The Wounded child grows strong.
By curiosity a child begins its journey.
It demands attention, seeks recognition,
Claims identity, searches for security
And hunts for food to fall down in between.
The root is its ego.
Grows strong,
the wounded ego.
23.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The youngest one is the tip.
My own son is half of my blood.
His child has only one fourth of mine.
Yet I love it more than
I loved my son as a child.
The reason is not far to seek.
I am desperate for company.
I want a constant companion.
Others are busy to neglect us both.
The grandchild is my apical meristem,
That I want to tend to preserve my root.
25.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Pain shifts at birth.
A mother’s delivery ends with pain.
A child’s birth begins with pain.
Her cry is over when she delivered.
Its cry begins when it is delivered.
Pain is not a pain
When it brings joy.
23.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Branching looks away
Who can you rely on and when?
Your brothers and sisters
Till they are married off.
Your own siblings too
Till they are married off.
Your parents only when
You are the lone child.
Identity separates;
Plurals discriminate.
06.02.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Neglect not meditation
Do exercise; Branches are strong.
Do hatha yoga; Trunk is strong.
Do breathing; Root is strong.
Branch-less, trunk-less,
By root alone too can live a tree.
11.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Journey
when you can look
in the mirror,
and see your self naked
without running like hell...
the journey begins!
when you can look
at your every action,
judging your self honestly
by motive and intent...
the journey begins!
when you can give away
all that you cling to
without asking for anything
in return...
the journey begins!
when you can do the right thing
irregardless of the cost,
not caring what anyone says
or thinks...
the journey begins!
when you can see the faces
of God in the people you
despise the most, the ones
who've hurt you the most...
the journey begins!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Not valid, when old.
Be a child to your child when you are old,
If you want to live with your child.
Yes, forgive, forget, and be aloof
You’re an appendix, having no head.
29.01.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Love For Language
Sound denotes the tune
Tune shapes the word
Words sprout of strong feelings
Feelings have no limit, no boundary
But it is clothed by the language
Language endows with the identity
Identity confers recognition
Recognition offers self esteem
To the human beings in the society
Thus everyone has to devote time
and give all out efforts for protection
restoration and growth of one's own language.
poem by Ratnakar Rout
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Soul is distinct.
Music is food of love.
Love is food of lust.
Lust is food of ego.
Soul is distinct from ego.
19.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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No sex without women’s consent
Be it a zygote, s fetus, a still born
Or a delivered child, it could not
have been born without a sperm.
Attention, watching, contact,
Intimacy, embrace and coitus
Cannot be enacted by a man
Without the woman’s granting,
Be it at any stage. If deducted,
The man was slaughtered.
Sex is man oriented.
It succeeds only when
the woman seconded.
30.3.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Soul’s propeller
An infant craves for strokes.
A child craves for attention.
An adolescent craves for recognition.
An adult craves for identity.
An old one craves for gratitude.
A dead one craves for visiting as ghost.
Craving is the soul’s propeller.
11.09.05
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The change of guard
A woman in her mid age
is not averse to change of guard
or is desperate for a change
not that in him she lost curiosity
but that in her he lost curiosity.
Man lusts to explore.
Woman lusts being explored.
How to explore the one explored! .
28.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Man is the caged beast
Every man was born as a tiger
But was brought up as a cat
With the feed of dos and don’ts.
A caged beast with select food.
23.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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More produced than consumed
Authors enlarge; readers shrink.
Singers are more; listeners are less.
Preachers are many; followers scarce.
Programs are aplenty; viewers paltry.
Identity consciousness is on rise
16.04.2001, Pmdi[repitation]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Impulse is ultimate
A girl may love the loveliest pool
but slips to bathe in the nearest ditch.
A man seeks the sweetest fruit
but can trap only the closest rot.
Impulse out weigh emotion
12.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Patriarchy rules
Woman loves her mother.
Her mother in law cannot match.
When both are no more,
It is the mother in law
That she remembers most
Identity impose such feelings
A proof of patriarchy.
08.01.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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My Name Is Mom
It was brought to my attention after I became a Mom
That I was no longer me, but someone I’d become
I am still the same person that I was before the kids
But the reference to my identity was different before this.
Now I’m someone’s Mom, I don’t even have a name
And I was slow to notice it, so who was I to blame?
Someone I barely know quizzically looks at me and says
I think I know your daughter, she’s in my daughter’s class.
My name is D. I tell her and she looks at me confused
She’s waiting for my last name so it will give her clues
And here I must confess that her name as well eludes me
But her daughter’s name is Nancy, that’s ironic don’t you agree?
So for those of you awaiting the blessed event of your first child
Remember the words I’ve written here for one day you will smile
When that little boy or girl grows up and steals your identity
You’ll have to stop and remember just who you used to be.
poem by Donna McCord
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Value is the need based
Wood is more than gold
When the food finds no wood.
Food is more than gold
When human finds no food..
Water is more than gold
When you die of thirst.
Anything is more than gold
When it is vital for life.
13.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Personal Attention
Personal attention
a gifted child leads
Personal attention
an average child needs
Personal attention
at risk child pleads
Personal attention
an autistic child deeds
Personal attention
a parent plants the seeds
Personal attention
is what every child needs
Thus..Personal attention
is what every teacher heeds
poem by Robert John Meehan
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The old grows mad.
Old man is in rage,
For, over ages,
His store of knowledge
And the acquired skill
Lie in waste,
With no takers in sight.
More mentally,
Than physically,
He fast grows sick.
31.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Lonely Spider
The lonely spider reaches out
For what, you might ask?
If not to spin his web then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
The lonely spider calls out
For what, you might ask?
If not for his mate then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
The lonely spider waits
For what, you might ask?
If not for his food then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
'A spider doesn't have feelings! '
How should you know?
'A spider isn't that smart! '
That could be true.
'A spider can never have a real identity! '
And neither could you, or any of us
But we try to find one even if we're not looking
And thats our life... after which we die
What have we done with our life up until then?
Either we've thrown it away, gave it up, wrecked it, lived it up to the fullest, took it for granted, or got far in it.
We still had one.
It's up to us what we shall do with it
Just like the lonely spider
Who will probably just end up on the bottom of your shoe anyways
poem by Andreanna Atkins
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