The past glory
The ant that comes in contact
With the leaf that had turned pale
Has not seen it when it was green
And hence treated it with contempt,
Like the youth regarding the old queens.
18.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dear women!
Autumn Leaf!
I couldn’t love you as I did when you were green.
Summer Leaf!
I don’t shunt you as I would when you turn yellow.
Tender Leaf!
Reap while being green and stop expecting later.
30.08.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be a beggar
Chose to be a beggar
When you have grown old.
The strangers who treat you
With contempt will not be those
You had treated with contempt
In the past, thus escaping humiliations.
13.02.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gray Room
Although you sit in a room that is gray,
Except for the silver
Of the straw-paper,
And pick
At your pale white gown;
Or lift one of the green beads
Of your necklace,
To let it fall;
Or gaze at your green fan
Printed with the red branches of a red willow;
Or, with one finger,
Move the leaf in the bowl--
The leaf that has fallen from the branches of the forsythia
Beside you...
What is all this?
I know how furiously your heart is beating.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Lonely Leaf
Lonely leaf
trembles
at the feeble moment
It's on the verge of falling
It's about to merge with limitless nature!
Air is guest to leaf once
now will become constant companion
Bond with tree
soon will be abandoned
The moment came
parting is always pain
fighting against time is invain
finally tree says farewell to the leaf
Now leaf realises boundless 'freedom'
It's floating like free bird
It is 'gone with the wind'
Leaf lost it's green colour
wearing pale colour
Colour hardly matters!
Leaf sings song of freedom
Bond with tree is bound
Feeling freedom is ecstasy abound
poem by Mula Veereswara Rao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Best Part
Best part of the life is youth
I don't know how far is the truth?
But certainly it is fact and enterprising
Life itself is on move and surprising
You prefer to see all green
Expect no loss and only win
You are on move and thrust is motto
You love all girls and their photos
As tree looks decorative with green leaf
Life too as at its peak but to remain brief
Any time that saga may be over
With bare branches and no possible cover
What to expect and what not to grab?
Everything is at feet with no restriction or cap
Down to earth is your approach and goal within sight
World belongs to you whether you are wrong or right
Seize the opportunity and strike at its root
Fine the target and precisely shoot
Time may not wait for any laxity on your part
Have it in your hand and look damn smart
So to say green represents dedication
Building strong and viable relation
No hasty move even with little excitation
But alas! Time moves on gradually with rotation
Leaf may turn yellow and look very pale
All ideas may stagnate and face may turn pale
This may come soon before ground is lost
Try hard for enough gain before it blows with high cost
If you act sensible when river is in spate
There won't be any problem to relate
Timely help may control the situation
Life may then have no problem with it continuation
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I Feel Like A Leaf In Autumn
I feel like a leaf in Autumn borne along by flooded rill
Running down the silent valley down along the moonlit hill
Down to join the flooded river towards it's final destiny
To it's deep grave in salt water in the bosom of the sea.
I felt like that leaf in Springtime on it's lovely mother tree
With it's brothers and it's sisters one big happy family
A bright green leaf in a green World dancing in the wind and rain
Give me back what's gone forever give me back my youth again.
I felt like that leaf in Summer when the sun shone in the sky
And the world was full of colour and wild songbirds piped for joy
And bright wildflowers in green meadow fit home for fair butterfly
Oh but all that's young and beautiful has one day got to die.
I feel like a leaf in Autumn borne along by flooded stream
Running down the moonlit valley that was once so very green
Down to join the flooded river towards it's final destiny
To be gone and lost forever in the bosom of the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Looking Back At The Greens
i too look back at those green things
from the point of view of my
green thumb
a vegetable garden without an aphid on a leaf
a row of roses, lush green leaves
and red blooms
some petals falling due to the
wind
a line of green mint trees along the path
leading to the highway
sounds of motors threatening what green there is
i come back and settle on this patch
of green meadows
and grass and gray shade
my own shadow cast
on the huge gabi leaf.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early Works - Oh To Be
Oh, to be at home again,
where lilies lie in fields
and larks fly overhead
while the sun warms each dropp of dew.
Oh, to be a child once more
in the spring of ones youth
to know the innocence of nature
in pastures always green.
Oh to see the green grass laze
as a breeze blows it to and fro
and know the perfume scent of flowers
along the hedgerows where they grow.
Oh, to be able to turn back the clock
that has too many times chimed,
and go back to our youth
of cartoons and nursery rhymes.
Oh, to be what will never be again
is and old mans plaintive joy
with wistful bouts of imagination
he wishes he were once more a boy.
10 August 2008
poem by David Harris
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5 Green Queens & Jean
I recall the moment
Before it slipped away
When 5 green queens
On a black bin bag
Meant all the world to me
And I recall the moment
More distant than it seems
When 5 green queens
On a black bin bag
Meant all the world to me
And I recall the moment
Much closer than it seems
When 5 green queens
On a black bin bag
Meant all the world to me
And I recall the moment
Before it slipped away
When 5 green queens
On a black bin bag
Meant all the world to me
5 green queens & jean
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The doe’s illness
Limbs gaunt, gait dull, my doe turned pale.
All the drugs used were of no avail.
Her stag has been driven to hills.
My daughter too has fallen ill.
