Mother only could cry.
He died at ninety two miserably,
Subjected to curses, humiliations,
Neglects, together with immobility.
His mother, if alive, would have wept.
26.07.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
Children’s prestige
Subjected to neglects and humiliations,
I offered to move to an old age home
Which my children vehemently opposed.
Its connotation is not love but prestige.
02.04.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Tears not the scale
As a teenage boy I wept most
When my grandmother died.
As an old man I wept least
When my own mother died.
Do tears tell the depth the grief?
Tear glands dry with the aging.
23.10.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A painful passage
I wept and wept, endlessly wept,
Like of which I have never wept
Save at the time of my mother’s death,
While some sequences I read
Off the book ‘The Blind Assassin’
Of Ms Margaret Atwild, wherein
A little girl, by name, Griffen
Watches speechless the gaze of the mother,
Who is in sick bed, the little sister
Being away at play, quite unaware,
And the mother in her feeble voice
Beseeching her to take care of her sister,
To which she assuredly nods and weeps
At the impending end of her mother,
Without thinking who is there to take
Her own care or that what is in store.
I wept and wept, endlessly wept
As the two little sisters resembled
My two granddaughters, me their mother,
As though their mother is in death bed,
With fear of death looming over my head.
I wept and wept, recurrently wept
When I read, wrote and rewrote
The above passage many a time.
27.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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What Have They Done To Me
What have they done to me
To the air that I breathe and all I see
Diseased and abused and alone
Tell me what have they done to me
They took everything I had
And crushed it all into dust
Erased all my names so I would seem
So lost
So lost
So lost
I pulled myself from my woman
To wander through the night
I'm a long, long way from emptiness
So step aside
Am I to feel alive
Am I to feel alive
Am I to feel alive
But I nearly died
Am I to see the light
Am I to see the light
But I cried
For so long
So long
What have they done to me
To the birds that sing, yeah the simple things
I held all my curses
I can't seem to rest
But it's alright
It's alright
They took from me all that one could take
My children
My loves
My orchards of tears
It's all been borrowed so we must say
They sit in the kingdom of light
And now you know how one can be
As free as one could wanna be
Cause time won't let you walk away
Time won't let you be afraid
So don't be afraid
For too long
Too long
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
But I nearly died
Am I to see the light
Am I to see the light
But I cried
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
But I'm almost home
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
But I nearly died
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
But I nearly died
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
Am I to walk alone
But I'm almost home
Yeah, I'm almost home
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
I might seem alive
But I nearly died
Yeah, I nearly died
So long
song performed by by Zwan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Agony of the old
Had I died as a lad, my parents would have wept.
Had I died as a man, my children and wife would have wept.
Had I died ere my wife, my wife would have wept.
A widower, an invalid, a cumbersome,
When I die who will have wept?
28.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Palestine is yours and mine…
Mother, Don’t Cry
Mother, dry your tears
Mother, don’t cry for me
Mother, melt your fears
Mother, now my soul is free
Mother, I’m a martyr
Against enemies I was a Fighter
Mother, our souls never live apart
Then Mother, please un-break your Heart
Mother, I hear your beats, I feel your sorrow
Mother, in the Heaven we’ll meet tomorrow
Mother, don’t hesitate
to let my brothers resist to exist,
to survive and to make Jerusalem alive…
Mother, don’t hesitate
to let them struggle for Palestine
to let them fight for the sake of ALLAH
Don’t worry Mother, soon the sun will send the shine
Truly, Palestine is yours and mine…
Palestine is yours and mine…
WithAllMyRespect
{June 12,2010}
poem by Glamorous Enigma
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Cross
My old man's a white old man
And my old mother's black.
If ever I cursed my white old man
I take my curses back.
If ever I cursed my black old mother
And wished she were in hell,
I'm sorry for that evil wish
And now I wish her well
My old man died in a fine big house.
My ma died in a shack.
I wonder were I'm going to die,
Being neither white nor black?
poem by Langston Hughes
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Buried Alive
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
I hate my life
The miracle is coming its just a hole
Nothings wrong with you, just maintain control
Everyones asking questions, your place is safe
Ill forfeit resurrection to escape the pain
I hate my life
I hate my life
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
The storm of thorns is growing
There is no end in sight
Chaos claws my jaw
Thank Metal riot
Im in the mouth of madness with this tongue of poetry
I ate the spine of atlas, now the world is crushing me
I hate my life
I hate my life
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
Buried behind enemy lines
Surrogate child for the sins of all mankind
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
For the sins of all mankind
song performed by by Otep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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15th February 2010
The glass fell down and broke into pieces,
Then i knew that something was wrong somewhere;
For yesterday was Valentine's Day and,
Your mother died on the same day.
