Stage is sanction of vision.
That majesty, that mango skin,
That ripeness, that grace in pose,
And that skill in vocal card
Eclipsed her age, and shaded
The spinster violinist,
Sitting beside her on the stage.
I enjoyed singer’s vision more
Than the fusion of music.
Other than a concert,
Where would you get a chance
To devour with eyes a woman blatantly,
So long a time and so at ease?
07.03.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beauty in crescendo
Romantic, when being a girl,
Vivacious, when being a spinster,
Alluring, when having married,
Serene, when carrying,
Self confident, when in lactation,
Arresting, as a young mother,
Assuring, as a mother of teens,
Soulful, as a young grandmother
A woman will pose to men folks.
06.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The First Deadly Sin
There once was a women who happened to be graced with beauty. She was adorable from the moment she was born. This wholesomeness lasted throughout most of her life. Her eyes were her greatest asset. They could mesmerize almost any man and hold him captive for as long as she wished.
Unfortunately, this beauty was the only thing she had to offer anyone. Her life was great for as long as this skin-deep gift lasted.
Then came a time, as happens to all of us at some point, where this youthful beauty begins to wane. The lovely face and eyes that she was so popular for had changed. Her image in the mirror was now a face of a unappealing spinster. The beauty gone, so were all the suitors.Then......
In youth her comely grace and eyes entranced
So many suitors. Men accompanied
Her every place she went. A few but glanced
Until they saw her eyes, then joined the stampede.
She enjoyed this charming situation.
It never dawned on her that beauty fades
In time. A slightest of inclination,
the queen of hearts became a queen of spades.
And now the throng of men that used to greet
Her, doesn't bother calling anymore.
Her lengthy lonely nights are not as sweet.
She sits alone and dreams of times before.
So now her mind has gone in seclusion
Loneliness is a foregone conclusion.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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It is as absurd to say that a man can't love one woman all the time as it is to say that a violinist needs several violins to play the same piece of music.
quote by Honore de Balzac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reason for madness
Why do we love the people we love?
What type of woman or man is loved
Has been cast long back at infantile
Stage in ‘love map’ of your brain waves,
Out of impression of their images,
And that cast goads your brain wave to pick
Which type of hair, eyes, skin, physique
And gait suit to your craving veins
And which mould of personality fits.
This is of the perplexity
As to why someone is mad of someone.
27.07.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beguild Easter Princess
Bronzed skin glows from origins east
Delectable buttercup for the eyes to feast
Torques blue through mystical sapphire
As gentle as lamb greatness you inspire
Memorable moments the stage you set
Tantalizing curves down my back runs a cold sweat
Gentle hips sway so magically to please
Dainty movements sets my mind at ease
More than just eye candy your are
Blessed being and the making of a star
Blossoming flower setting the stage on fire
You’ve have become every mans wildest desire
Beautifully fashioned yet never putting it out there
The drunk holds on tightly to his armchair
To everyone’s delight all faces now aglow
The stage is yours to command the show
Sing to me songbird of a melancholy ballad
Satisfy my soul for empty is my pallid
Archangel croons me tunes to a solid beat
Amongst your peers you are truly elite
Your voice resonate of a childhood lullaby
Standing firm a tear almost comes to my eye
Entranced by beauty naturally you possess
Beguiled I be my exquisite eastern princess
My mango chutney, you I would devour
Tenderly sweet and never sour to savor by the hour
Sing me melodies sultry to bring me home once more
You are a guiding light and voice men have never heard before
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Woman is like a mango
A girl is a mango infantile,
That tastes in pickles.
A lass is about ripe mango,
That tastes in curries.
A woman is a ripe mango,
That tastes with its flesh.
At forties as juice and at fifties
As jelly, she lingers to my taste.
Even in sixties, she is like mango-essence.
In seventies, as endosperm of its nut
She still taste though differently.
Woman to men is evergreen.
29.05.2001, Berhampur
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Singer/Songwriter (Leddra Chapman)
(This poem was inspired by the singer/songwriter, Leddra Chapman.)
This singer songwriter, of only nineteen years of age,
Is met by warm applause, as she takes to the stage.
She acknowledges her fans and bids them a cheery ‘hello.’
This evening, she’s accompanied by keyboard and cello.
As she stands on stage, tuning her guitar,
She still can’t believe that she has come this far.
She soon launches into her first song.
Her fans join in and joyously sing along.
With her audience, she happily interacts.
Fans, into every venue, she manages to pack.
She is able to light up an entire room,
When, all around us is doom and gloom.
Her outfit gives her a slightly hippie appearance,
Which, with her long blonde hair, gives her endearance.
