Nude as such is flat
But for hidden breasts,
Cleavage fails to attack.
But for slipping Pallu
Her chest is nonchalant.
But for low hip bottom,
Belly fails to rebel.
But for lifting skirt,
Thighs are mere slaves.
But for low cut blouse,
Back is barren.
Nude as such is flat.
19.12.2001, pakd
[pallu = the end portion of saree thrown over the left shoulder, hiding the breasts, contour]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The wrapper has no use
How fully wrapped you appear!
How wholly draped you are!
However, you are to me naked.
Your pallu round the lean arm
Hides from me your flat belly.
Your pallu thrown over shoulder,
Close to neck gives me a clue
How deep your cleavage beneath is.
Your pallu brought backward
Covers the blouse with bra cut.
Your pallu brought forward over shoulder encloses deep armpit,
And the dimple of elbow.
Your pallu never runs over the head,
Which gives me all the clue
How you will look where you’re hidden.
I can see your long face, long nape,
and long hair and long fingers,
By which I can sense your hidden parts.
However fully you are wrapped,
However wholly you are draped,
You are to me fully naked.
To my passion or to my acumen-
To which should the credit go?
You can shut to my eyes.
You cannot stop my eyes.
11.05.2001, Pmdi [repetition]
[pallu is the end portion of Indian woman saree,
thrown over the chest and a shoulder
to hide the contour of one's breasts]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conceal to reveal
Breasts bare, breasts with bra,
Breasts revealing the cleavage,
Breasts under blouse with bare belly
And breasts with contour visible
Have their appeal up in that order.
The more one is left for imagination
The more the beauty will reveal.
06.12.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Aish is all graceful
Be in ultra modern jeans, with hair cropped,
Be in curves with a bikini, with hair cascading,
Be in swimming suit, with hair dripping,
Be in top and middy, with hair thrown back,
Be in velvet chudidhar, with hair hiding the cheeks,
Be in saree and blouse, with hair loosely knotted,
Be with chemise on breasts, with hair permed and ornamented,
Be on cotton saree, with hair made to bun,
Be in half saree and blouse, with hair tightly plaited,
Or be in any fashion that comes into being,
The actress Aish is blooming and beaming,
What not is the fashion or style for Aish, all the grace?
19.10.2000
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Modesty counts
Breasts when hidden add value to the cleavage.
Breasts when hidden make the loins seductive.
Breasts when hidden add poise to the face
Breasts must be hidden to make men erotic.
25.01.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Saree And The Blouse
The blouse hugs your curves
And deepens the cleavage.
The saree shapes your contour
And displays your loins.
What else can clothe you better?
06.12.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A woman is ambiguous
He chances to set his eyes upon her chest
As she with her pallu hides her bust.
Is her act to hire his eyes still longer
Or to blur his eyes away from her nest?
07.01.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Then even death is worth. [adult contents]
Let me come now to your fortress,
Having blinded your inmates.
Let me encounter you at your door,
And take you by arm to your room
Where let me strip you of your shyness
Along with your blouse and skirt
Against all your seemly protests.
Let me rove your tiny breasts,
Narrow thighs, compressed groin
And pubes to be followed by tongue.
My claws on the imprisoned breasts,
My legs a pillory to lock your legs,
Let me toss you up and down to heaven.
Let me seal your thirst of lust
And put me to rest of quenched lust.
Of consequences is even death.
02.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The haunting past
I was a budding star, a lovely flower,
I was sought after wherever and whenever I went.
I was loved and desired more than by my parents.
It was a credit, I felt, men’s eyes on me.
I pleasurably got wounded. They groped me
Under the pallu, beneath the blouse and the bra
And underneath the skirt. Each flesh got wounded
Erotically. I fed on the grains men scattered
On sand. Now no man is around. No flesh abounds.
I starve. They vented me out but yet haunt me.
22.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trans-placement of sex.
Breasts were kept out of sights;
Cleavage grew prominent.
Groins were hidden with clothes;
Naval became distinct.
Mating across is denied;
Masturbation has taken its place.
