Ultimately Paranoid
I wanted to rely on my aunts
If at all I lose my parents.
I weaned away.
I depended on brothers and sisters,
Who should have come to my rescue.
I weaned away.
I bent on my in-laws,
Who I thought would bail me out.
I weaned away.
I was blind on many upper kin
To seek for their help, while with sins.
I weaned away.
I bet on my own offspring,
On whom I could recline, on senescence.
I weaned away.
I landed in asylum,
Where I am not alone but lonely.
I wean not anymore.
I grew paranoid,
Repenting the guilt and lamenting the wastes
To ever wean away.
20.07.97
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
He looks as though he's been weaned on a pickle.
quote by Alice Roosevelt Longworth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the child is weaned, they say goodbye to the nurse.
As a result of half a century of Soviet rule people have been weaned from a belief in human kindness.
quote by Svetlana Alliluyeva
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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March, mean, son of an ogre! You've taken all my suckling lambs and left only one weaned lamb. - Oh April, my brother, give me two days, because alone, I don't have them.
Being Weaned Away
I remember those days when I was innocent.
I was still breast feeding at the time.
And believed even then,
This was the kind of life to enjoy!
The most difficult part about being innocent,
Is being weaned away from it.
The trappings of reality begin to soon enfold.
And obstacles are noticed for their durability.
When my personality began to be developed,
Demands on my luxurious time...
Helped create my moods with a chosen attitude.
Soon after,
I learned that expressing intelligence...
Can become problematic.
Others see this as a weapon they can use,
When doing and saying the most devious things possible.
As if to test one's awareness of their misdeeds...
And mental agility!
I remember those days when I was innocent.
I was still breast feeding at the time.
And believed even then,
This was the kind of life to enjoy!
The most difficult part about being innocent,
Is being weaned away from it.
The trappings of reality begin to soon enfold.
And obstacles are noticed for their durability.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Shades Of Love
I am behind the shades of love and,
You are respected by Yezreel and Laish;
But i am weaned from the milk and drawn from the breasts,
And like the first fruit of love before summer.
Natalya and i will respect you and,
Of your muse so presented to me like a gift!
Because i am behind the shades of your love,
And i will do anything for you my sweet one.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Douglas
Winter blues and summer's love,
Be thankful to someone who cares for you;
For your word is a lamp unto my feet.
I am on the White House's lawn to share my views,
But do unto others as you expect then to do unto you;
For the genesis of my birth is to the world so sweet.
To the ruling elite,
And to move around the clock;
For the destruction of the poor is their poverty.
Hatred stirs up strifes and love covers up sins,
So do the right thing always oh Douglas!
For as a child is weaned, so is my sweet love towards you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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All of My Greatest Thanks!
Let my heart speaks to you now, my brothers
Sisters who raised me by the absence of mother
That weaned my childhood's ignorance of death
And of which love I had yet to learn since birth
My mind while it's still unsullied to its buoy
Fields of memories wherein my boyhood a coy
Pieces of right and wrong, like a puzzle to fit
One picture, at the end, you molded me right
Though I envy your children, siblings of my father
You shared all your wisdom as if I am one of yours
To grandpa who stilled me yet all my fears
And grandma who embraced me to be braver
Siblings of my mother you all fed my hunger
Though I know not I was a bee of your shelter
To grandma who taught me the value of sharing
And the diktat of how to wait with patience
Indeed, my heart leaves no one was part of me
Your love that nurtured my growth and pride
But the truth to which I confer my greatest thanks
My father, my eldest sister: the braces of my stand
My wife and my two sons: the sources of my faith
Inspirational friends, cousins, nieces and nephews
Uncles and Aunts, you are all my wings of joy
And to God, this heart has now spoken the truth
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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October Musings, 1866
Silent, grave, subdued, and sober,
Month beloved, my own October!
