other till the very end
So listen to the sound of wedding bells
As they sing dingdong, dingdong
Perhaps for you it wouldn’t be long!
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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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
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Sealed With A Kiss
A pile of old letters
lay forgotten in an attic,
letters written long ago
in the bloom of someone’s youth.
They were tied with a pink ribbon
and kept preciously
by someone I do not know.
Each letter spoke of love,
the yearning of being apart,
and how good it would feel
to be home once again.
How wonderful it would be
back in loves arms again
away from a terrible war
that had to part them too quickly
shortly after their wedding day.
They spoke of plans for their future
and how their love would grow.
They would start afresh
at the beginnings of the first snow.
Each letter was sealed with a kiss
that was there for all to see.
It told the story of unbroken love
that would live on through every tragedy
and sealed with a kiss.
The last letter in the pile
was tear stained and edged in black.
It told the story
that her lover never came back.
26 March 2009
poem by David Harris
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People Who Use Love
Love and deceit,
Can not meet to greet...
Happily under one roof.
There may have been some,
Who have tried to do this.
But loyalty and devotion...
Is not a commodity to dilute.
People who use love,
As if they are exchanging...
A pair of tight fitting shoes,
Are also the ones who say they pray...
And afraid to tell the truth!
Love and deceit,
Can not meet to greet...
Happily under one roof.
And those who do it,
Are in constant conflict...
With those who refuse...
To put up with their,
Alibis and mood shifts!
To have an acceptance,
From those to approve...
As if it's okay to choose confusion too!
As if they can get away...
With whatever they do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Fine Pair We
a fine pair we
you, with lack of passion trust
I, with love balanced on edge.
could you but understand
passion, once sparked
takes on a life all its own
constantly growing and breathing love fire
like an erotic shimmering golden dragon
could I but accept
the simplicity and elegance
of your desire
because it just is.
something akin to the sun
it doesn't ever leave
it just disappears, because it must
oh yes dearest heart
a very fine pair we.
poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul
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