Her manner is easy and light.
Her smile always beams so bright.
She often plays at small, intimate venues,
But quite a few festivals, she’s played at to.
She’s still studying at music school,
But, already, her music is considered really cool.
Her first album has already been released.
Soon, there’ll be a second. Another musical feast!
Her songs have often been played on Radio Two,
And she’s also been on TV, singing and doing interviews.
This young lady who’s still up and coming,
Stands with her guitar, her fingers gently strumming.
At the end of her set, she and her band take their bows.
The applause from the audience is extremely loud.
After finishing one of her wonderful shows,
She’s happy to sign autographs and pose for photos.
She’s one singer, who will never grow too big for her boots,
As she stays down to earth and remembers her humble roots.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Last Dance
He’d offered her his hand to dance
Politely, she’d declined.
“I have promised many others,
-perhaps another time.”
He accepted this with all good grace-
“Perhaps another time,
When your dance card is nearly full,
The last dance shall be mine.”
The night was young and she was fair,
Men clamored for their chance.
In some eyes she saw routine lust,
In others- true romance.
Her card was signed by many
There remained a single line.
She stopped back at her table
for a final cup of wine.
The dark and handsome stranger
was waiting for her there.
She took his hand without protest
as he rose up from his chair.
He led her to the dance floor
as the band played one last time.
The music was a stately waltz
done in three quarter time.
His arms were strong and masterful
as he led her in the dance
Her will seemed to desert her
as she fell into a trance.
In the half light she looked up
And searched his face and eyes
The eyes of Death looked back at her,
In lust for her demise..
Swept up in her dance with Death,
She uttered not a sound
for she was in his power now.
and destined for the ground.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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My Vision
Wherever my feet may wander
Wherever I chance to be,
There comes, with the coming of even' time
A vision sweet to me.
I see my mother sitting
In the old familiar place,
And she rocks to the tune her needles sing,
And thinks of an absent face.
I can hear the roar of the city
AAbout me now as I write;
But over an hundred miles of snow
My thought-steeds fly tonight,
To the dear little cozy cottage,
And the room where mother sits,
And slowly rocks in her easy chair
And thinks of me as she knits.
Sometimes with the merry dancers
When my feet are keeping time,
And my heart beats high, as young hearts will,
To the music's rhythmic chime.
My spirit slips over the distance
Over the glitter and whirl,
To my mother who sits, and rocks, and knits,
And thinks of her "little girl."
And when I listen to voices that flatter,
And smile, as women do,
To whispered words that may be sweet,
But are not always true;
I think of the sweet, quaint picture
Afar in quiet ways,
And I know one smile of my mother's eyes
Is better than all their praise.
And I know I can never wander
Far from the path of right,
Though snares are set for a woman's feet
In places that seem most bright.
For the vision is with me always,
Wherever I chance to be,
Of mother sitting, rocking, and knitting,
Thinking and praying for me.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Music Man
Music man oh music man
I hear you, a sweet harmonious sound.
A sonata, a magnum opus of exquisite mysteries
Music man oh music man
Let me fill your notes with my vocal picturesque soul.
Any note played with you, I know I’ll hold.
This linear musical structure couldn’t be better synchronized
I aim to mesmerize hypnotize that lucid drum now stabilized
Can you see it, imagine it?
Dare to make a sweet tune in this duo with it.
I just can’t see anything other than a great masterpiece,
a symphony you’d be insane to miss.
Music man oh music man
Its time, time to tell you how your melody
It leads me to feel a case of charity.
It’s with you I want to write this song
I now I can’t stay long, my studio time is almost gone
Music man oh music man
.
My stage fright is now mild,
I sing to make that heart smile
So are you in, do you have my missing 6 bars
This is an invitation to reach the stars
Music man oh music man
I need to know how this lustful song will flow
My impatience, this need for exclamation,
a little information is making it hard to cope.
Music man, is this more than a just song?