The news came in and it made me sad,
Because your mother died on the 14th of February 2010;
But sad as it was,
She was immediately buried on the 15th!
Of the tree which was in the garden and was desirable for food,
But Valentine's Day came in and took her away;
And she is gone forever.
Oh, what has been sweet is now soar!
For you can now see the tears in my eyes;
And like the thorns and the thistles of the tree nearby.
15th February 2010,
Today i am made a citizen in a foreign land!
But your mother's death have taken the spoon out of my mouth,
And it is like sadness and joy.
Wise and knowledgeable men and women,
This news had brought tears in my eyes;
And i am now like a horse and its rider,
But on a narrow path to find my way home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Grand-Father's Clock
My grand-father's clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor;
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a penny weight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent while a boy;
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know
And to share both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,
With a blooming and beautiful bride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
My grandfather said that of those he could hire,
Not a servant so faithful he found;
For it wasted no time, and had but one desire --
At the close of each week to be wound.
And it kept in its place -- not a frown upon its face,
And its hands never hung by its side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
It rang an alarm in the dead of the night --
An alarm that for years had been dumb;
And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight --
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chime,
As we silently stood by his side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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99 Lbs
Written by: d. bryant
Twenty-five pounds of pure cane sugar
Shes got in each and every kiss
You wouldnt know what Im talking bout
If you never had a love like this
Well, I dont mean to be frank with you all
Its a natural fact
Good things come wrapped up in small, small packages now
Well you cant argue with that
Oh, oh, yeah
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul, oh, oh
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Twenty-five pounds of tenderness
She got in each and every touch
Twenty-five pounds of understanding my woman
cause I was the one running round town worrying too much
Twenty-four pounds of sunday
That I cant see, yeah
And it all adds up to ninety-nine big pounds
Oh, Im talking about a feline friend
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Humiliations
To avoid a situation
Where you’re ignored or biased,
To ensure you a position
When you don’t need to beg or plead
And to prevent an occurrence
To be a victim of circumstance
Are beyond your wish and control
And bound to cause humiliations.
Shed your ego to bear it out.
28.02.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: LVI
Who has not wept with Manon? Of all tales
That thrill youth's fancy or to tears or mirth
None other is there where such grief prevails,
Such passionate pity for the loves of Earth.
Who has not wept with Manon in her sin,
Wept in her punishment? What angry heart
Has been unmoved in youth to see her win
With those sad archers to the inhuman cart?
Who has not followed her beyond the seas,
And sold his life for her, and bowed his pride,
And sinned all sins to buy her back to ease,
And died all deaths to venge her when she died?
And I, blest boy, who each new happy night
When all was done still lived in her delight!
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Essentialness
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
There is a mood that dictates,
The essentialness of things.
When the importance of 'it' is given...
And how much of a priority is placed.
But should we wait in debate,
To enhance an effectiveness?
Or chase it with impatience,
If there is a mood that dictates.
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
And when it comes...
It brings its own taste!
A certainty not to go to waste.
And maybe subject to change!
Replacing what has been debated.
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
Like something one has eaten...
Does not meet a later craving,
One had envisioned to devour...
And let satiate without it becoming sour.
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
When discussed in the hour,
Of exchange.
Or at a later date.
Arriving when it does...
And not considered to be late!
To deliver an anticipated freshness.
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Ninety-Ninety Rule of Project Schedules - the first ninety percent of the task takes ninety percent of the time, and the last ten percent takes the other ninety percent.
quote by Arthur Bloch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother and I wept
Here is the incidence, very true of its kind and, has taken place in my life. In one place mother wept for me and in the second place I wept.Both has no bearing on each other but since it was between mother and son, I thought of it putting it to a general public for view.
I joined Indian Air Force much to the dislike of whole family. My brother was living just 120 km. away from my native place and I was just informed to report to the recruiting office for medical check up and tests. When I reached office, and much to my dismay, it was very brief and we were given clearance and instructed to report to the training centre at Bangalore.
