Nothing left behind
After death, one cannot own the things gained
But can, his children who are his copies.
To attain all wealth and the world's honour
And remain barren is nothing left behind.
10.08.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Crazy Jane On God
That lover of a night
Came when he would,
Went in the dawning light
Whether I would or no;
Men come, men go;
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
Banners choke the sky;
Men-at-arms tread;
Armoured horses neigh
In the narrow pass:
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
I had wild jack for a lover;
Though like a road
That men pass over
My body makes no moan
But sings on:
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
Before their eyes a house
That from childhood stood
Uninhabited, ruinous,
Suddenly lit up
From door to top:
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
Oh, that lover of a night
Came when he would,
Went in the dawning light
Whether I would or no;
Men come, men go;
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mark R. Slaughter
Just like the dahlia
Death comes in all its beauty
And so I stroke her petals
Push my feet root-deep
Into the composted soil
As weary clouds unite
Coalesce
Darken through the greys
In preparation
Incontinence prevails
Lachrymose in empathy
They cry for me
Sharing tears
Mortality brings
As twilight closes
I rot
(They fade)
To be the plant
(They'll water)
I, denomination Mark R. Slaughter
Struggle thro' my fantasy
To seal the state of mind
That I of soul
Remain eternal
Back on the windowsill
A daffodil stretches
From a bulbous foot
Flirts like a ballerina
STOPS
Wonders of the world
My cat hears the brassy thoughts
From yellow trumpet
Pricks up his ears
Iridescent eyes
Focussed on the future
I'll wait
For his appraisal
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
A Trail of Death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Every soul goes into oblivion
Time
spares nobody
Big or small
King or a pauper
Every soul
Goes into oblivion
Every name is forgotten
Remain hidden
Never to be seen
Than why fear about it?
Use immoral means!
To attain immortality
19-02-2012
198-109-02-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Do Not Want To Go
'No, No, No, I don't want to go'
Time has not yet come for me to show
To the world that I have left this world for simple reason
I want to live here for some more years as a wealthy person
What I have seen in this world up to this time?
Childhood has consumed most part of the time
Where was I given choice to act of my own?
Now only I have come across and known
I spent time recklessly in young age
I did lots of bad things which can not be written on page
'Poor adventurous age' so I too followed same
It too passed off and this old age suddenly came
I did lot many things to corner enough of wealth
I knew I had no time so did not care even about health
I employed all tricks and fooled the people
Got as much as I wanted and finished the struggle
As soon as I realized that now is time to rest
This death bell rang to wind up my life's best
How can God be that cruel to impose such will?
I am afraid that not much time is left still
What will happen to my palatial building?
And to those precious emeralds which are in hiding?
Oh no God, give me some more time to adjust
I have no one so close here to whom I can trust
Now I realize why people wake up in late age
Wind up everything in time and skillfully manage
Now I am caught in cross fire and can't resign
I shall soon be put on fire and body may be consigned to flame
Give me some more time for worship as I followed nothing
Life was enjoyed as if it may not have any end for something
I repent now for not having utilized it in best way
The death lords may come anytime and take me away
Still I wish that I could be spared
To think about death I shouldn't be dared
Wealth, property and ornaments I have adored
It may all now be of no use and stored
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Children’s Day,2009
Our children are the gift from God;
You spoil the child by sparing rod;
The priceless wealth from Heav’n above,
That are being aborted now!
Children must be brought up with care;
They have the right to food and air;
Yet, freedom is seldom given;
To begging alms, some are driven!
Children need to learn and to play;
God dwells in them, some always say;
No home is complete without them;
They’re matrimony’s diadem!
How some struggle to have one child!
Yet some rear them like beasts in wild;
The future of the world depends
On healthy children’s dividends!
But why are children ignored much?
Denied are they love, human touch;
Their lives are lost in umpteen ways;
World’s children pass such sadder days!
O world, wake up from your slumber!
Children are bigger in number;
The health of nations is their health;
World’s children are the planet’s wealth!
Let’s make the world a better place;
Let children wear a smile on face;
Let parents rear them with due care;
Without good children, none can fare!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-14-2009
poem by John Celes
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Forbidden Death with Dignity July 28th,2012
FORBIDDEN DEATH WITH DIGNITY July 28th 2012
By
James Bredin
Death with dignity should not be too difficult to impose,
No need for a referendum and just see how it goes,
And those who oppose it will just have to shut up and learn,
Like now; those of us who want it have to shut up and yearn.
Because our politicians will not arrange this anytime soon,
From binding referendums and mandatory voting, we're immune,
All party politicians have been told by their party bosses,
You can't like these things or it might be your political losses.
That's why nothing is done for voting or death in this regard,
A party politician could loose his job and his party card,
Sue Rodriguez could not get death with dignity when she tried,
She was refused, with painful Lou Gehrig's disease and then she died.
