Mangal sutra
Thali-that rests on the bosom of woman
Is the ensign of fidelity.
It bridles the mare when away from the horse,
A powerful weapon handed down by the heritage.
05.12.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Preserve Family
Man will put his trust in woman
For an exchange of fidelity.
Breach of fidelity amounts
To the forfeiting the trust of his
Restraints of sexual impulses
Are the outcome of fidelity.
Restraints of evil tendencies
Are the result of trustworthiness.
Trust is wider than fidelity.
A part of the trust is fidelity.
In spite of infidelity,
Trustworthiness can be still there.
Marriage is built on mutual trust.
Fail marks in one of the subjects
Should not warrant total dismissal.
Be that field improved or overlooked.
A man tends to flirt with other women
And still stands by his own woman.
A woman who responds to men’s lure
Can still be loyal to her husband.
Man’s disloyalty doesn’t hurt
Woman as much as woman’s does.
It is more from his possessiveness.
It is more from his assertiveness.
Love and trust travel beyond sex.
Wife’s status is husband’s status.
Child’s status id parents status.
Identity will take care of trust.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lovely To His Eyes (Hybridanelle)
A farmer walks up to his horse and it is spring again
in the distance there’s ploughing red Massy Ferguson tractor
and he bridles the horse and there is pain
His son is out there tracking the field
seems young, vital and strong
and it’s as if he has now got to yield
and the earth is soft underfoot after the rain.
and he’s still the administrator.
A farmer walks up to his horse and it is spring again
and he still has some power to wield
and his eyes measure the ploughed field, the smell of fresh earth,
seems young, vital and strong
and he wonders how many years still remain
but the ache reminds him of the words of the doctor
and he bridles the horse and there is pain
that surrounds him, almost like a token of new birth
and the ardent Arabic horse knows its master well
and his eyes measure the ploughed field, the smell of fresh earth
and stretched out lies the farm that he has to maintain
and on the house’s thatched roof gleams the lightening conductor.
A farmer walks up to his horse and it is spring again
and he horse acts with love, as if under his spell
and life is really great under the sun, wind and sky
and the ardent Arabic horse knows its master well
and from riding horses he have got to abstain,
but he keeps his face pleasant like that of an actor
and he bridles the horse and there is pain
everything is familiar like any other day, where he is saddled high
and he feels full of spirit
and life is really great under the sun, wind and sky
the farm stretches out lovely to his eyes without a stain
and he rides to the chicken coop and the incubator.
A farmer walks up to his horse and it is spring again
and he bridles the horse and there is pain
and probably soon his only child will inherit.
His son is out there tracking the field
and he feels full of spirit
and it’s as if he has now got to yield.
poem by Gert Strydom

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
High Horse
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
And get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Moonlit shadow, she starts a trippin' firelight
Jumpin' the trees lyin' across the right of way
Silvery mornin' it glistens down the valley
But she don't stop 'til we ride the night away
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Blonde braids tangle at the misty break of mornin'
Catchin' light through a dusty window pane
Lost in lust, in denial of the warnin'
She digs her heels in this stallion's flank again
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Meaning Of Fidelity
Fidelity is filled with eagerness and passion,
Fidelity is deeper than any emotion,
Fidelity is full of trust and compassion,
And is filled with a keen devotion.
Fidelity is filled with eagerness and passion,
Fidelity is a state of faithfulness from the heart,
Fidelity is an adherence to a special cause
And its' sworn vows will never part.
Fidelity is filled with eagerness and passion,
Fidelity is an allegiance bound to stand,
Fidelity is part of a Nation's domain,
And is steadfast throughout the land.
Fidelity is filled with eagerness and passion,
Fidelity is full of piety and ultimate care,
Fidelity is filled with an intense sense of duty,
And is like soothing music in the air.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The power of female
A farm horse is drawn to a farm mare.
A race horse too will be
Averse not to a farm mare.
Such is the power of the female.
03.03.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The grooming is the beauty.
A well groomed ass
Is nicer than a neglected horse
A well groomed lass,
regardless of her figure,
looks lustrous even to the elite.
Give a girl a good education
In good background.
She will have been a groomed mare.
02.06.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Powerful Woman
The powerful woman does not raise her voice
She does not tell you what to do
She does not ask you for favors
She weeds her own garden
She tends to her chores
She listens to your woes
She shows you how to make jello
She tenderly prunes the tomato plant
The powerful woman moans when her own child dies
But she goes on, tending to her chores
The powerful woman lends shelter
Whether it be a bird with broken wing
Or a young man lost
The powerful woman has no face
She has no name anyone has heard before
The is an image, a memory, a shining light
Glowing through a stained glass window.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fidelity Is Lost!
The truth value of the self,
Isolates the evils,
With Fidelity, -the fence.
The apparent world,
Rests on some fidelities rooms,
As the sea, hill, and the sky.
Man erects Fidelity to rebuild the self,
Of the nothingness that abounds,
In ambitions’ race to corruption’s home.
His nowhere is the easy –compromise,
With the effacing of the fence,
Then the evil within with evil without,
Mingle and dance!
poem by Bazi alis Subrata Ray

