The environ is the factor
A red saree amidst green ones
And a green saree amidst red ones
Catch your eyes and lure.
One’s lure is related to one’s background..
16.09.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Woman is not blunt.
I sent her a note
to come the next day
in green saree,
to test her love.
She came
but not in green.
She came in yellow.
I am relieved
As she didn’t come
in red.
No woman is blunt
to show her mind.
Yellow is
as good as green.
12.12.2001, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Married woman assumes importance.
A bulky structure, in conventional saree,
With glamourless modesty, above forty,
She was spotted by me, with her man near by.
I imagined seducing; I fantasized raping.
Her sexiness failed to lure me.
But my conquering spirit lured me.
A woman is awed
When she is married.
29.05.2001, Berham.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Unforgettable Marina! !
Marina, my darling, you are a woman,
For you change your clothes often,
White sandy silver color with light green ocean border,
You do wear the saree of Goddess of education,
When the sun raises, the gold flakes sprinkles on the sand,
Gold border taken its shape with light orange strands,
You do wear the saree of Goddess of wealth,
When the sun starts to walk in the morning,
The bright red color spreads with energy and fun,
You wear the saree of Goddess of energy.
When the sun runs to seek his concubine in the moon,
You do wear the saree of grey in the afternoon,
When the people come to the shore,
And make up the design on your clothes,
You do wear the sarees of happy women in the evening,
Various designs, vibrant colors, different patterns,
Refined textures, sometimes soft and stiff,
As a woman before she is married off,
Sometimes, tired and soaked,
As a married woman, who is tired of,
Marina, you have made me to dream,
When I was a sparrow, looking through the leaves,
When I was an eagle, came out on Saturdays,
When I was a fish, swam in your waves,
When I was the dust, that stuck,
Under your visitor's feet.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Sonnet – Amidst
Amidst pitch -black darkness, God shows a light;
Amidst a Forest thick, He shows a way;
Amidst black clouds, He brings a moonlit night;
Amidst sorrows, God gives a happy day.
Amidst the desert, Oasis God shows;
Amidst the stormy Sea, He brings calm;
Amidst much strife, He opens newer doors;
Amidst much hopelessness, a helping palm.
Amidst tempest, God shows a bright light-house;
Amidst the glaciers, much sought-after peak;
Amidst our solitude, He gives a spouse;
Amidst the ravines deep, the lost lamb meek.
Amidst the chaos, God ushers new hope,
Amidst the gloom, He gives the church a Pope.
poem by John Celes
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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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Earth Again
They are incomprehensible, the things of this earth.
The lure of waters. The lure of fruits.
Lure of two breasts and the long hair of a maiden.
In rouge, in vermillion, in that color of ponds
Found only in the Green Lakes near Wilno.
An ungraspable multitudes swarm, come together
In the crinkles of tree bark, in the telescope's eye,
For an endless wedding,
For the kindling of eyes, for a sweet dance
In the elements of air, sea, earth, and subterranean caves,
So that for a short moment there is no death
And time does not unreel like a skein of yarn
Thrown into an abyss.
poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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Sonnet: A Prayer to God
Amidst all chaos Lord, bring order God;
Amidst the darkness Lord, show me Thine light;
Amidst the atheism, give me Thine word;
Amidst my weakness show, Thine divine might.
Amidst life’s sultriness Lord, give me breeze;
Amidst the mire Lord, could Thou me pull?
Amidst life’s stresses Lord, give me mind’s peace;
Amidst the storms of life, give me a lull.
Amidst my despair Lord, give me new hope;
Amidst my temptations, God, let me win;
Amidst life’s hilly tracts, show me a slope;
Amidst my struggles Lord, let me not sin.
Amidst my foes and woes, show me haven;
Amidst my worldliness, give me Heaven.
7-27-2002 by Dr John Celes
Dedicated to all my siblings, who shared my
Joys and woes, in life on earth
poem by John Celes
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My Idea Of A Good Day
There will be no sleep
The pains of hunger
The searing burn of thirst
Discomfort
But not discontentment
A feeling of loneliness amongst the overwhelming presence
A feeling of depression amidst the joy
A feeling of chaos amidst the peace
A feeling of confusion amidst the wisdom
A feeling of dejection amidst the love
There will be success
The delights of a feast
The coolness of an iced drink
Contentment
Complacency
A feeling of completion amidst inner brokenness
A feeling of happiness amidst inner death
A feeling of peacefulness amidst inner turmoil
A feeling of wisdom amidst inner misunderstanding
A feeling of camaraderie amidst an inner and overwhelming loneliness
Here's a hint, my idea of a good day isn't based on feelings.
poem by David Knox
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Which?
A LAND AMIDST SEAS!
A PEOPLE AMIDST ANIMALS!
A GENERATION AMIDST FEDERATIONS!
A MAN AMIDST WOMEN!
A CHIEF AMIDST SERVANTS!
WHICH BEST DESCRIBES I?
I AM OVERLORD IHCAKEYNO!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Beauty in saree
In a velvet saree a girl is lofty,
Leaner than being lean, taller than being tall,
Her curves and contours well defined.
Men prefer women clad in sarees.
(A survey says)
27.09.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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That One Time, When I Saw Her Eyes
I caught a glimpse once,
A long silent stare
Amidst the sickly sunshine blare
Of the green marble starlight show.
