The interpreters.
The child’s urine is water to mother..
Women’s armpits are smell of rose to men.
One’s own odour is pleasing to oneself.
Lust and passion are the interpreters.
16.08.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The interpreters
.
Child’s urine is mere water to mother.
Arm pits of women are sweet smell to men.
One’s own odour is a prfume to oneself.
Lust and passion are the interpreters.
16.08.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Being A Mother
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS A WORD
MOTHER IS A PERSON
MOTHER IS A WOMEN
BUT WAT IS REALLY A MOTHER?
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS WOMEN WHO GIVES BIRTH
NO........
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO CARES OF HER BABY
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO IS WILLING TO GIVE HER LIFE FOR THEIR BABY'S
ANY WOMEN CAN HAVE A BABY
ANY WOMEN CAN GIVE BIRTH
ANY WOMEN CAN BE CALLED MOM
BUT ONLY A REAL WOMEN
ONLY A REAL MOTHER CAN TAKE OVER HER RESPOSABILITIES
ONLY A WOMEN CAN DO WHATS BEST FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! !
A MOTHER LIKE ME
A MOTHER LIKE U
A MOTHER WHO CRIES FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO PRAYS FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO GIVES HER LIFE FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO STARVES TO FEED HER CHILD
A MOTHER WHO IS WILLING TO SLEEP IN THE COLD FOR THEIR CHILD,
A MOTHER WHO MAKES HER CHILDREN FEEL SAFE IN HER ARMS,
BEING THAT MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
BEING THAT MOTHER TAKES ALOT OF WOMEN N A PERSON
BEING A MOTHER........
poem by Leticia Sanchez
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Cow's urine
Cow 's
urine is...
Very very
Good...
It was usese
Some houses
At the...
Drops to water
Washing...
In india's
villages...
yes it is
Some naturral
Anti water...
some moor
village people
washes face also...
Cow's urine...
With gentely...!
[in india at tamil nadu village people usese's cow's urine...}
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Frosty Scent!
The sweet scent of a Rose
Stays frozen when sprayed with a hose;
Rose-water, Natural Sweet notes of a Rose
Aroma rejuvenates in Beauty's Classic pose;
Perfumes that suit you, are so many
Rose, Orange, Vanilla, Sandalwood and Honey;
Scents that soothe, please, enhance, refresh, cheer
All depends on the taste and mood, what you wear;
Smell that makes one happy and attractive
Personality, Taste and Mood is indicative;
Frost covers the flower but enhances it's fragrance
Sweet Odour hides the essence of your presence.
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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Lust, Lust, Lust
He lusts for her
Her apple breasts
Beneath her vest
Taste the best
Lust, Lust, Lust
Three women on the go
Yet happiness does not flow
It is only
Lust, Lust, Lust
Her apple breasts
Beneath her vest
Taste the best
The natural flow of wetness
He hopes to taste once more
Maybe its vanilla flavor
Will be one better than before
Lust, Lust, Lust
Lost in focus
Lost in defense
Can’t do his job
Till he scores once more
Now humble, no longer hardcore
Only suffering from lust hangover
Her apple breast
Beneath her vest
Has just put him to the test
The sweet fluid of sex
Displaying something complex
Lust, Lust, Lust
Save him
He is an emotional wreck
For he still lusts after his Ex!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Mother and child
Who nurses better-
Mother or wife? Mother
Whom does one nurse better-
Child or mother? Child
Husband is unfortunate.
13.12.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Completing All The Touches
Her pupil shone –
Black stole a peek
Her smile wore sleek
Beneath a knowingness
That I would seek
A slipping down of garments,
Jealous of their role
To hide the jewels that complement,
Completing all the touches.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Lines of Lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Visual prostitutions
Be Air Hostess, Nurses,
Receptionists, Frontline Officers,
News Readers, TV. Announcers,
Personal Assistances
Not to say about Models and Dancers,
All women, comely women,
To add colour to the premises,
To spray flavour to the masses,
And to spray odour to the bosses.
A mere visual prostitution.
No less than pimps.
Egress of lust for women.
24.07.2000, Paralskhemundi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Rose
A rose is not designed for heroes
Neither for hardened fellows
A rose for a guy will score a zero
A rose
I suppose
As it stands attractively with an elegant pose
Consumed with scents pleasing to the nose
Is for a Lady's heart and yours to get close
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.com
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Fantasy IV
Pounce of nipple
Snatches,
Catches me off guard
Flounce and ripple
Thro' the breasts
Arrests
Landing hard,
I'm flung upon my back
To analyse the ceiling -
No appealing under stress
Now under dress -
Panties gone
And she upon
My countenance -
I rouse to bait
Her feminine way
Lead astray by
Aromatic warming
Of her womanhood,
I tune her body's
Resonance
Thro' eloquence of tongue -
Her shrieking
Highly strung
We up the play
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Nasty Bath Room
The bustand
Bath room
Was not for
Clean...
