Tri-women
Oorvasy is tempting;
Janaky lacks pleasing;
Sakuntala is the both.
Oorvasi lacks love;
Janaky lacks lust;
Sakuntala has the both.
Of oorvasi you’re tired;
Of janaky you’re bored;
Of sakuntala you’re stirred.
You’re mad of oorvasi;
You’re proud of janaky;
You’re glad of sakuntala.
Oorvasi is a waterfall;
Janaky is a pond;
Sakuntala is a river.
Flirt with Oorvasi,
Consort with Janaky,
If not done with Sakuntala
Girls, Mould as Sakuntala
26.04.2002, pakd
[Urvasi is Devas’ beauty, Seetha is virtuous queen and Sakuntal is king’s lovely wom
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beauty lies in the skill of author.
Sakuntala was most beautiful.
No heroine was as beautified as she.
Poet Kalidasa was at his best
When he wrote of Sakuntala,
Her look, her curve, her verve.
Was she that much beautiful
Or was he that much skillful?
Heroines are made enormous
To show the prowess of the writers.
29.05.2001, Berhampur
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Catharsis is the writers’ recourse.
I write of her whom I love which I shouldn’t.
I write of her as I couldn’t reach her nest.
I write of her as I couldn’t write to her.
Kalidasa spat his lust in his Sakuntala
(Kalidasa was a Sanskrit poet who wrote a love epic Sakuntala)
14.05.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beauties of the world
Beauties unheard are numerous.
The heard are such as Helen of Troy,
Sakuntala and Cleopatra.
Beauties unseen are countless.
Those seen are such as Aiswraya Roy,
Jacqueline Kennedy and Marlin Monroe.
Beauties untouched are numberless.
The touched are such as the spouse,
The beloved ones and harlots.
Ability to see beauty
In women and get obsessed with it
Is the prerogative of man.
[ Sakuntala is a character in a Sanskrit play by same name by the poet, Kalidasa ]
25.01.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Poem is the thirst of the poet
Sakuntala was not as much a beauty.
Poet Kalidasa made her so.
He did it to show his mettle
And thirst in his Sakuntalam
01.12.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Women Know Women
Juliet’s longing, Sakuntala’s pining,
Are wishes of men who wrote those classics.
They could have been different
Had the writers been women.
(25.06.2004)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Thirsts modulate cries
That time when John Keats and Kalidas lived
Women were not that sophisticated,
That exposed to men and that liberal.
Had Keats and Kalidas lived this time
Things would not have been different
In their expression of lust for women
As men are not as thirsty and starving
As they were that time. Thirsts modulate cries.
04.02.2002, Pakd
[Kalidas is equally s sensual poet in Sanskrit,
Whose works. Sakuntala and Raguvamsa are famous]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Oh My Splendour
You bring me back,
oh my young splendor,
the springs I lost
And echo in my ears
the sweet melodies
of cuckoos I heard last
In my dream garden
new leaves sprout,
Exotic hues blossom
On a floral ramp of roses,
jasmines and chrysanthemums
I see you walking with a beam
clad in a white silk sari
That is flying and fluttering
in air carelessly
With all airs about
caressing your silkier skin
When you sashay towards me,
like Vana Devatha
Like Sakuntala,
on my knees I genuflect with awe;
My eyes eying your secrets,
my lips vying brazenly
With the buzzing honey bees
for your scents heavenly;
My both hands stretched
and palms full with flowers
I bow to your beauty
and with all my senses stammering
I utter, “Hi Sweetie, here is my tender offering! ! ! ”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Swearing is like any other music... If it is not done well, if it is not done with a fine and discriminating art, and vitalized with gracious and heartborn feeling, it lacks beauty, it lacks charm, it lacks expression, it lacks nobleness, it lacks majesty...
David Gridley in Indiantown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Who Lacks His Touch
She who lacks his touch
She with lack of trust
Only to remain in dust
She who wants no luck
What she would give for lust
She with lack of trust
Her eyes have bled with time
Her life not to remain in line
What she would give for lust
She who lacks his trust
Her image has began to change
Her reflection is not the same
Her grip tightens on the brush
She with lack of trust
This anger can not remain
Something has to change
She who lacks his trust
What she will do for lust
The knife once used for peeling
Now lay under her pillow
Her presence will now be felt
She who lacks his trust
The time has come
The final dance begun
She gets his final touch
What she has done for lust
poem by Morgan Bodden
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Sincerity outweighs.
Intelligence and beauty
Will fail a wife to hold her man
If she lacks sincerity.
