To Get The Bliss
Bliss is a stage where one expects
No returns, where one is immune
To contempt and where one wishes
No post death foot prints. A beggar suits.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Hard to Follow Questions
No one has known of me before my birth.
Why do I crave being known after death?
Nothing to remind of me before my birth.
Must I crave leaving my foot prints post death?
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Foot Prints
Foot Prints
a man and a woman
shoulder to shoulder
hand in hand
walk on the winter beach
his foot prints being left behind him
her foot prints following her
poem by Suchoon Mo_
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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
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Memories and Marks
Foot prints in the sand
Tell their story
Side by side they stood
Right at sunset
As the sun was shining it's last rays
As the silver moon overtook
They kissed
Everything was perfect
Love was everywhere
Happy as could be
They walked
Leaving behind foot prints
A tangible mark
Eventually washed away
By waves of blue
But the memory remains
poem by Autumn Winds
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The Spaewife
OH, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
An’ siller, that ’s sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Hoo a’things come to be whaur we find them when we try,
The lasses in their claes an’ the fishes in the sea.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why lads are a’ to sell an’lasses a’ to buy;
An’ naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Gin death’s as shure to men as killin’ is to kye,
Why God has filled the yearth sae fu’ o’ tasty things to pree.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
The reason o’ the cause an’ the wherefore o’ the why,
Wi’ mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Happiness in change of stages
I went on foot to far away school.
Then I rode on a bicycle with a pride.
Later two-wheeler took me to pedestal.
Now a car. In each stage I was happy.
In each stage the intensity was same.
Every up stage is a happy stage
till it is replaced by the next stage.
31.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Plant thy foot firmly in the prints which His foot has made before thee.
quote by Joseph Barber Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The assumed faith
Man expects women
To respond to his moves,
And hold faith that
His own spouse
Is immune to such moves.
Yet he is in relief.
25.02.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Is Bliss then, such Abyss
340
Is Bliss then, such Abyss,
I must not put my foot amiss
For fear I spoil my shoe?
I'd rather suit my foot
Than save my Boot—
For yet to buy another Pair
Is possible,
At any store—
But Bliss, is sold just once.
The Patent lost
None buy it any more—
Say, Foot, decide the point—
The Lady cross, or not?
Verdict for Boot!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Must they exist?
Before birth, my name was not there.
Before birth, my foot prints were not there.
Before birth, no monument was for me.
After death, must these things live?
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On The 2nd Anniversary of Benazir
O! Great lady you performed
Your role contributing heroically,
But you died an engineered death.
The dynamite placed deeper
Than your strategies has blown up
Your missions and bold existence.
Though death is inevitable,
Sooner or later each one of us
Will have to taste the tang of death,
Yet you lived your life
With vigorous soul,
Brimming with emotions.
Now you live into the world across
Where from no one returns;
We all miss you a lot,
Our eyes are heavy,
They are still carrying
The load of unshed tears.
The hearts are cumbersome,
For they have cargoes of grief.
Look behind!
Some hospitals, roads
And airports too,
Have been attributed to you.
Though your own prudent partner
Rules the kingdom,
Respects you in abundance,
Places a photograph
Of yours in the chamber of presidency,
Yet no FIR or MLR has been obtained
To trace the prints of assassins,
Which even the hire-less have the privilege.
When I sit alone,
And brood over your death,
I am grieved more and more.
Ah! You left no “Hamlet” behind,
Whom your apparition,
May convey the secret of treachery,
The way Chess has been played,
The way you have been removed
From the stage, and he may avenge
Your blood though with indecisiveness
And deep precision.
My heart often consoles me,
Asks me to remain tranquil,
And tong-tied, by saying,
“Be silent! When bad times come,
The evil are up, the honest are down,
The snake that tingles you
Often wears the crown”.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(3)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(2)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
Which Way Will You Go?
Falling leaves
Like fallen stars
Drift away like dreams
Memories fade away
Oceans sweep the sand
Growing older
More mistakes
Trying to reach wishes
Glass dreams break
When they hit the ground
Like loves lost
And lost loves
Scars decorate
Our past
Foot prints in the sand
Lead paths already taken
Will you make your own?
Which way will you go?
poem by Autumn Winds
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Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: I
When is life other than a tragedy,
Whether it is played in tears from the first scene,
In sable robes and grief's mute pageantry,
For loves that died ere they had ever been,
Or whether on the edge of joys set keen,
While all the stage with laughter is agog,
Death stepping forward with an altered mien
Pulls off his mask, and speaks the epilogue?
Life is a play acted by dying men,
Where, if its heroes seem to foot it well
And go light--tongued without grimace of pain,
Death will be found anon. And who shall tell
Which part was saddest, or in youth or age,
When the tired actor stops and leaves the stage?
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Fearing Death
Post death I cannot remember
Nor know if others remember me.
Post death I will go soon traceless.
That is why I fear reaching death.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beggar To Beggar Cried
'TIME to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
'And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And the worse devil that is between my thighs.'
And though I'd marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely -- let it pass,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'But there's a devil in a looking-glass.'
'Nor should she be too rich, because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And cannot have a humorous happy speech.'
'And there I'll grow respected at my ease,
And hear amid the garden's nightly peace.'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Love Out Of Compassion
Love, materialistic, expects returns.
Love, physical, expects responses.
Love from compassion has no condition,
Where pleasure of loving is the reward.
To perpetuate only happiness
One must head towards love freedom compassion.
For others to be happy,
Practise compassion.
For you to be happy,
Practise compassion.
Love without compassion
Is body without life.
To get the impetus
To show compassion to one
Who is in expectation,
Imagine he would die soon,
And it would generate
In you enough pity.
Also imagine what would happen
When you were in his shoes.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Great Day
Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot!
A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot.
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again!
The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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War's Want
War
Such a mad man
Staring after what he cannot have
A girl with black hair
But on Death's arm she is
War's heart fills with Envy
He wishes Death dead
But how?
War
The second Horseman
He wants what he cannot have
A girl who gives him glances
But ultimately
She is memorized
by the first Horseman Death
Lust..
War wishes he had what death has.
poem by Lovely No One
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