The stone lifted and all was gone
Amidst that sultry stare,
Body and soul submerged
Into the midnight pupil
Centered in that
Green marble starlight
Caught within said awkward stare.
Yes, that shell, that silly schoolyard show
So succumb to the
Might of that mystic
Green marble starlight
Glow
And all was right, yes all was right,
If only for a second
Until her shell stood up to go.
(2011)
Samvel Aleksanyan © All Rights Reserved
How Green Really is My Valley
She is standing behind the broken bamboo gate,
Incongruously framed, a row tall green flowers,
Perceived with bleak eyes through twisted wire fence.
How green really is my valley.
Breezy lime green of short grass,
Swaying bamboo playing fiddle for me-
Olive green ornament baffle us all,
Sliver streaks of light illuminate-
I lost my imagination in embellishment of past glory.
Slaughter woods speaks to us a lot,
The pain of pure air amidst defilement-
My children may see as green monument.
poem by Sakkthi Subramaniyam
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The Rim Of Green
Green panties, green roses
green tits, green milk.
Green moon, posies in green.
green eyes, green full lips
green face, cheese, green..
Green around the rim,
green limes can but erupt...?
poem by Is It Poetry
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Moon Shade (acrostic)
My eyes beheld a shadow of light.
One mid spring mysterious night,
Only the moon could shine so bright.
Nearer to the wooded crest in my sight,
Shadows glimmer amidst the leaves of green.
Heavens glow falling now I have seen.
Amidst the obscurity a growing sheen,
Darkness blends to enhance the scene.
Each moment I gaze at this, so serene.
poem by Cecil Hickman
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Green, Green, and More Green
There is green everywhere,
even in peoples' hair.Some
on hands, some on shirts.
There is green everywhere!
Green, green, and more green.
I think I'm going crazy over green.
If you don't wear green you get pinched,
then you'll start to itch.
So many people are obsessed with green.
Green Spring, green air.Green feet, green wheat, green meat.
Green isn't very neat!
poem by Autumn Howard
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O’ Woman In Jeans
O’woman in jeans
you are modern
you are not bound in chains like
that one in saree
O‘ woman in jeans
you work and work
you don't need that multitude of suits with dupattas
few pairs of top and jeans is enough
O’ woman in jeans
you look more curvy more sensuous
even when you are fully covered
your hips your bust is far more powerful
than one in saree, in stiched suits
O’ woman in jeans
you can move you can run
you need no excuse like
that head covered women
you can thwart the attempts of rapist
O’ woman in jeans
you look sensuous
you look commanding
you look proud
you need not to play submissive
O woman in jeans
poem by Pawan Sharma
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Green Eyes
got green eyes
as green as grass
on mama's lawn
got green eyes
over greener pastures
on the other fence
got green eyes
baby over your green eyes
when i stay
and you leave me
when you tell me
it is over
got green eyes
as green as
broccoli & lettuce
for my salad
that i serve
and share with my
newly found lover
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Three Roads
There is a town in Ireland,
A little town I know;
Its girls have tender Irish eyes
Beneath their brows of snow;
And in the field around it
The Fairy Hawthorns grow.
O, the Hawthorn is a Queen
And the daughter of a King,
And amidst her branches green
The sweet brown thrushes sing.
And from that little city
Three roads forever run
And on those roads the people,
The father and the son,
The mother and the daughter,
Walk till the day is done.
O, the Hawthorn is a Queen
And the daughter of a King,
And amidst her branches green
The thrushes sadly sing.
One road runs to the seaport
Where stately vessels lie -
American, Australian -
The weeping exiles cry,
Farewell to Grave and Hearthstone!
Dear Ireland - good-bye!
O, the Hawthorn is a Queen
And the daughter of a King,
And amidst her branches green
'Farewell!' the thrushes sing.
One road it is a red, red road -
That road to England goes;
The battle-drums are sounding,
The trump of battle blows;
And Ireland's sons go forth to fight
Against Red England's foes.
O, the Hawthorn is a Queen
And the daughter of a King,
And within her heart of green
The mournful thrushes sing.
One road it is a quiet road;
They travel it full slow,
Their eyes are filled with sorrow,
The silent folk who go
To where the Stones of Silence
Are shining, row on row.
O, the Hawthorn is a Queen
And a Lady fair and grand,
And the thrushes sing the keen
Of the Dead - in Ireland.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Keep Your Lure In The Water
Chorus:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
The lord said, "Simon, haul your nets in
From now on you're a fisher of men"
Well, I like fishin',
That's why it caught my ear
The Lord knew how to get to me
And what I'd need to hear
Chous:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
--- Instrumental ---
Well the sea is troubled
And it's hard to stay afloat
And you feel like Jesus
Is sleeping in the boat
Don't you dare give up
On the Prince of Peace
And in the middle of the storm
You will find a sweet release
Chorus:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
Chorus:
Yeah, Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
Yeah, keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lure Of Writing
The lure of writing
is not an easy one to break
once it has you in its grip.
It won’t let you go,
make no mistake.
You can struggle all you want,
but you can never win.
You can turn your back on it
saying I will never write again,
but you will.
The lure of writing
is not and easy one to break,
it will seduce you with dreams
and no matter how many times
they are crushed
the lure of writing
will draw you back again
and again and again.
25 April 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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