Induced by the sight of
The cleavage and belly
Coupled by masturbation,
Man sheds his interest
To have sex with women
As people, having watched the cricket
From television, have lost
Interest in seeing it in person.
28.02.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To allure, need not be a nude
The mere imprint of your bra belt
Beneath the tight-fit voile blouse
That I had scanned on your back,
While sitting behind you in a bus
Was so much to kindle my lust
That even a cabaret dancer at best
Can’t emulate with her naked breast.
Where is the validity of nudity?
The mere sight of your covered breast
That I stole from your robust chest
As you, to serve me tea, stooped,
With your sari end no sooner slipping
Than your hand upon it restoring,
Had so much current to conduct
Than could a girl, exposed in a bath suit.
Where is validity of nudity?
The mere sight of your knee made me mad
When you waded across a brook,
Lifting your sari to the raising water,
Your legs being visible up to knee,
The sight even a circus woman can’t beat,
With arms and thighs fully naked
And the body springy and supple.
Where is the validity of nudity?
No need of nudity
to produce acidity
13.11.97
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The merciless beloved
Knowing that you have crowded teeth,
he loves you and fails not.
Knowing that you have strange lips,
he loves you and fails not.
Knowing that you are not attainable,
he loves you and fails not.
Knowing that he must not love you,
he loves you and fails not.
However you ignore and evade,
he loves you and fails not.
Can you find some one better,
who can emulate him?
Are you a granite or limestone?
Can you save his love?
05.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The hindustani dress is the sexiest.
A short blouse, low cut skirt,
belly open beyond navel,
a sash worn across the breast,
the most sexiest dress
a woman can have to excite men.
The belly reminds you of your abode;
The curve of the blouse
reminds you of your earlier sucking.
The frills remind you of the spot
underneath, the exit door.
The hindustani dress is ever invented
To make woman more alluring.
29.05.2001, Berhampur
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Modesty is the beauty
There was no occasion for anyone to discern
Her cleavage, belly or loin,
All hidden in the fully covered saree.
Her bust, not prominent, makes no mounts.
The only parts that she reveals are
Her face and forearms and no more.
At the sight of her, so much excitement.
In the presence of her, so much vibration.
All her hidden treasures are bare to accuracy
In my memory and fantasy.
It is not glamour but modesty
That provokes a sensible man.
10.12.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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An Ant Gets Attention
In absence of an elephant,
In absence of an antelope
And in absence of an earthworm,
Even an ant will capture your eyes.
With cleavage hidden, belly screened,
Without sleeveless or low back blouse,
A woman can still get a man’s notice
With her face, ears, nape and lock
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The nudity, no need
Than the sight of a woman in circus,
Who bares herself save chest and hip,
The sight of a housewife excites more
When she walks through a stream
With her sari tucked up above the knee.
Than the sight of a supple woman in gymnastics,
Who shows her bare limbs and contour,
The sight of a woman next door excites more
When she stoops to sweep the yard,
Her blouse betraying her cleavage.
Than the sight of a virulent woman in swimsuit
Who swims in apparent transparency
The sight of a known woman excites more
When seen behind in front seat of the bus,
Her bra cut seen through beneath the blouse.
To excite, no need to expose
01.11.98
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The hidden breasts
A woman hides her breasts with clothes;
She hides them from being seen
To betray their presence by shape
More pronounced than the naked.
Anything that is hidden means
It’s location isn’t traceable.
Breasts aren’t hidden with clothes;
Breasts are decked out with clothes.
24.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Handkerchief Surrenders
If I can but see
those reaching arms before me,
feel flat against my chest
your welcoming breasts;
for me this would content.
If I could but feel
that dizzying quivering
your touch makes,
that for me would content.
If I can see
my own soul stirrings
in your beckoning eyes,
my contour
fitting your contour
perfectly,
I'd sigh
the perfect sigh.
So close we;
paper thin
the space between;
that all points of contact
blend
smooth skin
against smooth skin.
.