After completion of training at Bangalore, I got posting at capital city of India, New Delhi. After brief stay at Delhi, I was given first leave to visit home town. Mother was so happy to see me alive as if I was never coming back alive to the village. But as days drew nearer and I was to go back to my unit, mother became restless and all the times she used to shed tears in the corner. One I was sleeping in the after noon and suddenly I felt that some wet thing was falling on my forehead. I got up to see that mother was whipping, and when asked, she replied that how I will be doing in the defense set up since no body had gone from our family so far. I too became emotional but still regained the composure and counseled mother. Such was deep love from mother to a son.
Mother died while I was in service. I couldn’t remain present at the funeral ceremony because it almost took 24 hours to reach home and it was custom that dead body was not to be kept beyond certain hours. She was cremated but had unfulfilled desire in her mind. So in the night, she appeared in the dream and asked promise from me not to do at least one thing in whole life. I asked 'why, mom, you want such promise' from me. She replied that as such I was not smoking in my life, so you take vow not to smoke throughout life. Even at the end of the days also, mother remembered that I was non-smoker. I wept continuously and there was no body to wipe my tears.
Both the incidences have no bearing on each other but certain things you realize when person is no more with you. It is pure love and affection that bonds you to gather and you never miss those moments when get time and memory cross your mind.
In today’s time, such warmth and feeling has disappeared altogether. We live in the changed scenario but in my belief still there may be similar cases taking place but not coming to the light.
“Mom, I love you” can only be my tributary words
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I had a cat and my lovely cat was ill
I had a cat and my lovely cat was ill
It was admitted in hospital for treatment,
Previous day it fought with a cobra to kill,
The cobra suddenly escaped to save but died,
It moves around my house to kill the snakes,
And it is just like a tiger and guards my house,
My children always play with it and feed it cakes,
Alas! why is it not recovered but died?
Dead body of my cat is put on sofa and all wept,
Why, pretty thing! could you not live with us all?
One by one all kissed it and sadly said it has slept,
If it is not seen at home tiger, tiger we used to call,
Alas1 with a bur-i-al ceremony in a grave it is kept,
All wept and wept and said, what a sweet fall!
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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Access Denied
Ofttimes enwrapt in reverie
I have a distant memory
but I cannot be sure it’s true
Of my mother who I barely knew.
She died so very long ago.
There is so much I do not know
I only know what I’ve been told
and that recedes as I grow old.
Although I try I can’t recall
her face: bring it to mind at all.
I feel I should be able to
but there is nothing I can do.
Sometimes I wake to find I’ve wept.
But I can do nothing but accept.
That time’s erased the memory
of the face I long to see.
Some faded photographs remain
which I look at, try to regain.
The memories I have repressed
It may be that it’s for best.
I was so young when mother died.
My wants and needs were satisfied.
By father and the family
and I grew up quite happily.
Would mother have been proud of me?
I she’d lived long enough to see.
The man her little boy grew into.
My mother who I barely knew.
Then I remember guiltily
my mother lost much more than me.
The grandchildren she’d never know
the chance to see her children grow.
But I still pursue selfishly
that one elusive memory.
That’s buried somewhere deep inside
A need that can’t be satisfied.
Perhaps because I’m growing old
and only have what I was told
to remember mother by.
I know I’ll fail but I still try.
24/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Forever Starts at the End (A Sonnet)
Eternal life will start in my late last.
But who knows death began ere I was born?
A christian needs to die, as it's a must,
Before he could have seen the coming morn.
The day I went out from my mother's womb,
Is just as my death anniversary.
A dead child risen from a woman's tomb,
And breathing dust that lives for vanity.
I'm now alive but died with Him; and then,
Will die to live a life, and will not die
Again of death that doubled-killed the men
Born dead, although, alive, yet passers-by...
The residents of deathless fire where dwell
Those who died dead to die a death in Hell.
poem by Ray Remalig
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Mother Died
today my mother died
unapreciated by those she bore
at her departure they cried
for they never saw there mother before,
smiling but immobile.
today my mother died
after years of taking care of us
in retrospect we were stupid
for her love we dint reciprocate
alone we are
without a mother anymore
there never will be another like her
like my mother.
a lavish funeral
an expensive casket
an expensive proceeding
and what not
can atone not
for our ingratitude
poem by Kelvin Karani
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