But this is real and this is now and we are still alive and here,
And without referendums or political input; should we fear?
Media moguls tell us that there is no need to complain,
This is the way things are and this is how they will remain.
July 28th,2012
poem by James Bredin
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We Are in a Cocoon Aug 15th,2012
WE ARE IN A COCOON AUG 15TH,2012
BY
JAMES BREDIN
Almost all our politicians are completely party bound,
With religious fealty they remain faithful and renowned,
They do and vote according to their party instructions,
All changes are frowned on unless they are party productions.
The party agenda, whether right or left, has to be obeyed,
And no Ottawa aristocrat appointee can be betrayed,
And binding referendums will remain completely banned,
Therefore Canadians issues alone by themselves may not stand.
Death with dignity can never be politically discussed,
Like Sue Rodriguez, you and I could end up in painful disgust,
We should have proportional representation sometime soon,
A small insignificant change to get us out of this cocoon.
AUG 15TH,2012
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death be Feared Not
If life's a journey, destination's death
Taking close to it, each of our breath
All who travel and reach their goals
Welcomed and cheered by fairy dolls
Many lose ways, go left or right
Sins they commit, lose mind and sight
Wander miles, end having no aim
Chasing wealth lust or worldly fame
Bring relief and joys end of journeys all
Come to me o Adam's Children. God's call
Jahan Zaib: 03/12/2012
poem by Jahan zaib
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The Most Sought After Thing
What is that one thing which we all crave or want the most of in life?
is it wealth, health, fame, knowledge, love, a perfect husband or wife?
Or is it in fact a combination of all these things and yet even so much more?
something, perhaps that is everlasting, once gained can never be lost at all?
If such a thing did exist then could it be acquired or had?
and if so how could one have it and do good instead of bad?
Where would such a thing be found or come from or who be the giver thereof?
Could it be made available to all at any time when there was a genuine need of?
Is it a state of divinity the source of infinite power, knowledge and bliss
that each and every one can attain being their birthright but only dismiss?
It just so happens that all the true religions of the world seem to point in that direction
calling it specifically by a different name while having the same underlying conception.
An ultimate realised state of immortality without any restriction of time or space
transcending body, mind and individuality; every subtle and phenomenal place.
Not subject to any change or decay, though embracing all within itself seeing
and as one without any second, immaculate and complete, an unlimited being.
A supreme unique state of freedom and really the most sought after thing,
a plane of being of pure wisdom which in its wake all the above does bring.
That one victory of all victories which wins yourself and your true Selfhood
the real purpose and meaning of all life culminating in Universal Godhood.
There have been many in the past and even in the present who have gained this state
although it's virtually impossible to attain on one's own without being their good mate.
So dedicate yourself for the goal with love to gain their divine favour or benevolent grace
by a pure mind and heart seek their company letting one of them guide you to That Place.
poem by George Krokos
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Sonnets XCII: XCIII: The Sun's Shame
I
Beholding youth and hope in mockery caught
From life; and mocking pulses that remain
When the soul's death of bodily death is fain;
Honour unknown, and honour known unsought;
And penury's sedulous self-torturing thought
On gold, whose master therewith buys his bane;
And longed-for woman longing all in vain
For lonely man with love's desire distraught;
And wealth, and strength, and power, and pleasantness,
Given unto bodies of whose souls men say,
None poor and weak, slavish and foul, as they:—
Beholding these things, I behold no less
The blushing morn and blushing eve confess
The shame that loads the intolerable day.
II
As some true chief of men, bowed down with stress
Of life's disastrous eld, on blossoming youth
May gaze, and murmur with self-pity and ruth,—
“Might I thy fruitless treasure but possess,
Such blessing of mine all coming years should bless;”—
Then sends one sigh forth to the unknown goal,
And bitterly feels breathe against his soul
The hour swift-winged of nearer nothingness:—
Even so the World's grey Soul to the green World
Perchance one hour must cry: “Woe's me, for whom
Inveteracy of ill portends the doom,—
Whose heart's old fire in shadow of shame is furl'd:
While thou even as of yore art journeying,
All soulless now, yet merry with the Spring!”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Accustomed to the pain
The innumerable funerals
Witnessed give me hope that after my death
My children will do likewise for me too.
Throwing away people and things valued
By their parents, on their deaths, gives me pain
That mine too will meet the same fate post death.
13.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Immolation Of Love
Love wedded them together
to live with honour.
When fate struck at
her man to drown and die,
leaving her two girl-children
to the care of the world,
Sangita set herself ablaze.
Had she had the hope of
thriving alone in this harsh world,
she wouldn’t have left behind
two young orphans to cry.
She made haste to come along
with her beloved man
and she made haste to go away
from her lovely children
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Death is when....
