Tree twines vine
Dew soft was Draupati.
Gun hard was Bhima.
In their consummation,
He felt in her
As in the claw of Garuda
Who scooped out Manthara.
Iron of Bhima melted
In the lava of Draupati.
(Manthara is the mountain which
god plucked to churn the ocean
to extract the ambrosia of immorality)
09.01.2002, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Valour and Power
A man of virtue was Yudhirsta.
A man of strength was Bhima.
A man of volour was Arjuna.
A man of looks was Nakula.
A man of wisdom was Sahadeva.
Arjuna won Draupati.
Bhima held Droupati.
Women admire the valour; [Arjuna]
Women succumb to the power.[Bhima]
Women enjoy the beauty. [Nakula]
Women revere the wisdom [Sahadeva].
Women value the virtue.[Yudhirsta]
18.12.2001, Pakd
[Perceived from the Hindu Epic Mahabharata]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Vine is sturdier than trunk B
Rose can’t stand Cactus.
Lotus can’t bear Elephant.
Drowpati bore Bhima.
Desdimona bore Othello.
Feminism has much hidden strength.
27.11.2001, Pakd
[In Mahabarata, a Hindu Epic, drowpati is a princes and Bhima is one of her five husbands, a huge bodied mighty man.]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Wrought iron is woman.
A raw iron is made to lava by puberty,
Cast to mould by consummation,
And solidified by child birth,
After which it is a wrought iron, the woman
07.05.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Magnet and the Churn
A MAGNET hung in a hardware shop,
And all around was a loving crop
Of scissors and needles, nails and knives,
Offering love for all their lives;
But for iron the Magnet felt no whim,
Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him,
From needles and nails and knives he'd turn,
For he'd set his love on a Silver Churn!
His most aesthetic,
Very magnetic
Fancy took this turn -
"If I can wheedle
A knife or needle,
Why not a Silver Churn?"
And Iron and Steel expressed surprise,
The needles opened their well-drilled eyes,
The pen-knives felt "shut up," no doubt,
The scissors declared themselves "cut out,"
The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said,
While every nail went off its head,
And hither and thither began to roam,
Till a hammer came up - and drove it home,
While this magnetic
Peripatetic
Lover he lived to learn,
By no endeavour,
Can Magnet ever
Attract a Silver Churn!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Lava Lamp
In the half light of the evening
I could almost see you glow, I can tell by the way you're moving,
Time may be right to let you know,
you've got a many coloured halo, the body of venus
a babe rainbow and if I come on any closer, I might fall into your silhouette
but the shape of things to come is constantly changing
so let it, so let it, so let it flow
lava lava lava lamp, lava lava lava lamp
indigo, violet and blue, can we meet where the edge is blur cause I am comin' atcha, like a bug eye heading for the burn
the truth is I can't stay away, no I wanna let you light my volcano
and maybe it's just my imagination, but you never know
because the shape of things to come is constantly changing
so let it, so let it, so let it flow
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
so let it, so let it, so let it ...
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sink to spring
Sip the wine
And bite the pie,
And be deep into
The act of eating.
Profound will be the joy.
In a field,
Joy will spring
When you sink
Into the deed.
08.01.2002, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Lava
Hot lava comes down big monkey goes floatin
On a boiler coming down like rain (oh yeah)
Hot lava cools down [big babble lectric cap(? )]
Going [loco(? )] with the boiling ?
[got lava I mean always take(? )] ready to serve
With the hand.... .... you lost and you found
[got light it goes inside some boulder ....(? )]
He wants nothing but the [tip(? )] on your crown piggy! pi-ggy!
Hot lava, lava
piggy!
[big kick a mule piston banged up and lets boil er(? )]
[like patty and the people in mind(? )]
Big boiler make hot gray matter not ....
Like the [dragon poppin two inside(? )]
piggy! pi-ggy!
Hot lava, lava
piggy! pi-ggy!
Hot lava
Hot lava
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two is the best combination.
A company of two is good for a walk or for a journey.
Of three, for a chat or for shopping.
If more than that, intimacy is lost.
Don’t move in gang for a pleasure trip.
29.05.2002, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Time's dominion
Mountain,
silent warrior,
bearing time’s scars
in its noble crags.
Ocean,
mountain’s mirror,
refusing time’s ravage,
without form and void.
Mountain,
decayed, honest,
embracing time
with dignity.
Ocean,
time’s subconscious,
internalising
polluted memories.
Tide,
ocean’s heartbeat
on the shoreline,
outside of time.
Mountain,
living.
Ocean,
dying.
Its soul unfurling
to time’s dominion.