Resting in thy peaceful arms,
Seeing not, I feel thy charms-
Feel upon my withered cheek
Thy gentle breath, thy whispers meek;
Tell of Autumn's latest sheaves,
Songless woods, and falling leaves-
Nature's floral wreath despoiled;
Hueless, scentless, matted, soiled,
Fall her tresses thin and gray,
Bending to October's sway.
Summer sun with thirsty beams
Drinking dry the pools and streams:
Where thy fervid glories now,
The burning splendours of thy brow?
Veiled effulgence now is thine,
Tender radiance, half divine;
This dreamy quiet, this stilly calm,
Sheds around a soothing balm.
Hushed beneath the influence mild,
My soul is like a weanèd child-
Weaned from earth's low cares and joys,
Vain pursuits, and worthless toys.
Life's short race is nearly run,
And the goal will soon be won;
Still I bear in heart and mind
The wants and sufferings of my kind.
Sad, yet sweet, to moralise
'Neath October's solemn skies,
When the finger of decay
Points the year's declining day;
Like the hand upon the wall,
'Born to die,' inscribes on all:
Flowers decayed and earth defiled,
Where of late they bloomed and smiled;
Fields and wood's dim, bare, and gray,
In every aspect of decay,
Tell me that I too must die-
In cold decay and darkness lie,
Till He, whose name I love and trust,
Shall wake to life my sleeping dust.
poem by Janet Hamilton
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Yamson
Yamson,
What can you say about the missing chief?
And like receiving and being received;
For the sun is taking a nap after a hard day's job.
To be weaned as a human being and,
To learn many tricks in this life;
But i was fed on my mother's milk.
Yamson,
The love of the mother is forever!
And from birth to the first tender of love and care;
But the Sabbath of rest is for the land and,
Try to correct your children to give you rest.
There is more between the legs than they actually shows,
So do not go back into a tail's spin!
For the truth will always find a way,
And i will be the one to lead you on.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Operation- an acrostic poetry
Operation scheduled for today postponed for next day
Patient's anxiety could not be weaned away
Experts came again to check their specialised part of the anatomy
Rating the patient fit for the surgery
All of a sudden the OT activated to the brim
Tension mounted on paramedics and the nearest kin
In the OT the patient was ushered in without time to waste
Oxygen was administered with emergent haste, but
None could stop the soul to exit to rest in peace above.
-----xxxx-----
Copyright reserved by Tribhawan Kaul
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Touched by an Angel
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
poem by Maya Angelou
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Hymn 47
Death of kindred improved.
Zech. 1:5.
Must friends and kindred droop and die,
And helpers be withdrawn?
While sorrow with a weeping eye
Counts up our comforts gone?
Be thou our comfort, mighty God!
Our helper and our friend;
Nor leave us in this dangerous road,
Till all our trials end.
O may our feet pursue the way
Our pious fathers led!
With love and holy zeal obey
The counsels of the dead.
Let us be weaned from all below,
Let hope our grief expel,
While death invites our souls to go
Where our best kindred dwell.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Quiet, Lord, My Froward Heart
Quiet, Lord, my froward heart,
Make me teachable and mild;
Upright, simple, free from art,
Make me as a weaned child;
From distrust and envy free,
Pleased with all that pleaseth Thee.
What Thou shalt to-day provide,
Let me as a child receive;
What to-morrow may betide,
Calmly to thy wisdom leave:
'Tis enough that Thou wilt care;
Why should I the burden bear?
As a little child relies
On a care beyond his own;
Knows he's neither strong no wise;
Fears to stir a step alone;
Let me thus with Thee abide,
As my Father, Guard, and Guide.
poem by John Newton
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Sanctuary
HIGH above hate I dwell:
O storms! farewell.
Though at my sill your daggered thunders play,
Lawless and loud to-morrow as to-day,
To me they sound more small
Than a young fay’s footfall:
Soft and far-sunken, forty fathoms low
In Long Ago,
And winnowed into silence on that wind
Which takes wars like a dust, and leaves but love behind.
