Must Heirs Be Grateful?
The left over food cannot be kept in
So it is thrown out: dogs and crows eat it.
The made over wealth can't be carried.
It is bequeathed; must heirs be grateful?
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Dogs (Homage)
Man’s best friend?
Why?
There is nothing quite as cute as a puppy
Dogs are more than pets, they’re companions
Dogs are fiercely loyal
Dogs protect life & property, even to their own demise
Dogs do not judge their masters
Dogs are grateful for any food fed them
Dogs can be trained to carry, guide, search, rescue and hunt
Dogs are great listeners
Dogs are ready to play anytime
Dogs are emotional sponges that absorb human misery
Dogs are wonderful match-makers and buffers
Dogs can chase away “The blues”
You can take a dog’s balls and he’ll still love you
Yes,
Dogs are 'Man’s best friend'
After all God is Dog spelled backwards...
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alone!
The rooster crows early morning,
But waltz in the afternoon, spreading,
One wing to the submissive not clucking hen,
The hungry crows arrive with kith and kin,
With ear piercing cawing just to scavenge,
The grasshoppers, beetles and the birds chirp for free,
Hamster squeaks playing with the mate,
Squirrels squeak running for the food,
The dogs bark threatening every dude,
Occasional humming from the hummingbirds,
Still I feel alone in the safety of my home.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crows for Konstantin
Crows.
The noise of conflict dies away.
Those left alive will now depart.
Only the dead allowed to stay,
they have no further part to play.
The warring sides in full retreat
The crows tonight dine on fresh meat.
Though neither side claims victory.
The crows will feast quite happily.
Since man first slew another man.
It seems to be Dame Natures plan.
The crows will feast on the remains
The scavengers alone will gain.
While warring sides must count the cost
of fighting men that they have lost.
Perhaps one day we’ll realise
In war there are no victories.
Bar for the crows who do not fight
but satisfy their appetite.
On those who do who in their view
Choose to fight. they don’t need to.
Although in death they feed the crows.
I don’t suppose the crows oppose.
The idea that men come to blows.
Nor do they care I must suppose.
The only winners are the crows
who feast until they’re comatose.
On what is left of those who chose
to risk their lives exchanging blows.
Sunday,09 May 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Crows (Fun Poem)
Two crows spied a piece of bread
Both landed beside it on the ground
They started to squabble over it
As neither wanted to share
While they squabbled about it
A passing squirrel spied it to
As the crows continued to squabble
The squirrel nicked it
Then made a hasty retreat.
The crows stopped squabbling
And decided the bread to share
But when they looked upon the ground
The bread was nowhere there
The moral of this story
Yes, there is one indeed
If you want to squabble
About food somewhere
Make sure there isn’t
A squirrel lurking there
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't consider the wealth is eternal!
While the wife feeds
the husband, with love and desire,
the different types of foods
prepared with six tastes;
And he takes only one handful,
leaving the rest untouched,
from the quantity of food prepared,
the remaining food is wasted;
However rich,
he is likely to become poor one day
and beg for food in some other place,
Hence don't consider the wealth is eternal!
(naalatiyaar - aRaththuppaal - selvam nilaiyaamai 1)
Hence don't waste food
and share it with everybody,
Utilise your wealth
for charity!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Hunger, The Pang
Our mother earth gives
For one good grain sown
Hundreds of fresh grains
For our food in return.
How many sweet fruits
For a life time she gives
For one seed she takes
As one tree it grows?
Any animal on the land
Or any bird on the air
For its morrow's food
Does it take all the care?
For the food on the ground
How a crow makes a sound
Of 'caw' to call crows around
Just to share what it found?
When big cooked rice balls
An elephant in its mouth takes
A part of it on the floor spills
That feeds hundreds of ants.
But when a have on this earth
For his self, the food he hoards,
Doesn't the have-not's mouth
Go unfed for days countless?
The food in a pompous feast
A junk of it goes as rubbish.
If this goes to the poor atleast
Will that not fulfill God's wish?
The worst pain in the world
Is what the hunger gives
But this can be solved
If all follow the crows.