Urine sumeel
Cut the nose...
Some budy pass
Urine...
No for water
But
Colected money
For indian rupees
Onr for urine pass...
Rupees two for
Motion pass...
I was give
One rupee
I went the
Bustand bath room...
Not passed
The urine...
Urine was my self
Very urgent...
But i did not pass urine;
I was pay the one rupee
For indian money
Nasty bath room...
You also go and see
The bustand that bath room
Very care full...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Love, passion and lust
Love demands no right;
Love demands no weight;
Love demands no return.
A mother thus loves.
Passion demands hold;
Passion demands right;
Passion demands return.
A woman can translate it.
Lust finds no ethics;
Lust exudes no fear.
Lust demands no reason.
A man is adept of it.
2202.10.2000, Vijayavada
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sweet Reprieve Rose
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
That was thrown on the battle field for my soul
The inevitable mortal wound waits for me on yonder hill
As the dawn breaks on the time transcribed for me
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When he was first enclosed
For three dark days and three lonely nights
Until he returned unto the light
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When we are first enclosed
Waiting for his trumpet to blow
And for all of his people to be called home
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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Love, Lust; Passion
Love is a complicated word,
Love and Lust can be misunderstood,
Lust is Red, always hungry for more,
Love is white, and as pure as Angels wings,
Feeling both at the same time can be magical,
Emotions take over your hopeful body,
Your soul filling with Star Dust and Twilight wonders,
Lust can be ignored,
Love can be forgotton,
But together, they are a Need,
Love and Lust, ever feel it? Its known as passion,
If you have Passion,
You are very lucky,
I feel it, Love, Lust; Passion,
But he does not,
I am floating alone along my own Milky Way,
Hoping, praying, one day,
He will feel my Passion,
Hear my Heart,
And float eagerly along my way.
poem by Jodie Louise Pollock
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The lust defined
Lust means luxuria, lechery, lasciviousness and sensuality.
Lust means intensive desire for sexual pleasure,
A taboo of the sixth commandments.
Lust is nothing but power, most aphrodisiacal.
Lust is carrying women in thought.
Lust is substituting prostitutes.
Lust is marrying and sustaining a family,
Putting up with children crying,
Overdoing themselves in explanation of lapses,
Looking at women they like to move around,
Buying expensive clothes for themselves,
Gifting valuables to women they have crush on,
Paying attention to woman other than their wives
To make up what was missing
Without knowing what it is.
In a nut shell, lust is in every action.
16.04.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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One Flower Grows, One Dies
that rose that grows is surrounded by the suns light, glowing
that rose grows, while my rose dies
my beautiful rose
with the smell of a million roses together
not the store bought roses that just smell like plastic and chemicals
no, the natural smell that i wish i could keep forever
she was my rose, she was the rose that died
and she is the one growing for another one
my flower dies, and the other one grew
not for me, but for you.
poem by Sarah Rabago
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Talons of a Gothic Mind
She of talons, borne from gothic mind-
Steel of blue her chilly stare,
Pitch of black her fetid blood-
Whence there came an evil flare
To terrorise the weeping kind
Befogged in mental mire; to rape
The shore with phallic waves -
And all for lust, her one desire:
Corrupt the sand of innocence
Without a case for penitence,
Or cause for such as reticence -
While coming on her priapismic fire.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Lust lust lust Lust lust lust Lust lust lust
Lust lust lust Lust lust lust Lust lust lust
Lust lust lust Lust lust lust Lust lust lust
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Blue Rose
Wish I could lay my eyes on the blue rose
Aches to touch it, caress the petals
Feel its texture on my skin
Smell its fragrance and have it stored in my memory
Need to touch need to feel
Close to the blue rose
See it bloom, fully share its passion and beauty in its core
Experience the blue rose
Listen to its dance
with the wind and sky
knowing and wanting it so much
such passion
Yet where is the blue rose
never existed
only lives in my mind
hoping its real
not a dream
poem by Rita Umali
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Blue Rose
wish i could lay my eyes on the blue rose
aches to touch it, caress the petals
feel its texture on my skin
smell its fragrance and have it stored in my memory
need to touch need to feel
close to the blue rose
see it bloom, fully share its passion
and beauty in its core
experience the blue rose
listen to its dance
with the wind and sky
knowing and wanting it so much
such passion
yet where is the blue rose
never existed
only lives in my mind
hoping its real
not a dream
poem by Rita Umali
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Heat of a Woman
The heat of a woman rising in lust
To bring flames to life turning men to dust
The heat that can burn, scorch and sear
When ever the man gets to near
But if a man survives the flames
The passion she shows will drive him insane
Locked in a timeless ecstasy
With no escape none he can see
Would he want to run away?
Diving in deeper with his soul he must pay
Of all the passions of women unbound
It’s the passion of lust that brings men down
poem by Dennis Walker
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