Marriage is to bind.
A moth has no desire for the flower he had visited.
A man has less desire for the woman he had tasted.
A moth wants its nectar. A man wants discovery.
That is why he is tied to her by marriage.
20.03.2001, pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Thats The Way Love Goes
Like a moth to a flame
Burned by the fire
My love is blind
Cant you see my desire?
Thats the way love goes
Like a moth to a flame
Burned by the fire
My love is blind
Cant you see my desire?
Like a moth to a flame
Burned by the fire
My love is blind
Cant you see my desire
Thats the way love goes
Like a moth to a flame
Burned by the fire
Thats the way love goes
My love is blind
Cant you see my desire?
Come with me
Dont you worry
Im gonna make you crazy
Ill give you the time of your life
Im gonna take you places
Youve never been before and
Youll be so happy that you came
Oooooh, Im gonna take you there
Oo-ooh hoo-ooh oo-ooh
Thats the way love goes
Hoo
Thats the way love goes
Thats the way love goes
Thats the way love goes
Dont mind if I light candles
I like to watch us play and
Baby, Ive got on what you like
Come closer
Baby closer
Reach out and feel my body
Im gonna give you all my love
Ooh sugar dont you hurry
Youve got me here all night
Just close your eyes and hold on tight
Ooh baby
Dont stop, dont stop
Go deeper
Baby deeper
You feel so good Im gonna cry
Oooooh Im gonna take your there
Oo-ooh hoo-ooh oo-ooh
Thats the way love goes
Hoo
Thats teh way love goes
Thats the way love goes it goes it goes
Oooh thats the way love goes
Reach out and feel my body
Thats the way love goes
Dontcha know
Thats the way
Like a moth to a flame
Burned by the fire
My love is blind
Cant you see my desire
Like a moth to a flame
Burned by the fire my love is blind
Cant you see my desire?
Thats the way love goes....
song performed by by Janet Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Desire
Resembling a moth around a burning paper
Is how I'm strained to you,
not capable of opposing your charm
There's not anything I can do,
and like that moth who flies too near
And sets its wing on fire,
I find I too have gone too near
because I'm burning with desire.
poem by Nikhil Chandwani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fire-Caught
The gold moth did not love him
So, gorgeous, she flew away.
But the gray moth circled the flame
Until the break of day.
And then, with wings like a dead desire,
She fell, fire-caught, into the flame.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The moth hound
Of a coon hound
you have heard
there's plenty around
i have found
a very strange dog
who's nothing, but a moth hound
when ever, you see
he sees a moth near by
the moth trys to flee,
it isn't no match
as my dog goes after the moth,
and makes a wonderful catch
he eats it all the way
and chews and swallows
he looks at me, now he wants to play
The bilateral pull
My dear!
I am all mad to hold you near.
I am sad to lose you ever.
Now and then I pay you my care.
To return it bare, you didn’t brave.
My beloved!
No day passed that I have not loved.
No week passed that I have not versed.
No month is gone, I have not emoted.
You never requited, simply stored.
My darling!
You are all the time in my noting.
No one blooms as you did, in my writing.
No one moved you as I did, in wooing.
I am doting, seemingly in vain.
My sweet!
You know, a moth in life never sulks
That the Tulip by no time beckoned
And that it never had a suck or hug.
Yet the moth is on move to gladden.
You, a fixed Sun,
I, a revolving Earth,
there is a pull between us,
the pull being not unilateral.
25.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Into it all the same.
At a distance, a flower is noted by its colour.
Once into it, the purpose of the colour is over.
Only the nectar of the flower matters.
Pleasure is drawn in churning to honey the nectar.
A wise man makes variety from his clay
rather than buying varying makes.
23.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Have And Not To Hold
To have and not to hold
So hot yet so cold
My heart is in your hand
And yet you never stand
Close enough for me
to have my way
To love but not to keep
To laugh not to weep
Your eyes they go right through
And yet you never do
Anything to make me want to stay
Like a moth to a flame
Only I am to blame
Ba ba da ba ba ba
What can I do
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I go straight to you
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I've been told
You're to have
Not to hold
To look but not to see
To kiss but never be
The object of your desire
I'm walking on a wire
And there's no one at all
To break my fall
Like a moth to a flame
Only I am to blame
Ba ba da ba ba ba
What can I do
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I go straight to you
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I've been told
You're to have
Not to hold
You're to have not to hold
You're to have not to hold
Like a moth to a flame
Only I am to blame
Ba ba da ba ba ba
What can I do
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I go straight to you
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I've been told
You're to have
Not to hold
You're to have not to hold
You're to have not to hold
You're to have not to hold
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Social is not immoral.
The woman who is cozy with you
And is disposed to give you company
Has least carnal desire to commit sex.
Her libido escapes through that path.
19.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nearness matters
It is not necessary that a woman
should be a sex appeal or a virgin,
or of some class to your desire.
Your nearness and her loneliness
can bring you both together soon.
Given time and secret moments,
The feat is accomplished in no time.
03.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Japan
Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.
It feels like eating
the same small, perfect grape
again and again.
I walk through the house reciting it
and leave its letters falling
through the air of every room.
I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.
I say it in front of a painting of the sea.
I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.
I listen to myself saying it,
then I say it without listening,
then I hear it without saying it.
And when the dog looks up at me,
I kneel down on the floor
and whisper it into each of his long white ears.
It's the one about the one-ton temple bell
with the moth sleeping on its surface,
and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating
pressure of the moth
on the surface of the iron bell.
When I say it at the window,
the bell is the world
and I am the moth resting there.
When I say it at the mirror,
I am the heavy bell
and the moth is life with its papery wings.
And later, when I say it to you in the dark,
you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you,
and the moth has flown
from its line
and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.
poem by Billy Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Well and river, inequitable.