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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Pavlov's Dog: Advanced Lesson
Pavlov was a psychologist, I think
Who supplied his dogs with food and drink
But always preceded the giving of the victuals
By ringing a bell, that was his ritual
The dogs became conditioned and would be begin salivating
Upon hearing the bell, which to the food they were relating
Their mind was programmed by this little tinkle
Though they didn't realise it, they had no inkle
The noise of a bell, though it didn't taste or smell like food
Got these dogs in a very hungry mood
Just like smokers are conditioned to relax and unwind
By inhaling noxious fumes which only confuse their mind
(Sydney, Australia - 2006)
poem by Alessandra Liverani
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carried Away
(barry gibb/albhy galuten)
There you are
Shiny as a morning star
Its a figure of speech
But youre still out of reach
You never told me loving you could be so wrong and right
And its gonna be a lonely night
I turn to you
You turn away
Youre looking at someone else
And here am i
Loving you more and more
Weve got an open door, my love
Oh let it be just a state of mind
And suddenly you appear
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Cest la vie
So you wanna play another part
Can you say goodbye
Can you live a lie
Shell never give you what I gave you was my breaking heart
Better than I ever knew
And if you can live without my love
Youre really gonna be alone
And here am i
Walking against the crowd
Calling your name out loud, my love
Oh let it be just a state of mind
And suddenly you appear
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Carried away
Baby there aint no final word
Ill be yours again
I got a world of tenderness
Yours until the end
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Show is not a measure
Cats and cows are not dogs to wag;
Yet they aren’t ungrateful dogs.
They are grateful but don’t flaunt.
Don’t scale the gratitude by show.
01.01.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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’Tis a Sad, Mad World!
A famished, ill-clad beggar stands
Amidst some barking dogs!
All searching through the garbage-dump
For left-over food, fast;
Each taking turns at emptying,
The things inedible;
Their hunger-pangs can drive them mad;
Will Dame Luck smile on them?
His eyes keep straining just for food,
On plantain-leaves by luck;
The scorching sun can’t bother him,
Nor can the stench within;
His pangs of hunger goads him on
To lick the residue;
His face keeps smiling when he sees,
A morsel of cooked grain!
The dogs are happy biting bones,
Though meat, they never meet;
He’s back to work upon the pile
And sorts the rocks from leaves;
There’s silence excepting the noise
Of scrambling for food found;
The garbage-dump’s a blessed spot,
Where man and beast share food!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Culpable Billionaire
There’s something I don’t understand about such a billionaire.
How much does he have to have before he wants to share
His great wealth with the world’s vast pool of poor…
Or does he just ignore their needs as he claws for more?
He has all the power that money will ever buy,
Except to purchase one second more to delay his time to die.
So, instead of seeking more billions to divide among his heirs,
Why can’t he invest in lost peoples so futures might be theirs?
In his short life this wealth is only his to briefly use;
If he does nothing but make more of it, he does nothing but abuse.
He drives one car at a time, eats three meals and sleeps in one bed.
The other toys are just accoutrements to keep his ego fed.
With all his power this billionaire has a unique chance
To help his fellow man to prosper and advance,
Turning his bills and paper notes into food and educations.
As it mushrooms it won’t be just paper, but growing nations.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The crows, he said,
would roost each night in the middle one
of the three tall trees at my garden's end,
every night the flock of crows,
every night the middle tree,
except the once,
just the once,
the only night they did not come,
the very night a German bomb
hung-up, dropped late, and hit the tree.
The crows, he said,
were back next night in the left-hand tree,
where crows have roosted sixty years,
every night the flock of crows,
every night the left-hand tree,
except tonight,
except tonight,
the only night they have not come:
awake, I watch that moonlit tree,
the gap where something used to be,
awake, I wonder -
poem by Wild Bill Balding
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Syrup Sponge
Pour a pint of cream
Upon my spongy bulge!
Scoop me with a
Hefty spoon;
Taste my essence -
Do you swoon?
Feed your self-esteem; indulge
In me until you burst -
Death by syrup sponge - you're cursed!