Give me your handkerchief;
wave it
before me;
and here is mine
in sweet
surrender,
buffeted
by that perfect breeze;
my
and your
deep breathing
brings.
mutually;
handkerchiefed.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rupert
Rupert:
Sey yuh waan know Rupert
Blouse and skirt (repeat)
Sey yuh waan know Rupert
Blouse and skirt (repeat)
Verse 1:
Mi get up dis mawning
Sey mi nah ga a nuh work
Put on a pants and a likkle pretty shirt
Yow burn steel wi a go mek a gal splurt
Me hear a man start lick out alert
People dead! Me sey who? - Rupert
Mi go over deh a mi go see him inna dirt
Di way how me bex, mi sey everybody hurt
Mi a di fus' man sey, nuh mek di jeep splurt
A man draw fi a stone outta di dirt
And sey A obstacle must get hurt
Boop an lick a girl in har skirt
Mi hear she shout out Blouse and skirt
Dem deh time blood a decorate di skirt
Rupert:
Sey you waa know Rupert
Blouse and skirt (repeat)
Sey yuh waa know Rupert
Blouse and skirt
Verse 2:
Bop! Bop! shot start fire
A man sey "Hombre come we retire"
Shines say "no man, puncture di tire"
Yeah! Yuh go dweet, cause yuh a Bag-A-Wire
Bop!Bop! more shot start pop
"What is a uzi dat, no is a glock"
Yow! Stop yuh noise man, a chat you love chat?
See smoke deh, a tear gas
Tek yuh sheet dem, move di mattras
Lock di door from di bottom to di top
Mi did wake but mi gone sleep back
Mi naw go out deh fi get nuh gun shot -
Rupert:
Suh yuh nuh know Rupert, alright
Blouse and skirt
Verse 3:
Mi a go tell yuh how di youth get hurt
Him sey him eat till him belly did a run
So him wake up and go do-do Over di burial ground
So a come him a come See a jeep and go run
Bow! an dem shoot him dung
A man started to talk whey did dumb
Three couple man jump a fence Whey dem
Nobody know dem nuh waa get gun dung
Rupert:
Sey yuh know Rupert
Blouse and Skirt
Repeat
Verse 4:
As him a come di door lock An look how long it did open
yet him inna line, thru dem start back voting
Look how much time poor people heart been broken
Long time dem a dweet dem fi stop di joking
Mine what yuh drinking, Mine what yuh smoking
Life worth living don't tek it fi joke ting
Yuh nuh see poker box, stop pay out token
Rupert:
Sey yuh nuh know Rupert
Blouse and Skirt
Verse 5:
Learn if yuh white an yuh can learn if yuh black
God give yuh breath and him can tek it whey back
Wrong yuh doing, a full time yuh fi stop
Shot a kill people more than how dem have heart-a-tack
Mi sey mek some more way and dem set some more trap
A good thing mi find out sey ants falla fat
Mi nuh drink outta dem glass Mi nuh eat outta dem pot
Sey dem bright like a bulb But dem dunce like a bat (So whey
Smaddy get shot - Rupert
song performed by by Zebra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty has no standard
Plump cheeks,
Surging breasts,
Massive buttocks
Fleshy thighs.
It is epic beauty.
Firm cheeks,
Standing breasts,
Bonny buttocks,
Slender thighs,
It is modern beauty.
Beauty reforms according to fashion.
26.04.2002, pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Famous Movie Poem - French Lieutenant's Woman
from the waves
she comes to your dream
a cauldron of longings
seeking your reassuring touch
thighs, legs, hands, breasts
blowing a tempest
in a bed of passions
please dont hold on to her
when it is over,
the waves will take her
to where she belongs
between the waves,
twinkling lights
charted by the breeze
and stars
the beautiest of passion
is what leaves
a bedfull of memory
which one can hold tightly to
reassuring as a treasure chest
warm as two sworn lovers'
bridge to paradise
legs, thighs,
hands, breasts..
the woman who comes
with a passion
the rolling of
incessant waves
and goes away,
quiet and swift
as a morning star
diluted by light of day
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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