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
2.22 Woman & Home
A home not of bricks or just man be,
An army of men - an encampment to see,
It takes woman and her sincerity,
To make a home and fill it with glee.
[124] - 2
So the women in all the societies,
Be the cause of happiness truly,
And their minds ever reflect clearly,
Happiness - progress with security.
[125] - 2
Happiness from homes shall but flee,
Where but drained be the chastity,
Sex and morals with appalling laxity,
With no value in virtue or fidelity.
[126] - 2
Sacrificing for all be the trump clearly,
Not materialism or commercial beauty,
Woman - around who rests the family,
Provides the pillar of profound unity.
[127] - 2
On her happiness depends prosperity,
Holding the highest place in society,
The woman at home will ever but be,
The creator, destroyer - the power to see.
[128] - 2
poem by Munnan Misra

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Either one is missing.
A woman in purdha much blushes,
Her heart wet with shyness.
Easy to you tempt but hard to get.
A woman in public blushes less,
Her heart seasoned with men.
Easy to befriend but hard to tempt.
In both ways you go empty handed.
04.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Religious War
Religious war has been fought by rare person
person fighting for religion is ever winner
only the person took the help of weapons
are defeated, History is witness in weapon war
only the powerful weapons are winner, but
that can not be termed as Religious War
Weapon War is always blind but religious war
is always full of love and peace.
Weapon war is the matter of ego
Religious war is the matter of consciousness
Weapon war sheds blood but Religious War
It sheds love and affection
A person fighting for Religious War has to be
martyr some time but he becomes the reason
to be worshiped for ever
Weapon war spreads chaos and terrorism
Religious War spreads prosperity
Weapon war knows to split the society
Religious War knows to unite the society
Weapon war knows to enslave the human being
Religious War knows to make him free
from all kinds of slavery
Weapon war pushes us back to barbaric age
Religious war pulls us forward to civilized age.
Weapon war ends with destruction
Religious war ends with creation
Religion is the law of nature
which prevails all to be survived
poem by Ramesh Rai

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fidelity is too strong a bond.
No quarrel is threatening
Between a husband and a wife,
No matter its depth and length,
Provided it is not for fidelity.
08.12.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oh Yes I Love My Horse
Oh yes I love my horse,
and my horse she doth love me.
Riding o'er the countryside,
beneath me my trusty steed.
We ride fast through sunny days,
for my little mare always enjoys to play.
She may buck and she may rear,
but never has anything been so dear;
As the horse I cherish,
and know oneday shall perish.
I enjoy each moment that we get,
always pulling gently on her bit.
For my horse is my kin,
not to be purchased by any bid.
For as a young girl I slept by her side,
willing to battle any that would cut our tie.
So for now we frolick merrily,
each day together a special rarity.
Until the day the good Lord calls her up,
and I must find solace in her son.
poem by Kayla Lonkard

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What is a Horse?
What is a horse?
A horse has eyes as dainty as a mink.
The grace is interrupted merely by a blink.
A horse is beauty.
What is a horse?
A horse is a tree in a storm that never goes down.
A horse is a weathered rock that stays around.
A horse is ancient.
What is a horse?
A horse waltzes like breeze over rivers.
She curvets and leaps like rain shivers.
A horse is a marionette.
What is a horse?
A horse is determination, that never stops flowing.
A horse is fondness, that never stops growing.
A horse is poetic power.
poem by Lily Whittaker

