Mother’s care
In spite of wealth and kith,
An old man is not secure
As to how he would meet with death.
Better to die young in mother’s care.
10.01.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truth Of Life!
Oh! The great death, the grand gift of life
Knows not the young or old, rich or poor
Visits all, acts as double edged knife
Can take the body, soul never!
None desires death, but that death spares none
For the good or bad, read or unread
Death brings pain and grief, sure gives not fun
None on earth wants death, that comes unsaid!
Man with wealth ever in fear of death
Men sans wealth with love for kith and kin
All in constant fear and worry
Over death none has control any!
Truth of life is certainty of death
Do thy duty, face death bold on earth!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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Faith and Trust
With a wife not worth your faith
And children not fit your trust,
You are sick in spite of health
And poor in spite of wealth.
(26.01.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The kith and the kin.
Kith and kin are the wall
I keep drawing my image on.
Kith and kin are the army
I build to show them as my strength.
Kith and kin are the scale
With which I scale me against them.
Kith and kin are the yard
Where I weed off the useless ones.
As a part of kith and kin,
I serve them like that as well.
12.09.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yet I Am A Mother
18years is all I am and yet I am a mother
A mother so young
A mother so immature
A mother who can't take care of the responsibilities
But yet I am a mother
A mother who bergs from parents when she's in need
But what was I doing not thinking about the consequences of my action leaving todays and not tomorrow's satisfaction.
One visit to his house and now I am a mother
A mother so young
A mother still in school
A mother so immature.
poem by Nomusa Promise Ndimande
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I still need a mother
I need a mother who would love me
I need a mother who would take care of me
I need a mother who would understand me
I need a mother for who I am
I need a mother to know me
I need a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would not yell at her son
I need a mother who won't push her son away
I need a mother who would not throw me out of her life
Even though I still need a mother
Everyday I try to be nice
Sometime she don't care about me
What I need is a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would watch me grow
I need a mother who would celebrate my birthday
I need a mother who would miss me
I need a mother to cry on
I need a mother to know that her son loves her
But she won't let me know her
What I need is a mother
Who is no more now.
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
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I still need a mother
I need a mother who would love me
I need a mother who would take care of me
I need a mother who would understand me
I need a mother for who I am
I need a mother to know me
I need a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would not yell at her son
I need a mother who won't push her son away
I need a mother who would not throw me out of her life
Even though I still need a mother
Everyday I try to be nice
Sometime she don't care about me
What I need is a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would watch me grow
I need a mother who would celebrate my birthday
I need a mother who would miss me
I need a mother to cry on
I need a mother to know that her son loves her
But she won't let me know her
What I need is a mother
Who is no more now.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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You Are The Mother Beneath Our Wings Dedicated to my mother who thought she had nothing to give-but gave the wisest things!
You are the mother beneath our wings, born into poverty brought us the
wealth of many kings, When you art young and don't have anything, you rely on
your Mother to give you everything, For a poor mother who had nothing you gave the
wisest things, You are the Mother beneath our wings.
Being poor was a rich experience for us and heartbreaking for you
You planted many seeds and nourished your ten kids needs
You gave us the wealth of may kings-coming from poverty taught us many things
The way you loved your life, being the kissin' bandit's wife
We were dirt poor, but it wasn't all bad
If material wealth as all we had-We wouldn't appreciate life and be thankful for what
we have. What you gave was unique, prized above material things
To each child special gifts you did bring
We were never too poor to give something-when you think you can't give nothing
You van give the wisest things-The love you gave will be treasured more than anything
When the trumpet blows and you rise up to meet your king
REMEMBER the lilies blooming in spring and that you gave your best in EVERYTHING!
poem by Miriam McKee
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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To become rich
Knowledge is wealth.
Labour is wealth.
Courage is wealth.
Anyone can become wealthy.
30.06.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The problematic child
Necessity is the mother of invention,
People say. Then we can say like that:
Wealth is the mother of comforts,
And poverty, of meanness.
Wealth is the mother of indolence too.
So is poverty, of viciousness.
Wealth and poverty near by
Deliver discontent,
Which is a problematic child.
04.01.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Trifler
Death's the lover that I'd be taking;
Wild and fickle and fierce is he.
Small's his care if my heart be breaking-
Gay young Death would have none of me.
Hear them clack of my haste to greet him!
No one other my mouth had kissed.
I had dressed me in silk to meet him-
False young Death would not hold the tryst.
Slow's the blood that was quick and stormy,
Smooth and cold is the bridal bed;
I must wait till he whistles for me-
Proud young Death would not turn his head.