Perumaal 103-108
103 Child divine Thine venture where killed Kaaliya
Butter Thine thievery where melted from houses
Mighty mouth Thine Yashoda where visioned creation whole
Rukmani, Sathyabhama where with Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of Gokulam
That fondles in pasuram Perialvar
Hey Navamohanakrishna, vision, I surrender
104 Empire Thine where reigned righteous
Escaping poisoned wherefrom Mewar Meera surrendered
Benevolent in Thine grace where Meera merged
Where with Srilakshmi, Rukmani Thee favouring
To Thou abode that of Thirudwarakai
That clothed where Thine mercy Draupati
Hey Kalyananarayana, vision I surrender
105 His dense penance where Garuda desired Thine Narasimha
So did Thee where with nine allocations
Split meaningful where for nine Narasimhas
Amritavalli, Senjulakshmi where with Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thirusingavelkundram(Ahobilam)
That extoles flagmast where Thine saving Adisankara highly
Hey Prahladavarada, Narasimha, vision, I surrender
106 Brigu's fault where exiled Thee to tamarind abode
Found later where to wed Padmavati
Thence to conjoin where in Thine heart Lakshmi
Where with Pundarikavalli Thee blessing
To Thou abode that of Thiruvenkatam
That decks in seven whorls Thine bed Adisesha
Hey Govindaraja, Balaji, vision, I surrender
107 Where Thou beginning, where Thou pausing
The hub of cosmic creation
In white pervasion where reclining Thee on Adisesha
Kadalmagal.Bhoomidevi where with Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of Thiruparkadal
That awaiting souls where Thine grace rescues
Hey Parkadalvanna, vision my soul surrendering
108 Salvaged souls where serving Thee
Their presence in Thine pleasance where immortal
Thine fulgency where preaching bliss ultimatum
Where with Periapiratti Thee reigning
To Thou abode that of Vaikuntam
That from this muddy haven to Thine my pleadings
Hey Paramapadanatha, vision, I surrender, surrender
This Perumaal series is about the 108 shrines of Lord Vishnu
This is not a translated work of hymns but poetry mine with samples of mythological reference
Out of the 108 shrines,106 are earthly pilgrimage spots and the final two are heavenly abodes
which can be reached only by highly devout ascetics and celestial beings
Reference- '108 Vainava Divyadesa Sthala Varalaru ' by Dr.Vainava sudaraazhi A.EthirajanB.A-Karaikudi-Published by Sri Vainava Sidhanta Noorpadhippu Kazhagam
poem by Indira Renganathan
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I Plucked A Rose From A Garden Green......
By Murtaza Abt
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
Of beauty never felt or seen,
Hoping that it would never wilt,
And always be as always been.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
with a happy blissful heart,
And promised i would hold it tight,
And never would we part.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
But little did i know,
That not in endless love and care,
But gardens do they grow.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And took it home with me,
But little did it stay the way,
The way t'was meant to be.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to grieve,
Over gardens green and meadows lush,
As it was sad to leave.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to wilt,
And wither in that unknown land,
it filled my heart with guilt.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to die,
For happiness i had only asked,
But i began to cry.
....................................
I have p L ucked y O u from a garden green,
Your beauty i VE never felt or seen,
Hoping that YOU will never wilt,
And always be as always been.
09/Nov/09
poem by Murtaza Abt
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Glory, the darling.
After parting,
You kept me by letters.
After a lapse,
You renewed it by a call.
After a gap,
You paid me a visit en rout.
A little later,
You acknowledged my love poem.
Today, hearing my return,
You came down to see me.
A good relation.
We both are not the same sex.
Is not it more
Than a mere good relation?
We are unexpressive.
Does it mean we didn’t express?
29.05.2002, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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St. Helens
This volcanic mountain stands in great majesty
Pregnant with knowledge o'er time
Upon the threshold of birthing baskests of lava filled knowledge
Todays Pilgrims take on its steep climb;
Longing for answers of its history
Of this planet and perhaps e'en beyond
At the base of this most gand mountain
The Pilgrims kneel in awe of what has been found;
Cavernous caves formed o'er the years
Tiny echos of the pilgrims voices are heard
Nearby-birds in a nest-make for the best
Flying 'neath the mountain are the Bluebirds;
In the space surrounding this mountain
Multiple eulogies are played in the thin air
But with nary a casket only knowledge filled lava baskets
Words of knowledge of the mountain now lay bare;
Mount Saint Helens
In Remembrance of Her Eruption in 1980
And how many of my aunts and uncles
Had to move further away because of the
Volcanic ash and debris in the air.
poem by Theodora Onken
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Bowl full of sky is in my mind.
I took it upon myself one day,
To fill a bowl with sky
I scooped the vast space with a spoon,
The sparkling blue stars brought tears to my eyes.