A bath in a river is soothing to your skin.
But the river cannot replace the well.
From well water, you sooth your throat.
So the well has no reason to fear the river.
The one who swims in a river
Returns home with renewed vigour.
His desire to swim in the river
Is not his hate to draw from the well.
No grace will the well lose
Because his master visited the river.
No shame does the river has
Because her visitor is not her master.
One will not desert one’s wife
Because the one courted a tart.
24.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Modern Beauty
I am the torch, she saith, and what to me
If the moth die of me? I am the flame
Of Beauty, and I burn that all may see
Beauty, and I have neither joy nor shame.
But live with that clear light of perfect fire
Which is to men the death of their desire.
I am Yseult and Helen, I have seen
Troy burn, and the most loving knight lies dead.
The world has been my mirror, time has been
My breath upon the glass; and men have said,
Age after age, in rapture and despair,
Love's poor few words, before my image there.
I live, and am immortal; in my eyes
The sorrow of the world, and on my lips
The joy of life, mingle to make me wise;
Yet now the day is darkened with eclipse:
Who is there lives for beauty? Still am I
The torch, but where's the moth that still dares die?
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Ever Open Door
Desire to live, love and dream
Desire to desire more
Desire is the flirtiest whim
It's an ever open door.
Desire to touch you once
Desire to break into a dance
Desire to hold your hand
Desire to build on sand!
It's an ever open door
You desire and desire more!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One’s joy is not as you suppose
The Pilot loathes flying
And the chauffeur, driving.
Anything as occupation
Loses its thrill.
No desire exists
Where it is a routine.
28.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In White
A dented spider like a snow drop white
On a white Heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of lifeless satin cloth -
Saw ever curious eye so strange a sight? -
Portent in little, assorted death and blight
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth? -
The beady spider, the flower like a froth,
And the moth carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The blue prunella every child's delight.
What brought the kindred spider to that height?
(Make we no thesis of the miller's plight.)
What but design of darkness and of night?
Design, design! Do I use the word aright?
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Floridian
The cactus and the aloe bloom
Beneath the window of your room;
Your window where, at evenfall,
Beneath the twilight's first pale star,
You linger, tall and spiritual,
And hearken my guitar.
It is the hour
When every flower
Is wooed by moth or bee
Would, would you were the flower, dear,
And I the moth to draw you near,
To draw you near to me,
My dear,
To draw you near to me.
II.
The jasmine and bignonia spill
Their balm around your windowsill;
The sill where, when magnolia-white,
In foliage mists, the moon hangs far,
You lean with bright deep eyes of night
And hearken my guitar.
It is the hour
When from each flower
The wind woos fragrances
Would, would you were the flower, love,
And I the wind to breathe above,
To breathe above and kiss,
My love,
To breathe above and kiss.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Moth-Signal (On Egdon Heath)
'What are you still, still thinking,
He asked in vague surmise,
'That you stare at the wick unblinking
With those great lost luminous eyes?'
'O, I see a poor moth burning
In the candle-flame,' said she,
'Its wings and legs are turning
To a cinder rapidly.'
'Moths fly in from the heather,'
He said, 'now the days decline.'
'I know,' said she. 'The weather,
I hope, will at last be fine.
'I think,' she added lightly,
'I'll look out at the door.
The ring the moon wears nightly,
May be visible now no more.
She rose, and, little heeding,
Her husband then went on
With his attentive reading
In the annals of ages gone.
Outside the house a figure
Came from the tumulus near,
And speedily waxed bigger,
And clasped and called her Dear.
'I saw the pale-winged token
You sent through the crack,' sighed she.
'That moth is burnt and broken
With which you lured out me.
'And were I as the moth is
It might be better far
For one whose marriage troth is
Shattered as potsherds are!'
Then grinned the Ancient Briton
From the tumulus treed with pine:
'So, hearts are thwartly smitten
In these days as in mine!'
poem by Thomas Hardy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Question To My Lover
what is it that i
desire really from you?
is it your body?
is it your wisdom?
is it your time?
is it your concern?
i have tasted
every skin of your body
i have taken much
of your time
i have listened from
your wisdom
i have much of your
care
and yet i am still
empty
i have consumed you
like bread and
have drunk you like
a glass of wine
yet there is still something
that i desire from you
and yet i still do not know
or is it that it is not
really you that i desire
but someone else?
and how many more?
yes how many more
shall i waste and yet find
no answer?
will you finally kill me at
the end of this
betrayal?
what is it that i desire?
self, tell me now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Design
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth --
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth --
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Erotomania-A Delusion of Love
A moth or an innocent boy
Or incessantly talking toy
Caught helplessly
In a nature’s ploy:
Thought flame loves me
Thought dame thinks of me
Thought ma’am cares for me.
All the while
The flame
with a flickering smile
burning in a opaque
lamp of guile
with a global
all devouring vision
and feeding with oil of treason
Saw a moth adamant on
self sacrificing mission
The hypnotized moth
went near
a flame with glee
and made love making
earnest plea
And the cunning flame
Gladly reply
Yeah.
Flame knew moth had
Erotomania- A delusion of love
Soon he would be devoured
As hyena devours dove
Then,
Alluring flame-an enticing threat
Beckoned him for a embraced great
Then licking the moth with
A tongue of death
She sucked away
His laboring breath.
Lo! Comes
One more moth
on the trot,
Attired in a martyr’s coat,
Burning in a heartrending
passions hot,
Bubbling like a
love stewed broth;
Trying to cross
A death filled moat
In a love tiled
porous boat,
While vainly trying
to remain afloat
The hypnotized moth
went near
the flame with glee
and made love making's
earnest plea
And the cunning flame
Gladly reply
Yeah!
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
11/12/2008
poem by Hitesh Sheth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!