Death is when my loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain in my heart
Death is this feeling of permanent sadness and pain
Death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is the call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell
Death is the lesson i need to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is this unhappy feeling i have
Death is pleasant on my behalf
Death is the day i end my life
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is happiness to the world around me
Death started when i gained my life
Death can be helped along with this knife
Death is where i shall go
Death is close, i kno
Death willl come fast
Death is vast
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
Death is joy to me
Death has come for me
Death is gonna take me
Death will stop my misery
Death loves my company
Death ends the pain
Death takes me on that train
Death is near
Death is finally here
The derivative
Man’s affinity with his stock
And woman’s affinity with her stock
Remain ever in spite of marriage,
Which connects them by sex,
Which lock them by their copies [children]
But which cannot make them derivative.
29.03.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet
The riches of the poet are equal to his poetry
His power is his left hand
It is idle weak and precious
His poverty is his wealth, a wealth which may destroy him
like Midas Because it is that laziness which is a form of impatience
And this he may be destroyed by the gold of the light
which never was
On land or sea.
He may be drunken to death, draining the casks of excess
That extreme form of success.
He may suffer Narcissus' destiny
Unable to live except with the image which is infatuation
Love, blind, adoring, overflowing
Unable to respond to anything which does not bring love
quickly or immediately.
...The poet must be innocent and ignorant
But he cannot be innocent since stupidity is not his strong
point
Therefore Cocteau said, "What would I not give
To have the poems of my youth withdrawn from
existence?
I would give to Satan my immortal soul."
This metaphor is wrong, for it is his immortal soul which
he wished to redeem,
Lifting it and sifting it, free and white, from the actuality of
youth's banality, vulgarity,
pomp and affectation of his early
works of poetry.
So too in the same way a Famous American Poet
When fame at last had come to him sought out the fifty copies
of his first book of poems which had been privately printed
by himself at his own expense.
He succeeded in securing 48 of the 50 copies, burned them
And learned then how the last copies were extant,
As the law of the land required, stashed away in the national capital,
at the Library of Congress.
Therefore he went to Washington, therefore he took out the last two
copies
Placed them in his pocket, planned to depart
Only to be halted and apprehended. Since he was the author,
Since they were his books and his property he was reproached
But forgiven. But the two copies were taken away from him
Thus setting a national precedent.
For neither amnesty nor forgiveness is bestowed upon poets, poetry and poems,
For William James, the lovable genius of Harvard
spoke the terrifying truth: "Your friends may forget, God
may forgive you, But the brain cells record
your acts for the rest of eternity."
What a terrifying thing to say!
This is the endless doom, without remedy, of poetry.
This is also the joy everlasting of poetry.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Death Shall Not
Death, they say
will take everyone away
but there are things it could never take
even if life was at stake
death shall not remove your laugh which still rings in my ears
death shall not erase your face with your smiles and your tears
death shall not take those years
death shall not cut off those endless walks
death shall not wipe out those honest talks
those shy looks it could not steal
only god knows how i feel
god, sorry those words are fake
but my sorrow is your mistake
well, who am i fooling
death has taken everything from me
since it has taken you
For these things surely remain
But somehow i know they will never happen again.
Needless fighting it was.
There were two brothers who bitterly fought
To share the wealth after their father’s death.
Issueless, one brother left all his wealth
At his death to his brother having a son.
24.02.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In honour I gained them, and in honour I will die with them.
quote by Horatio Nelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ideals
Better than land or gold or trade
Are a high ideal and a purpose true;
Better than all of the wealth we've made
Is the work for others that now we do.
For Rome grew rich and she turned to song
And danced to music and drank her wine,
But she sapped the strength of her fibres strong
And a gilded shroud was her splendor fine.
The Rome of old with its wealth and wine
Was the handiwork of a sturdy race;
They builded well and they made it fine
And they dreamed of it as their children's place.
They thought the joys they had won to give,
And which seemed so certain and fixed and sure,
To the end of time in the world would live
And the Rome they'd fashioned would long endure.
They passed to their children the hoarded gold,
Their marble halls and their fertile fields!
But not the spirit of Rome of old,
Nor the Roman courage that never yields.
They left them the wealth that their hands had won,
But they failed to leave them a purpose true.
They left them thinking life's work all done,
And Rome went down and was lost to view.
We must guard ourselves lest we follow Rome.
We must leave our children the finer things.
We must teach them love of the spot called home
And the lasting joy that a purpose brings.
For vain are our Flag and our battles won,
And vain are our lands and our stores of gold,
If our children feel that life's work is done.
We must give them a high ideal to hold.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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Death is.....
Death is peaceful
Death is sharp pain in my heart
Death is feeling sadness
Death is deppresion
death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is when i cant think about whats right
Death is a good thing on my behalf
Death started when i gained life
Death is where ill go
Death is near
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
DEATH WILL STOP MY MISERY
poem by Angelique Paniagua
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