I took a bite out of the sky
It crunched and melted and fizzed
It reminded me of the days of life
I had experienced until this.
It had a taste I cannot describe
In just these words
I realized how bleak life is
To not imagine it first.
The experience had frightened me,
yet,
I was so happy,
I cried
I felt that I had to write
About my bowl of sky
Now, I might be greedy,
For stealing from the sky,
But the sky will never, ever end
Just as long as it is in my mind.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Soft And Hard
Soft and hard words
There in the dictionary
Soft and hard
In a man beautify him
Soft and hard
In right place and
In right time
Make the country
Most powerful
And soft and hard
Are the ingredients
Of smart power strategy.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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O Singer of the epic war history
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of life, of liberation hoary,
Of brazen battlefields, long desolate,
O Singer of Gita's ageless glory.
Outlived hast the song thine endless story,
Though war heroes survive still in state,
Frustrated of fate but scarce sorry,
O Singer of the epic war history.
Yudhishthir's dharma, Arjun's archery,
Bheeshma's oath, Bhima's bravery,
Scarce confined remain to Pearly Gate,
And sung are with Gita's ageless glory.
And ye O bard, two roles in one carry:
Of poet laureate and progenitor great,
O ye born in a river ferry,
O Singer of the epic war history
Ye sang thine epic in such swell flurry,
Ganesha, if not quite inadequate,
Lost in thought, felt somewhat weary,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory,
Not mine ‘lone, any pen-pusher's worry
‘Tis to try even to translate,
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory.
_______________________________________ __
This is a Villanelle a bit way out. The tercet,
that normally becomes a quatrain only in the last
stanza, is here so in all. Also, the first and the third
lines of the first stanza are repeated with some
modifications.
_____________________________________________ ______
- Villanelle | 02.10.11 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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Sonnet: The Volcanic Eruption
Mount Etna is alive, awake once more;
It spews forth red-hot lava by the tonnes;
Hell has broken loose again, in its core;
The neighbourhood is praying hard for once!
The lava flows over the mountain-side;
And destroys flora, fauna by its flood;
And countless are the beasts that may have died;
In forest-fires and the blazing mud!
The air is smoke and dust-laden and hot;
It settles on the tenements, landscape;
Alas! From havoc Mother Nature wrought,
People barely manage to just escape!
But why does Nature snort Dragon-like fires,
That light a million mega-funeral pyres?
poem by John Celes
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Memories (two)
memories (this poem with salema in collaboration)
The sweet breeze of your words hit
the wall of my heart, some are soft
and some are hard, soft are those still
I remember, hard ones are sent to
fetch some soothing water your velvety
smell with that of the angel works like
a balm on the wounds of the moment
throwing sadness to the salty ocean,
the freshness of your departure burns
me like a missile, I hiccup with
the drink of your guerilla smile, the
parody presence of you in the memory
of mine is a massacre of my mediocre
sense, so I faint and go deep to the
unconsciousness to crash the beauty
of my life in the put out light I explode
darkness to crumble all the weapons
of amazing love violence, I rise again
to my senses to water and to embrace
the iron tree of your remembrance.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Broken Wings (Lyrics)
No body known’s who I truly am,
I’ve never felt this way before,
Why do things turn out wrong?
With the way of this open door,
My broken wings were in my back,
Till I let them extract,
I’m flying through the air,
With my hair everywhere,
Why do people have to know?
What do they have to say?
Why can’t they leave me alone?
From now till the end,
My broken wings were in my back,
Till I let them extract,
I’m flying through the air,
With my hair everywhere,
Why do I live like this?
It’s like the world don’t exist,
I and you were we at,
It’s like the day is a fact,
My broken wings were in my back,
Till I let them extract,
I’m flying through the air,
With my hair everywhere,
No body known’s who I truly am,
What do people have to say?
Why do they hide from me?
Are they scared of what they see?
My broken wings were in my back,
Till I let them extract,
I’m flying through the air,
With my hair everywhere,
poem by Lorissa Cowan
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Winter Sky
Ice-chips plucked whole from the smoke,
the past week’s stars all frozen in flight,
Head over heels the skater’s club goes,
clinking its rink with the peal of night.
Step slow, slower, slow-er, skater,
pride carving its trace as you race by.
each turn’s a constellation cut there,
scratched by a skate in Norway’s sky.
The air is fettered in frozen iron.
Oh, skaters! There – it’s all the same,
that, like snake’s eyes set in ivory,
night’s on earth, a domino game:
that moon, a numb hound’s tongue
is there, frozen tight: that mouths like
the forgers of coins’ – are stung,
filled with lava of breathtaking ice.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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