I must wait till my breast is wilted.
I must wait till my back is bowed,
I must rock in the corner, jilted-
Death went galloping down the road.
Gone's my heart with a trifling rover.
Fine he was in the game he played-
Kissed, and promised, and threw me over,
And rode away with a prettier maid.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Illicit father is never loved
Her neighbour was dead and she shed no tears
As must be beholden to in spite of
His care and concern lavished on her
For she found him her mother’s paramour.
You cannot please one whose mother you lust.
04.09.2003
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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(Mother poems) To his mother the kitchen meit
Mother, Mother
D'you see that there
Beer hall
I don't want to go there
Mother, mother
Do you see those there boys and girls
Into that abandoned house they go
To make babies as if baby making
Is going out of fashion
Protect me mother I don't
Want to run with the wrong crowd
Mother, mother
Do you see that man
He carries death
In the bulging bag slung casually on his
Broad shoulders
He sells drugs and illicit booze
Stand close to me mum I don't want
To fall into the clutches of the bootleggers
And the merchants of death the drug lords
Mother, mother
Do you see that inviting
Jail house
Be with me mother
Give me the tons of your love
I don't want to miss you in jail
Mother, mother
Do you see that silent cemetery
Stand by my side mother
For I am scarred
And the cemetery is so silent
So discouraging for those who don't
Want to die young
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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When My Mother Was Away
When my mother was away
She left me without saying goodbye
She left me to great beyond
In this lonely wicked world
How would I survive
The demand of mother earth that asked of much from none
Oh! Mother, my dream of better tomorrow
My care not in worry
For always she is there
To meet the demand of mother nature
Not to worry her word of consolation always
Her remark for the demand of mother earth.
I lost my mood, my care and my future
I lost all a sweet mother could offer her child
My mother left memory of yesterday for my future
Oh! Mother, a paradise lost never to regain.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Meet My Despair
Meet my despair,
She doesn't even show signs of care.
She knows she'll be my destruction,
That's the meaning behind her construction.
Meet my despair,
You can taste the foul death in the air.
She smirks at the cause of my untimly death,
It makes her lose her frigid breath.
Meet my despair,
She's my burden to bear.
She'll dance on my grave,
Ah, she's so brave.
Meet my despair,
her name's.357 magnum.
She's truly lovely.
She's truly mine,
My despair.
poem by Steven Elsner
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A Death Of A Women
a death of a women is a lost for us
a lost of a great personality
a lost of some one special
a lost of a mother n a loving sister
a lost of a great wealth
a death of a women is full of cries
a death of a protected shield
a death of a key of paradise
a death of a trainer;
a taker carer
a death of a women,
is a death of our heaven
a death of a cheering smile
a death of a emotions n wishes
a death of a world!
poem by Angels beauty
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What Have They Done To You
Written by james young and tommy shaw
Lead vocals by james young and tommy shaw
There must be something out there,
There must be something real
Well this mysterys a nightmare
And I dont know what to feel
Well I heard you had a hell of a time there
I guess it chilled you down to the bone
If theres one thing I can tell you
Itll never leave you less than alone
In spite of everything you told me
In spite of everything Ive heard
Theres nothing here that I call holy
Not a solitary word
Could you tell me what its like on the outside
Were you really lost and out of control
Were you reaching for your freedom
When the gatekeeper called for the toll
Oh-oh, what have they done to you
Where, where have you gone
Oh-oh, I wanna run to you
In spite of what youre saying
I still cant let you go
Well they say you witnessed some kind of lefe there
Was it something real or nothing at all
Or is your imagination all thats there to catch you
If you start to fall
Oh-oh, what have they done to you
Where, where have you gone
Oh-oh I wanna run to you
In spite of what youre saying
I still cant let you go
Oh-oh, what have they done to you
Where, where have you gone
Oh-oh I wanna run to you
In spite of what youre saying
I still cant let you go
What have they done to you
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother’s Day
Mother, I owe you my life and love;
The good things that you did,
Can I forget?
Mother, you gave me my birth on earth;
You nursed me and reared me,
Kissed me and blessed.
Mother, you were my dear teacher first;
Who showed me the wide world,
Helped stand erect.
Mother, you were my role-model/ guide;
Who moulded my character,
Revealed God’s love.
Mother, you toiled for my life’s comfort;
Can I ever repay
Your kindness, care, love?
‘Happy Mother’s Day,2011! ’
From loving daughters, Cathy and Diana
poem by John Celes
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