The attractive women
A woman born with attractiveness
Is bound to impact men from birth to death
And with that, elbow through the progress.
09.04.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Reveals A Woman
In the face without masks
Death is a woman
In the moment you know yourself
Death is a woman
At the end of all questions
Death is a woman
As the well of all answers
Death is a woman
At the end of all regrets
Death is a woman
In the liberation through tears
Death is a woman
As the relief from battle
Death is a woman
In the loving embrace
Death is a woman
In the dreamless sleep
And in the endless peace
Death is a woman.
10-12-2007
poem by Sr. ANTONIO MCKINNEY
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A Sequel To Mamta's Asking About Sky Scrapers
after the progress
when sky scrapers
stand tall reaching
the moon and the
stars and elbow to
elbow with the sun
the birds may have
asked: where shall we
put our nests?
and the trees may
have asked: where
shall we ever grow
again?
and the brooks may
have asked: where
shall we ever flow?
and yes, mamta, the
children as asking:
do we still have
playgrounds to play?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The stone heart
Birth and death in my home
Affect me but need not you.
If feel as you feel about birth and death
Of my house, it detachment
08.02.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No individual soul
Which- the soul or body-
Is the cause of one
To be holy or lowly?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the cause for the king
To down and the traitor to crown?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the seat of genes
That transmits features?
Soul and body are co-born
Ever since when life was born.
At no stage, be birth, embryo,
Zygote or gametes that fuse,
Was the life born for the soul
To enter the body at birth,
And part at death.
Death is no more than
A death of a twig of the tree.
28.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Fighting Death
Death follows birth; does birth follow birth?
Birth to death, journeys have ups and down.
What is the status between death and birth?
Why must you fight death if no-rebirth is bliss?
(15.03.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Birth And Death
Birth and death, twin-sister and twin-brother,
Night and day, on all things that draw breath,
Reign, while time keeps friends with one another
Birth and death.
Each brow-bound with flowers diverse of wreath,
Heaven they hail as father, earth as mother,
Faithful found above them and beneath.
Smiles may lighten tears, and tears may smother
Smiles, for all that joy or sorrow saith:
Joy nor sorrow knows not from each other
Birth and death.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Birth and death
.
Death is certain for birth.
Is birth certain for death?
Post-birth is pre-death.
It is like go around and return.
Post-death is pre-birth.
It is like stay and remain.
Birth and death is better
Than no birth at all
23.09.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let me be a man
To be a woman is most envious.
I wish I were born a woman.
How mad men would be after me!
Yet I am proud of being a man,
Who derives more pleasure in being mad.
03.03.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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To See God
When i was born i believed in God
Then a woman taught me Santa Clause
Then the woman said there is
truth in the tooth fairy
Believe in fairy tales for
We wot not about God
When i was born i believed in God
Then a man taught me to fight
he said if you survive
Then there is no sin
And if you comply to men and women
Then men and women shall smile at you
As for God we wot not about Him
When i was born i believed in God
Then a coward said it is polite
To bow your head to money men woman
sex and earth and
If a womman gives birth (if)
Then teach the child
As we have you
i believed in not in God and
i thought it good to
Only believe in things i see
And i see
Men and woman falling
Cowards and earth dying
Trying to designate a god
That is willing to give
But not willing to take
i see all falling
But God is Lasting and
Forever though men and woman try
They cannot brake
God's Word is the only thing
That is not faked
poem by Deci Hernandez
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What for man and woman?
Woman is hearth and man is fire
There embrace is smoke.
Coitus is flame.
Pleasure is spark.
Emission is sacrifice
With orgasm as nectar
The result is birth.
But for this, what for
Did the God make man and woman?
09.01.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Childless Woman
O Mother of that heap of clay, so passive on your breast,
Now do you stare at death, woman, who yesterday were blest?
Now do you long to fare afar, and guide him on the way
Where he must wander all alone, his little feet astray?
But I now, but I now—
Sons of me seven and seven
The high God seals upon the brow,
And summons from his heaven.
Blest as a bride were you, woman, that time of years agone,
When love, giver of life, came close and led you to his throne.
And blest were you—have you forgot?—when through the moons of pain
The life love-given tugged at your heart and bound you with its chain.
But I now, but I now—
Seared by the high God's scorn—
Lives that will never come to birth
Body of me has borne.
And when the hour was come, woman, your dark and perilous hour,
When the twin spirits, Death and Life, clutched you with jealous power,
Rent by their war you lay half lost, until a baby's cry
Summoned you forth past world on world to sit with God on high.
But I now, but I now—
Never my baby's voice
Has called me forth from vales of woe
With seraphs to rejoice.
You in your arms have clasped him, woman, and fed him at your breast.
