Tears not the scale
As a teenage boy I wept most
When my grandmother died.
As an old man I wept least
When my own mother died.
Do tears tell the depth the grief?
Tear glands dry with the aging.
23.10.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Agony of the old
Had I died as a lad, my parents would have wept.
Had I died as a man, my children and wife would have wept.
Had I died ere my wife, my wife would have wept.
A widower, an invalid, a cumbersome,
When I die who will have wept?
28.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: LVI
Who has not wept with Manon? Of all tales
That thrill youth's fancy or to tears or mirth
None other is there where such grief prevails,
Such passionate pity for the loves of Earth.
Who has not wept with Manon in her sin,
Wept in her punishment? What angry heart
Has been unmoved in youth to see her win
With those sad archers to the inhuman cart?
Who has not followed her beyond the seas,
And sold his life for her, and bowed his pride,
And sinned all sins to buy her back to ease,
And died all deaths to venge her when she died?
And I, blest boy, who each new happy night
When all was done still lived in her delight!
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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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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I had a cat and my lovely cat was ill
I had a cat and my lovely cat was ill
It was admitted in hospital for treatment,
Previous day it fought with a cobra to kill,
The cobra suddenly escaped to save but died,
It moves around my house to kill the snakes,
And it is just like a tiger and guards my house,
My children always play with it and feed it cakes,
Alas! why is it not recovered but died?
Dead body of my cat is put on sofa and all wept,
Why, pretty thing! could you not live with us all?
One by one all kissed it and sadly said it has slept,
If it is not seen at home tiger, tiger we used to call,
Alas1 with a bur-i-al ceremony in a grave it is kept,
All wept and wept and said, what a sweet fall!
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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Passion And Love
A MAIDEN wept and, as a comforter,
Came one who cried, 'I love thee,' and he seized
Her in his arms and kissed her with hot breath,
That dried the tears upon her flaming cheeks.
While evermore his boldly blazing eye
Burned into hers; but she uncomforted
Shrank from his arms and only wept the more.
Then one came and gazed mutely in her face
With wide and wistful eyes; but still aloof
He held himself; as with a reverent fear,
As one who knows some sacred presence nigh.
And as she wept he mingled tear with tear,
That cheered her soul like dew a dusty flower, —
Until she smiled, approached, and touched his hand!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Total Anarchy...
total anarchy...
the dollar died.
the mourners wept,
lips numb and bleeding.
plastic prayers,
to no avail...
'in god we trust...'
and god just died!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Day Old Shep Died
it's been thirty years,
that he's been gone,
the day he died, brought tears,
all day, i played his song.
for nine long years,
i loved him and he loved me,
the day he died, broght tears,
toward the end, he could barely see.
when he died, i was seventeen years,
my child hood died that day,
the day he died, brought tears,
during his youth, we were always at play.
him and i was, so close in years,
when i got shep he was five and i eight,
the day he died brought tears,
he always ate his meals, off our plate.
he died at eighty-four in human years,
he lived to a ripe old age,
the day he died brought tears,
for this poem, he set the stage.
i can't believe, its been so many years,
i think about him, all the time,
the day he died, brought tears,
but old shep, was all mind.
of all these many years,
no dog has taken the place of old shep,
the day he died, brought tears,
i'll always remember, that dog with pep
in memory of old shep 1946-1960 written june 21,1990
Song III
She sat and sang alway
By the green margin of a stream,
Watching the fishes leap and play
Beneath the glad sunbeam.
I sat and wept alway
Beneath the moon's most shadowy beam,
Watching the blossoms of the May
Weep leaves into the stream.
I wept for memory;
She sang for hope that is so fair:
My tears were swallowed by the sea;
Her songs died on the air.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Mother only could cry.
He died at ninety two miserably,
Subjected to curses, humiliations,
Neglects, together with immobility.
His mother, if alive, would have wept.
26.07.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Love lost matters nil.
I had lost my wealth in a gamble; I wept.
I had lost my son in a battle; I wept.
Out of love or out of loss had I wept?
Out of fear or out of need had I wept?
No one ever for the love lost had wept.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Man Who Died For Me
The man of whom I choose to speak
Was holy as can be,
For he was sinless, quite unique,
The man who died for me...
It was a long, long time ago
Yet changed all history,
Such that today most people know
The man who died for me...
Though famous in a foreign land,
His fame did not come free,
For some refused to understand
The man who died for me...
They schemed and plotted day and night,
Their hatred plain to see
And in their blindness chose to fight
The man who died for me...
And once arrested, he stood still,
Before them silently,
Until the time they chose to kill
The man who died for me...
Then he declared his holiness,
His future destiny
And yet not one agreed to bless
The man who died for me...
The crucifixion was decreed
At callous Calvary...
And there I wept to see him bleed...
The man who died for me...