17.11.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Tree Ballerina Attitude Night Glorified
young tree danced
her solo after bearing
hot heat of day
in depth ink darkness
smooth naked pale bark
stood out stretched
in rhythmic star light
symphony against velvet
backdropp of still night
as youth tree danced
standing stretched upright
one leg ground based
standing upon one leg
other left leg raised
behind pale naked body
with her knee bent
chest pressed forward
head back inclined
branching off into greenery
both arms stretch up back
fingers feather into green leaf
tree ballerina face twisted
partly in ecstasy to side
your attitude night glorified
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When a man's mode of life is contemptible, it follows that his preaching is treated with contempt.
Sinning To Many Is A Frightening Premise
A familiarity may breed contempt.
And that encompasses,
A host of influences.
Having a familiarity,
May also include...
Some experiences achieved.
But an ignorance that breeds contempt,
Says a lot about one's limitations.
And the ease by which,
One who is thoughtless 'and' mindless too...
Can be programmed to self destruct.
Based on the feeding of fear alone.
And many people do,
Self destruct within minds stuck.
And fear to those ignorant,
Is as familiar to them...
As is their lack of knowledge.
Which also to them is treated like a sin.
And sinning to many like this,
Is a frightening premise.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To be remembered after we are dead, is but poor recompense for being treated with contempt while we are living.
quote by William Hazlitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The particular article ought in my opinion to be treated with absolute contempt. It is too vile to touch.
quote by Emma Lazarus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Feeling At 1: 04am,27/11/10
A night of mares
A night of many stares
A night when you appear hopeless
A night you seem helpless
A night you stand to be hapless
When you are treated like a dog
Noisy and best only in barking
When you are treated like a frog
Assummed cold blooded and best only in frowning
When you are treated like a log
Lifeless and best only in sleeping without a feeling
When you are treated like a criminal in the synagogue
Ruthlessly and left decaying
When you are treated myopic as if in fog
half blind and short of seeing
When you are treated as one who can only jog
slow and lame in running
When you are treated like a bog
With no respect, dirty and best only for waste disposing
When you are treated like a dog, a frog, a log, a bog
Will you stop doubting
Will you be a healthy person to be living?
poem by Julius Lenjatin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have The Touch
The time I like is the rush hour, cos I like the rush
The pushing of the people, I like it all so much
Such a mass of motion, do not know where it goes
I move with the movement and ... I have the touch
Im waiting for ignition, Im looking for a spark
Any chance collision and I light up in the dark
There you stand before me, all that fur and all that hair
Oh, do I dare ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake hands, shake hands.
Any social occasion, hello, how do you do
All those introductions, I never miss my cue
So before a question, so before a doubt
My hand moves out and ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake those hands
Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, the tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back, but nothing seems to please
I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Ah, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
I need contact.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Settled in Nettles
I remember climbing nettles-
Nettles climbing our wooden fence,
The excitement of touching,
The thrill of the blisters-
The red and the oozing
Beneath my long sleeves.
I remember nettle necklaces
Burning the fingers that linked
The green leaves- big green leaf
To big green leaf- How
My neck had red blotches
Itchy and sore. I scratched
And then bled and then wore fluffy scarves.
I remember Justin Whiles
Who scrunched up his face and bit
On his lip and tied me with rope
And dragged the green nettles
Over my skin and asked, 'Why
Did we do this again? '
And now in my cabinets are nettles
In jars- jar after jar- big glass
Jars, brimming with nettles,
Their thick green leaves.
And sometimes the night
Gets quiet and cold
And I walk to my cabinets
And pull down the jars
And pull out the nettles
And bite on the leaves
And bite and then chew
And then swallow the leaves-
Leaf after leaf-
Jar after jar-
Till the night's not so silent.
Till I throw up green mulch
In my hands.
poem by Alicia Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose Of August
A soldier with heart in hand
A lonely woman with no one for a stand
Things just happen in this life afore
People just live and some just lived before
But a tear coming out of thee
It is indeed a tragedy
O ye, Rose of August Night
Damned let it be I say
That broke thy heart in such a play
Thy petals of that seldom beauty
Nothing for them, even gold in bounty
Let thy crown be higher than those of queens
Of lands seen and those behind scenes
Comparable not, O ye Rose of August night
Don't lose that tear my heart in beat
Heavens or hell I shall bring no matter how heat
Broken hearts can be mended with care
But my heart to whom shall it go in moments of scare
No way my diamond of heart can it follow
Until the green leaf of my youth shall become yellow
But only to you, my Rose of August night
poem by Taher Shemaly
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Why Is It?
It makes me angry when I read
how murders, rapists and drug dealers
can be treated like kings;
even the scroungers of our society
are elevated in stature.
Yet our armed forces,
those brave men and women
who go out to battlefields
are frowned upon
and treated with deprivation
by those who send them to war.
They are the last ones to get help,
substandard help at that.
Yet child murders have praise heaped on them,
given new identities
all because they passed a couple of exams.
If you go and fight for your country,
you are treated with scorn
for doing a duty a lot would not do.
Maybe if they refused to go
were would the politicians be.
They would have to enlist
all those they have treated like kings,
the dregs of our society.
Let them go to war with meagre equipment,
let the enemy take their lives
and save us the job
of having to keep them in a kingly fashion.
Of course this will never happen,
only the brave go to fight
while the cowards stay safe at home
and live off what the brave
should be getting and never get.
29 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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