If she lacks fidelity
Even a concubine will lose her man.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The husband who lacks affection is like a house that lacks a roof.
Just because a man lacks the use of his eyes doesn't mean he lacks vision.
quote by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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About The Good Quality
He is sincere who
Is calculative or
Lacks faith in himself.
He is faithful who
Is purposeful or
Lacks faith in himself.
Good quality
Is a strategy
Or from weakness.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A writer
Out of what, does a writer write?
Out of hatred, out of denial,
Out of failure, out of perversion,
Out of insult or out of neglect.
Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger, anguish and agony.
To bend his feelings in catharsis.
From what does he write?
From borrowings, being inspired,
Or pouring old wine into a new bottle.
For what purpose does he write?
For an applause, to show his skills
And to earn a place and money.
Why at all must he write?
For an idler, what else can he do?
What lacks in one’s writing?
His concern for you lacks.
Your vow to pursue it lacks.
He writes and forgets
You read and forget.
When you are gone and when he is gone
The relevance to his writings is gone.
Bubbles are formed and burst.
12.04.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Literature is the negative of photo
Literature mirrors not
What its society packs.
It mirrors what it lacks.
It is a negative reflector
And vacuum filler.
Slavery gave heroic epics.
Poverties pave for kingly epics.
Romance sprang from sexual taboo.
Eroticism clang of perversion
01.04.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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When a man lacks mental balance in pneumonia he is said to be delirious. When he lacks mental balance without the pneumonia, he is pronounced insane by all smart doctors.
quote by Martin H. Fischer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love is, Love is not
Love is not eternal lust.
Love is when you do
not feel repulsed when
your longterm partner
farts under the covers.
Love is not forever sexual
Love is when everything
edible has been eaten
yet you still come back for more.
Love is, what lust lacks.
poem by Not Long Left
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Not even girls want to be girls so long as our feminine archetype lacks force, strength, and power.
quote by William Moulton Marston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Manali - the Land of Gods
I always wondered why this place,
was called the land of Gods.
With harsh cold and mountain folds,
With loneliness and uneven moulds,
Without comforts and anything mod,
I didnýt know why it was called the Gods.
When I got the opportunity,
I decided to see,
Whether what I had heard was truth or hearsay.
Although I find it difficult to climb,
I agreed to join this treacherous mime.
When I arrived at the camp site,
I was dumbstruck and beholden with the sight,
Which stood before my very eyes.
Snow covered mountains, gushing streams, and the beautiful sunrise. And as I saw the various moods,
Of nature and it's various goods,
I slowly started to understand,
Why it is called the Land of God,
Despite the lack of anything mod.
Because the grass here is green,
And not the brown with which the cities teem.
Because the water here is pure,
And does not require a testing gear.
Because the birds here are free,
And not caged-in, as we see.
This land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Because the mountains here reach up to heaven,
And are not like the Sahyadris all paven.
Because the wind here spreads fragrance,
Not dust, smoke, and other jargon.
Because the flowers here naturally bloom,
And are not forced to grow in pots to face their doom.
That's why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Because the lakes here are blue,
And do not stink with the city stew.
Because the people here are simple,
And do not show off false smiles and dimples.
Because everything here is pure and natural,
This land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Because the sun sets over a spectacular horizon,
And does not have to hide behind concrete prisons.
Because the jungles here are full of trees,
Where all components of nature mingle free.
Because at night we can see the stars,
which are not blocked out by the city lights spread afar.
That's why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Seeing the Jogini waterfall,
And the Lammergeyer rock tall,
Listening about the Bhrugu Lake,
And the pleasure the effort gives and takes,
I came to know why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
And as I go on thinking,
In the spare moments lurking,
Where silently beside the stream,
Or by the tent rim,
I realize the reason,
Why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
And now the time has come for me,
To go back to my own city.
I yearn for this paradise,
Away from the city life.
Because this nature and me,
Share a similar spree,
For life and all it's blooms,
Adjusting to its glooms,
Now I see, why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
poem by Dipti Date Gokhale
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Princess Margaret
The sister of Queen Elizabeth,
The daughter of King George VI,
Princess Margaret was dead
In her seventy first year,
On Tenth February,2002,
Her mother a centurion,
Having attended her funeral.
She was not born to be the queen
But ruled as a beauty queen.
Group Captain Peter Townsend
Was fortunate to be her lover.
Princess Margaret was unfortunate
To forgo her love for the royalty.
She was more so to fit herself
With her unfit match;
She ended her life on a sad note.
Assets and beauty are not guarantees
For the success of a woman’s life.
A most covetable commodity
Had rusted, long unattended.
05.03.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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