They say He was God's Son and more,
His death brought victory...
I was baptised, now I adore
The man who died for me...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
Tune in to the Revelation TV channel on Sky etc.
The Watch Now online option is on their website:
revelationtv-dot-com with extra links and videos.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Blood relation is a myth
Mother died young; who will bring me up?
Tears flowed..
Mother died old; a great relief so soon.
No tears.
Sister died young; who will bring her kids up?
Pity flowed.
Sister died away, having eloped with a man.
No pity.
Blood relation must be burdensome.
25.12.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Alone in grief, alone in thought, alone
[The Pieta’]
alone in grief, alone in thought, alone
the mother stood, the mother wept,
small, silent, tearless tears at the brim
that never came:
The Pieta’
Around the gloom, around the dark, and hopelessness
She held her son a piece of flesh
Alone in grief, alone in thought she stood
The Pieta’
She saw him hit, she saw him fall, his eyes
She closed herself; hers the last kiss
Hers the last touch, farewell:
Alone in grief, alone in thought she stood
Pieta’
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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The River Ran Red: The Kalinga War
The river ran red; thousands died as they gave their lives
The king bowed his head; Widows and orphans this day
Families in mourning, and he, only he, was the cause.
The river ran red. Resistance at the cost of lives
Humans and animals died side by side
The mutilation and the pain, the Daya flowing red, flowing red
And thus it came about that
He knelt and cheeks wet, the King wept.
Edicts in stone that speak. Misery and bloodshed
But no glory. As far from glory as conscience can be
Watching the mayhem in misery..
The river ran red. The King wept.
Copyright: Rani Turton
poem by Rani Turton
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Pious Ones
I saw a man so pious that he wept for me
And this meaning was written in those languages;
Nothing of medicine and surgery was committed
On me, for I bleed and am wounded like any man.
I saw a piety in me that wept for him,
On seas of ice we skated to be wise and learned
Throughout our stay on Earth.
The wisdom of a man is superior to his audience,
And so we wept for the One who created us,
Tears of brine destroyed the flames of Hell,
And entered the gardens to fill the pools
That were so much sweeter than they were before.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Worry affects the circulation, the heart, the glands, the whole nervous system. I have never known a man who died from overwork, but many who died from doubt.
quote by Charles H. Mayo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death of death
Death died death
A tragic death of unusual death
Cemetery moaned, howled and wept alone
Its tears all over the ground
Death! Its sole hunter and soul provider
Graveyard's convulsion of shame
As if death was new
Death was old had to die too
Nothing last forever
There was nothing new
Clouds gathered but never rained
No rain wanted to clean the blood on death
The unusual act of death
Even birds of the feather fights each other
Death died, all were dazed for death of death
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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The Day I Died
The air was close, but it would not rain
The day I died.
And smog enshrouded Gotham town
The day I died..
I should have stayed in Oceanside
The day I died.
Instead of a hellish subway ride
The day I died.
It started with a stabbing pain
The day I died.
Then waves of nausea deep inside
The day I died.
I fell to earth, I could not breathe
The day I died.
Co workers rushing to my side
The day I died.
Sirens scream on distant streets
The day I died.
bringing hosts of E.M.T.’s
The day I died..
Too late for me, this proud heart fails
The day I died.
I thought” This is the last of Earth”
The day I died.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Sinner's Prayer
The old man died, his spirit rose
And left the Earth behind...
Towards a place God only shows
To those He chose to find...
And this old man began to think
Of sins that he had done
Such that his faith began to sink
And hopes died one-by-one...
Along the Path of Righteousness
The old man had to stroll...
With thoughts his life was one long mess
For he lacked self-control,
Why God would love a man like him,
He could not comprehend
And with these doubts filled to the brim,
How could his spirit mend?
As he walked on, the Pearly Gate
Came suddenly in view...
As he prepared to face his fate,
God whispered, 'I love you! '
And all at once the man wept sore,
Because of all his sin
And God saw all his tears outpour
And rushed to let him in...
The man looked at the angels there,
Their wings were tipped with gold,
He saw such sights beyond compare,
So glorious to behold...
The angels sung such harmonies
The man wept sore and then
He humbly fell upon his knees...
'Let me go back again! '
God asked him why he sought to leave
And so the man explained,
'I cannot stay for I would grieve
With so much to be gained...
For back on Earth, where sin is rife,
Lost sinners go astray...
I need to preach eternal life
And warn of Judgment Day! '
God held him close and He wept, too,
'Return with all My love! '
That's how so many millions knew
What that man found above...
And millions wept the whole world wide
To think of what it cost,
For sinners, Christ was crucified...
That He might save the lost...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2012.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Two aged men, that had been foes for life, Met by a grave, and wept - and in those tears They washed away the memory of their strife; Then wept again the loss of all those years.