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Get Wet Because Im Dry
It’s cold and dark everywhere
The clouds kissed the mountains near
The hungry rivers are shouting and swelling
Help! The grassland is drowning
The dampen bird ceased to fly
An old horse prayed to calm the sky
In the other end, there’s the disgusted mare
The frog’s endless cry she claimed to beauty is bare
The angry thunder in heavens begun to roar
But the lighting is quick and warned to moor
To the overly drunk trees in the forest
Hold tight the dampen bird to your chest!
The night falls but of no distinction
The day’s sun is as dark as the midnight moon
But in the gloom, a circle of light appeared
It’s from a hungry feline’s eyes dazzled red
Hours, days, nights, weeks, birds, frogs, horse passed
Oh dear, the torment has ultimately stopped
The dampen birds found hope and start to hop
The old horse hugs the mare and slashes the loop
Sadly, no singing frog welcomed the new day
Because the hungry cat ended his song instantly
And the mare slept well all that night
The next morning is a goodbye to the bird’s faraway flight.
poem by Ayi Escalona

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Weapons of Mass Destruction
The Holy Roman Empire and Alexander The Great
Exterminate the globe, with extreme prejudice,
A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The European Inquisition, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The Holy Christian Crusades, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The Manifest Destiny and land expansion, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
Globalization and commercialization of the many rain forests,
A Weapon of Mass Destruction
Comprehensive sanctions is economic violence,
A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The procreation of religion and God, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
Democratizing the whole world, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The extermination of The Iroquois Confederation, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
World domination the salvation of, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
War, is the greatest Weapon of Mass Destruction
The justification for annihilation of, The Constitution
The constitution of retribution, the absolution of, A Weapon of Mass Destruction.
poem by Josephine DixonBanks

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Just A Horse
I am just a horse
I have no dreams I have no choice
I'm mad I'm sad I can rejoice
Yet still I have
No voice
Revere me regard me discard me
The greenest field the killing pen
I never know just how or when
I'll live or die or
Speak again
Love me respect me dissect me
I'll be your friend or someone's steak
Or pay the debts on bets you make
Whatever I have you
Will take
In the end I'm still a horse
And my fate is not my own
Of course
The More You Pay
The auctioneer said, I'm not through yet,
Here's a horse the likes of which you've never seen,
And the straw hats in the sun, with a face beneath each one,
Shown doubtful and the auctioneer got mean.
Do you think that you can find a horse like this every day?
I don't think there's any better on this earth,
And the more you pay, the more it's worth.
Then out she came, a snow-white mare,
Prancin' and a dancin' in the silver sun,
They watched her from behind, as she did her bump and grind,
Walkin' naked, sad and graceful for their fun.
Oh how I wished I could afford that lady painted white,
A queen with high nobility of birth,
But the more you pay, the more it's worth.
My pockets hung with empty blues,
Silent heels were standin' on my growin' pains,
My bid was not too bad, two bits was all I had,
And the stable boy just handed me the reins.
Well the gallery went wild, and the auctioneer half smiled,
What we don't sell we shoot or give away,
'Cause the more you pay, the more it's worth.
And where was the boy, who rode on her back,
With his arms holding tight round her neck?
How tightly he clung,
When they both were young,
And fate had not let this poor girl be so
Disgraced.
song performed by by Don McLean

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Horse Draws Man a Cow
'Stupid Cow! ' prospective mother in law hissed
Princess Bride, shimmering 'Old Horse', and giggled
Banishing each other to their hindly quarters
Loving Colt today also a dashing groom hoofed, in bridles
Old Horse to bridled colt, yelling across the lawn
'I taste it! The grass is greener on the other siiiiiide...! '
Stupid Cow fuming, stamping Old Horse's pawn
'That Old Horse can now gallop home! - Go on for a ride! '
Dashing groom huffing, nervous and perplexed
Spectators murmuring behind powdery carnations
Maids exchanging glances perturbed, stupid cow vexed
Uncle Colin eyeing Glenda's mocha rum fondants,
Huffing, perplexed groom accompanied by bestman
An entourage of suited jockeys behind them
Pleading, whispering that it was 'Stupid Cow's day, hun'
As Old Horse neighed all the way home
Four years on, still divided, Stupid Cow and Old Horse
Both sides stubborn in their quarters to concede
That his grass is still green with the cow and colt-calves
That the Old Horse has a love needed by the new cross breed
050108
poem by Sylvi Sylva

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Horse Racing Legend
Along comes a horse
So powerful and sleek
He runs with his heart
Not his feet.
The heart of a champion
Is what this horse has
The looks of eagles in his eyes
Just as
He runs and runs with all his heart
While the crowd is awed with his amazing arts
He crosses the wire in first
And becomes a legend, know
In a time of need
This horse has shown power
He shows no fear
At the passing hour
From a broken-down claimer,
To a racer with heart
This horse has become
A Legend, no doubt
We all lose a few
But it doesn't matter much
If your a horse like this
With spirit and punch.
poem by Hannah Branz

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!