Higher Felicity
Doth climb to me,
And bank me in with turf and marjoram
Such as bees lip, or the new-weanëd lamb;
With golden barberry-wreath,
And bluets thick beneath;
One grosbeak, too, mid apple-buds a guest
With bud-red breast,
Is singing, singing! All the hells that rage
Float less than April fog below our hermitage.
poem by Louise Imogen Guiney
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Examples of Early Piety
What blest examples do I find
Writ in the Word of Truth
Of children that began to mind
Religion in their youth!
Jesus, who reigns above the sky,
And keeps the world in awe,
Was once a child as young as I,
And kept His Father's law.
At twelve years old he talked with men,
The Jews all wondering stand;
Yet He obeyed his Mother then,
And came at her command.
Children a sweet hosanna sung,
And blest their Savior's name;
They gave Him honor with their tongue,
While scribes and priests blaspheme.
Samuel the child was weaned and brought
To wait upon the Lord:
Young Timothy betimes was taught
To know his holy Word.
Then why should I so long delay
What others learnt so soon?
I would not pass another day
Without this work begun.
poem by Isaac Watts
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His vocabulary
her vocabulary
every word fits into its space
like a classroom
her vocabulary
each word carries its own weight
as it files into my mind
her vocabulary
notes of the morning birds
that strain to sing
her vocabulary
my mind polished
like silver
her vocabulary
the calisthenics of her mind
in my mind
her vocabulary
the precision of her mind
etched onto my heart
her vocabulary
sublime as a glass of
evening whisky
her vocabulary
strikes like
glitters of diamonds
his vocabulary
my brain has no space
to breathe
his vocabulary
every piece of writing
has become a thesis
his vocabulary
he asks to take him
as he is
his vocabulary
she feels he is not true
to his own feelings
his vocabulary
she asks it is weaned from
dictionary or experience
his vocabulary
she asks he is out to impress
or express
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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To England
Men deemed thee fallen, did they? fallen like Rome,
Coiled into self to foil a Vandal throng:
Not wholly shorn of strength, but vainly strong;
Weaned from thy fame by a too happy home,
Scanning the ridges of thy teeming loam,
Counting thy flocks, humming thy harvest song,
Callous, because thyself secure, 'gainst wrong,
Behind the impassable fences of the foam!
The dupes! Thou dost but stand erect, and lo!
The nations cluster round; and while the horde
Of wolfish backs slouch homeward to their snow,
Thou, 'mid thy sheaves in peaceful seasons stored,
Towerest supreme, victor without a blow,
Smilingly leaning on thy undrawn sword!
poem by Alfred Austin
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Good Morrow
I wonder, by my truth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved; were we not weaned till then,
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den?
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
And now good morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love, all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room, an everywhere.
Let sead discoveries to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to others, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess our world; each hath one and is one.
My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp North, without declining West?
Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one; or thou and I
Love so alike that none do slacken, none can die.
poem by John Donne
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Hoodoo / Voodoo Medicine Man
Silence, I'm ashamed, I was left as a child
Dragged from the cradle, I was weaned in the wild
Ran with the wolf pack, flesh torn to shreds
In the compensations, I was left there for dead
Read it in the paper it ain't fair
You know who today don't seem to care
Livin', lovin', gettin' loose
Masturbatin' with a noose
Now someone's kickin' out the chair
Some kind of voodoo
Come across this land
Some kind of voodoo
Be the medicine man
Everybody's lookin' at the sky
Don't believe the cover-ups and lies
They been tellin' us since birth
Pissin' off old Mother Earth
My gones are bygones prophesied
Some kind of voodoo
Come across this land
Some kind of hoodoo
Be the medicine man
Get ready
Wonder should I go or should I stay
'Cause what we got ain't workin' anyway
I did my best, God knows I tried
I feel like I been crucified
Why did you, why did you, why did you take it all away
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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