And as the count in inches gain
Upon your weary waist, the strain
Will tell, but you'll not care -
Steeped in sponge, you're unaware!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food
food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Created Wealth Versus Inherited Wealth
rich man
or woman
poor born
with
abilities
gifts
which enable
him or her
to fast prosper
meet a market
need or potential
to self develop
economically
to create wealth
statistically
such workaholics
may be too busy
to ever relax enough
to enjoy
their wealth
for long
so driven
by need
to achieve
constantly
changing
set goals
their
own
set
maximum
economic
potential
inherited wealth
especially old wealth
is a very different
animal
wealth
takes
a lot
of time
care
not all
relatives
share in
or
equally
in
bequeathed
inheritance
of fortunes
when
it
comes
to the acid test
good hearts
are found among
rich and poor
percentages
of goodness
the quality
of any heart
not as easily
defined
as cliché
experts
assert
weigh
hearts
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Pets
Do we love dogs because we can dominate them?
They do as they are told (after some struggle)
and love us unconditionally because they know it
is their only chance of survival; and after a while
do they really love us as a slave loves his master?
Wolves on the other hand will never give a paw
they refused to be enslaved, want to be free of
human’s interference and we hate and fear what
we cannot dominate or train to do our bidding;
maybe it is wrong to keep pets?
Dogs have been with us since stone age when
being with humans were less stressing than
having to compete with wolves for food?
When the moon is full dogs howl their distress
asking if they have made the right choice?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Me for Me
If i was not rich would you love me
Would you love me on my own
Without all the riches without my thrown
Would you kiss me if i were a toad
Or would you be searched for a higher road
Would you of loved me if i was not a king
If i had nothing not a thing
Would you still love me in sickness and health
If i give up everything including wealth
I believe you love me for what i am
And not the man the man i am
You love the title and all that it owns
But inside your empty an all alone
I wish you loved me for not that i'm king
I wish you would love me if i had nothing
You are blinded by wealth and my title you see
Dosnt just me loving you make you happy
For i would give up everything even the thrown
For you to love me and me alone
All of this wealth dose nothing for me
I want to be loved for me being me
For i am giving up everything you see
I'm leaving to find someone who will love me for me
Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where Do the Crows Go
I see and hear less Crows in Spring.
Where do the Crows go?
While the Morning Doves chirp,
And the Bluebirds sing.
At dawn I use to hear the Crows...
From the rooftops and fences,
Do that 'crowing' thing.
And now that Spring has arrived,
I do not see a Crow around.
Where do the Crows go?
That's what I want to know!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Causes of War
On January 1st, foxes deeply irritated overnight by
Black dogs barking demanding Political Scepter
In the Morning, the foxy Governor stood by hind legs
Looking side to side, which dog to be thrown to
Finally, to wrong the red dog that fluked in the next desert
And the foxes left, the red dog became the new master
Began saying a black dog can’t rule, lead or govern
“No black dog shall hold public office”
National constitution first Article reads
This political injustice, inequality and discrimination
In such prinking sensation principle caused
The black dogs to sharpen their teeth
On January 1st, the foxes deeply irritated overnight by
Black dogs barking demanding the Social rod
In the Morning, the foxy Governor stood by hind legs
Looking side to side, which dog to be thrown to
Finally, to wrong the red dog that fluked in next desert
And the foxes left, the red dog became the new master
Declared Gemono – his religion, as state religion
Virgono – his culture, as state culture
And said all dogs be Virginian – his nationality
He outlawed the black dog religion and culture
As heresy and Immoral
This blasphemy and sacrilegious in such
Manner caused war between the two dogs
On January 1st, the foxes deeply irritated overnight by
The black dogs barking demanding the foxes to leave their land
In the Morning, the foxes left, the red dogs rushed in their houses
Became the new owners of the houses
Began using Gemonoic laws to govern the black dogs
“If a black dog picks a slice of meat from butchery
A tooth of the dog is removed
If black dog tail touches gown of red dog
The dog’s tail is cut off
If black dog steps on the red dog mate
The leg that stepped on the mate is cut off”
This cruel and inhuman punishment caused biting between the red and the black dog
On January 1st, the foxes deeply irritated overnight by
The black dogs barking demanding the foxes to leave
The foxes left, the red dog became the new master
Began stealing taxes, gold and oil causing
A cycle of poverty and disadvantages and uneven development
Calling the black dogs slaves and sub – humans
Even the black dog that don’t lick the eye of their puppies underwent this economic injustice and humiliating racism
Caused bloodshed between
The black dogs and the red dogs
Note.on January 1 1956 Sudan got Independent from Britain
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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