poem by Denise Veras
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Been So Long
(P. Diddy)
Ladies and Gentlemen its about that time
The newest addition to the Bad Boy Family
Ralph, Ronnie, Ricky, Mike, Johnny
New Edition
(Ricky)
Oh baby, yeah
No, no, no, no, no
Say its been so long
(Ralph)
And it feels like it was yesterday
but now were to stay
See we rock this way every time we hit the stage
Aaint nothing change
See its all the same
when we start the show
(Ricky)
Everywhere we go people sow us love
just cant get enough in 2003
Its only a new gain come around our way
all we wanna do is spread love
(Chorus)
It has been so long
And we cant let you down
It has been so long
(Johnny)
We wont ever stop
doing what to do
And that giving you
something that you can feel
So dont you ever doubt
cause we gon turn it out
And bring down the house
and we only just begun
We rock from town to town we always put it down
we only wanna see you out your seat no sitting down
So people gather round to hear that NE sound
we got love for all of you
(Chorus)
How can we let yall know know that we
we just cant let this go
Music is our love
cant stop it now aint no other way
Way for us to go
keep on giving love
Put your hands in the sky
If you wanna fly on a natural high
Its been so long since we got it on
cant you se were in it for the long run
(Chorus) (3x)
song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Virginia Wolf
some will strut and some will fret
see this an hour on the stage
others will not but they'll sweat
in their hopelessness and their rage
we're all the same the men of anger
and women of the page
they published your diary
and that's how i got to know you
the key to the room of your own and a mind without end
and here's a young girl
on a kind of a telephone line through time
and the voice at the other end comes like a long lost friend
so i know i'm all right
life will come and life will go
still i feel it's all right
cause i just got a letter to my soul
and when my whole life is on the tip of my tongue
empty pages for the no longer young
the apathy of time laughs in my face
you say "each life has its place"
the hatches were battened
the thunderclouds rolled and the critics stormed
the battle surrounded the white flag of your youth
if you need to know that you weathered the storm
of cruel mortality
a hundred years later i'm sitting here living proof
so you know you're all right
(all right)
life will come and life will go
(life will come and go)
still you'll feel it's all right
(all right)
someone'll get a letter to your soul
(someone gets your soul)
when your whole life is on the tip of your tongue
empty pages for the no longer young
the apathy of time laughed in your face
did you hear me say "each life has its place"
the place where you hold me
dark in a pocket of truth
the moon had swallowed the sun and the light of the earth
and so it was for you
when the river eclipsed your life
and sent your soul like a message in a bottle to me
and it was my rebirth
so we know we're all right
(all right)
though life will come and life will go
(though life will come and life will go)
still you'll feel it's all right
(all right)
someone'll will get a letter to your soul
(someone gets your soul)
then you know you're all right
(when my whole life is on the tip of my tongue)
then you feel you're all right
(empty pages for the no longer young)
and your hear dry you eyes
(you said)
and you know it's all right
(each life has it's place)
and your hear dry your eyes
(you said)
and you know it's all right
(each life has it's place)
and it's all right
(it'll be all right)
words and music emily saliers
copyright 1992 bmi virgin music inc and godhap music (bmi
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Want To Be The One Who Yah Yahs
I don't want to be that singer,
Of a long song gone.
Or be the one defeated,
By two unmoving feet.
I don't want to feel them stuck as if cemented,
With a sitting to waste time away.
I don't want to be that singer,
Of a long song gone.
Not any time of any day.
I don't want to be that singer,
Of a long song gone.
I...
Want my happy yah yahs.
I want that in my voice and strong.
I want my yah yahs there and a part...
Of my happiness all day long.
I don't want to be that singer,
Of those blues that sap.
I don't want to be the one that sits,
In a rocking chair to reminisce like that!
I...
Want to be the one who yah yahs.
I want to turn my yah yahs into art!
I want to hear my yah yahs rise,
To echo all over the place.
I don't want to be that singer,
Of a long song gone.
I...
Want my happy yah yahs.
I want that in my voice and strong.
I want my yah yahs there and a part...
Of my happiness all day long.
I want my yah yahs to never stop,
Drop to fizz or plop!
I don't want to be the one to sing,
About a dues I've paid.
With a blues with me that stays.
I...
Want to be the one who yah yahs.
I want to turn my yah yahs into art!
I'm going to yah yah until someone decides I disturb.
And they threaten to call the cops.
And when those cops arrive they will know,
The yah yahs I've got will not be stopped.
Since I'll shout my yah yahs from the top of roofs.
These yah yahs I've got come from the bottom of my heart!
There I discover my truth.
Dedicated:
In remembrance to Ernie K. Doe,
That great New Orleans singer and composer.
I will always remember when I first heard his song,
'Mother-In-Law'. To this very day...that song is 'hot'!
'I'm sittin' in la la,
Waitin' for my yah yah...
Uh huh,
Uh huh.
I said I'm sittin' in la la,
Waitin' for my yah yah...
Uh huh,
Uh huh.'
~Mr. Ernie K. Doe~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Time and space
Once you are with a woman,
Her skin and chin are not inimical.
Your age and wage are too to her.
Time and space engulf the disparities.