You sang him little songs at night, and lulled him to his rest.
The ages gone were yours then, and yours the years to be.
You gave him of your hope and saw the light no eye shall see.
But I now, but I now—
Sons of me born in dream
Cry out for robes of flesh; I see
Their wistful eyes agleam.
O mother of that heap of clay so passive on your breast—
Now do you stare at death, woman?—nay, peace, for you are blest.
Blest are you in your joy, woman, blest are you in your pain—
Once more he calls you past the worlds to sit. with God again.
But I now, but I now—
Sons of me nine and nine,
That looked on life and death with me,
Are neither God’s nor mine.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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LIVE and In Color
If an attractiveness,
To leap over a cliff is wished.
There is nothing that is going to stop...
The splattering that occurs,
When the impact of the plop
Spreads after it is dropped!
Prepare yourself with a hose.
Since this job to clean,
Is too big for a mop...
To impose on this scene.
Make sure the event,
Provides brilliant TV coverage...
Over the airwaves sent!
This is a nailbiter begging to be captured.
LIVE and in color!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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We played at a club called, the Elbow Room. Don Carlos, the nightclub owner, was very hip and a very important person who made a big impact on my life.
quote by Jim Capaldi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Womb to womb to tomb
I am born unto this womb
To be born again unto another womb
Before I take birth once again unto another womb
Then as mark of respect
A tomb shall man place on that womb
To remind the world
That this day a man
Was, born unto this womb.
Before another birth I seek
To live another life in another womb
In the seas of life I shall swim
Before I am once again ready
To take birth unto this womb
To be born again unto another womb
Before, I take birth once again to be entombed.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 290108.
poem by cyclopseven Ram
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Women’s luxury
Women are sounder than lass in appeal.
A middle aged woman is no longer
Kitchen bound and children bound.
She stays put not when the marriage works not.
Lithe, toned, technologically savvy,
An Indian woman is much intriguing.
Be she married, divorced, a single parent
Or an active mother, it makes no difference.
She knows the cosmetic market
And set right lines around her eyes.
She knows financial market
With the grace of gray around her temples.
Past conventions and traditions,
She has grown up rising herself.
She has raised the bar for men too,
Who are kept at bay gazing.
14.11.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Role of Soul and Body
The soul and body are integrated
Who governs one’s ego, desire and traits?
Are genes the seat of the soul or body?
Who commits sins and perform virtues?
Who experiences the joy and sorrow?
It is not the soul alone that does them.
It is not the body alone that does them.
Soul and body together manifest
Like the flame and candle together burn.
The struggle of the internal force with
The external force is what we call life.
Our prayers and sacrifices have no sway.
Both are independent and unconcerned.
To sum up, there is only single soul
That runs through the entire living kingdom.
It never dies nor is born with deaths and births.
Its growth is bound by the external force.
The internal force is in continuation
To the external force, which is the God
They have their own agenda to perform.
Your prayers are irrelevant to them.
No soul exists or is reborn after death.
Sins and virtues are not to carry over.
Birth and death are internal occurrence.
To live is the motto of the living things..
15.01.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The role of soul and body.
The soul and body are integrated
Who governs one’s ego, desire and traits?
Are genes the seat of the soul or body?
Who commits sins and perform virtues?
Who experiences the joy and sorrow?
It is not the soul alone that does them.
It is not the body alone that does them.
Soul and body together manifest
Like the flame and candle together burn.
The struggle of the internal force with
The external force is what we call life.
Our prayers and sacrifices have no sway.
Forces are independent and unconcerned.
To sum up, there is only single soul
That runs through the entire living kingdom.
It never dies nor is born with deaths and births.
Its growth is bound by the external force.
The internal force is in continuation
To the external force, which is God
They have their own agenda to perform.
Your prayers are irrelevant to them.
No soul exists or is reborn after death.
Sins and virtues are not to carry over.
Birth and death are internal occurrence.
To live is the motto of the living things..
15.01.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tempest Tossed
New Year here heralds cares to come, scarce cheer,
In this age of transition where the earth,
New born, is torn protesting at its birth,
Emerging prematurely from the bier
That too well represents the dying year.
Each breath brings death towards us, proves its worth
Eternal yet ephemeral, tears, mirth.
Not in itself, but by an insight clear
Nature gifts bestows on who know dear
Is bought all liberty sought where its dearth
Never seemed so much the rule through wide world's girth.
Enter a clown, whose painted smile masks fear.
The Past is dead. New forces Fate shall steer.
Yet hide-bound minds remain too tied to berth,
Trammelled with ghosts past, whereas the earth
Witness whirlpool, progress drawing near: -
Oh, tempest tossed Tomorrow shall appear!
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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