09.02.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sitting At The Wheel
I can hear the music playing
I can hear the word that youre saying
I can see the lovelife in your eyes
Whats the use in looking for an answer
I might find out
It could be a disaster
Hold on to your own time
Dont let go
Dont let go
Im sitting at the wheel
Watching the river roll roll on by
Sitting at the wheel
Dont let the river run dry
I can see your face on a piece of tomorrow
Ill hang my dream on a road I can follow
I gotta touch the warmth of your love
Not gonna take a chance a
Change of direction
Gonna keep on rolling till I find the connection
Hold on to your lifeline
Dont let
Dont let go
Sitting at the wheel
Watching the river roll roll on by
Sitting at the wheel
Dont let the river run dry
Im sitting at
Im sitting at the wheel
Like a voyeur standing at the edge of time
Looking for a reason
Thats got no rhyme
Love took a corner
Shot off for a mile
Rock on --- rocker
I can hear the music playing
I can hear the word that youre saying
I can see the lovelife in your eyes
Aint no use in looking for an answer
I might find out
It could be a disaster
Hold on to your own time
Dont let go
Dont let go
Im sitting at the wheel
Watching the river rock and roll on by
Sitting at the wheel
I am just sitting
Im just sitting at the wheel
Im just sitting at the wheel
Watching the river roll by
Rock and roll by
Sitting at the wheel
I am just sitting
Sitting at the wheel
If youre sitting at the wheel
Watch the rocker roll by
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Woman Before Me
(written by jude johnstone)
I can see you turn away
When I ask what for
You say it isnt anything
But Im not sure
Somethin underneath the skin
Wont let you be
And you try to keep it in
But I can see
The woman before me
Must have been hard on you
cause that hurt in your eyes
I never put you through
Sometimes I think
You must be talking to
The woman before me and you
Sometimes in an argument
It will show
When you go a little farther than
You meant to go
I know you dont mean the things
That you say
I just wanna ease the pain
Thats in your way
The woman before me
Must have been hard on you
cause that hurt in your eyes
I never put you through
Sometimes I think
You must be talking to
The woman before me and you
If there are sorrows that bring back a tear
Dont let them keep us apart
You ought to know youve got nothing to fear
Here in my heart
cause you and I will never be
Like the past
Whatever kind of memories
That you have
Nothins gonna hurt you now
Cant you see
I already made a vow
That I can keep
But the woman before me
Must have been hard on you
cause that hurt in your eyes
I never put you through
Sometimes I think
You must be talking to
The woman before me and you
Sometimes I think
You must be talking to
The woman before me and you
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Again
It had been some years
since you and I
had shared any stage and time
but here we are
in another's garden.
Strands of silver now showcase
your still pensive lovely face
You played Rosalind with me
in William's Arden.
Our theater borne romance
never really had much chance.
I know I hurt you
and I seek your pardon.
Never again to know that touch
which we both enjoyed so much-
It's true with time and age
positions harden.
Still, you tempted, and I ate,
and with that we sealed our fate.
That was long ago and
in another Garden.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The face reveals
In a revealing or provocative pose
It's easy for a woman to catch men's eyes.
In a concealing pose if one does it,
It's due to her face, which reveals the rest.
28.04.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Majesty
It will be unmatched by anything, the coming majesty of our King,
Fully unmatched and unsurpassed; a majesty that will forever last.
His Majesty, witnessed by a few, whom The Lord personally knew,
The Majesty of God’s Only Son, appearing on Earth for everyone.
Many know Him as their Savior, Jesus Christ, our God and Creator,
Though we’ve yet to see His Majesty, we’ll behold it for all Eternity.
Majesty, that we worship presently, we’ll worship together eternally,
When we see Christ face to face, after we’re lifted up by His Grace.
Even all, who don’t believe as us, who in Christ, have put their trust,
Shall see His Majesty up in the sky, as Christ returns with you and I,
This, as all eyes on earth will see, the coming of our Lord’s Majesty,
But as the Judge, for all of them, who in unbelief stand condemned.
The time for believers is drawing near, when the trumpet we will hear,
When we’re gathered to our Savior’s side, as His Holy Chosen Bride.
Presently, we cannot fully appreciate, the Glory of Christ as we wait,
Neither can we truly comprehend, Christ’s Eternal Majesty my friend.
Together with the saints of old, Christ’s Glory we shall soon behold,
As we see the Majesty of Christ, who rose, to give men Eternal Life.
The splendor of His coming friend, shall bring a dark age to its end,
As He brings this age to a close, with a Majesty, that no one knows.
(Copyright ©09/2008)
The Background Must Subdue
The heavy music
Will drown the singer's voice.
The heavy costume
Will mask the woman's grace.
Don't hire a big wig
To release a book of you.
You as the author
Will then be immersed.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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