Whom else?
Don’t denounce your children.
Whom else would you pronounce
As heirs to you after your death?
19.02.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Feeling Does Not Linger
As strange as my name...
I can't describe this feeling.
I can't declare it stays the same.
This feeling does not linger.
I do have goals and aims.
Like others I see near me.
But 'who' they are remains unclaimed.
And that too changes.
Like storm clouds that bring rain.
We are more than what we seem.
Much more than given names.
And few care to pronounce them.
Some even denounce,
Them.
We are bigger than our dreams.
When each one comes to pass...
We seek one more to grasp.
And that one doesn't stay,
To last.
We are more than what we seem.
Much more than given names.
And few care to pronounce them.
Some even denounce,
Them.
As strange as my name...
I can't describe this feeling.
I can't declare it stays the same.
This feeling does not linger.
Like my needs.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beyond to one’s heir
I loved his mother, my aunt,
Who had done a lot to me,
But I failed to care about him.
I loved her father, my uncle,
Who had done a lot to me,
But I have no contact with her.
I loved his father’s mother,
Who was my mother’s mother,
But I chose to ignore him.
One does good thing to some
So that they would take care
Of one’s heirs on one’s exit.
Gratitude must not die with one
But travel to one’s heirs too.
25.08.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Oddest Words
When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no nonbeing can hold.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Great Mind
Is it feasible
When I babble
That I fanned fair
Alphabets at random in the air
And they came to caper
And settled on paper
In the form of the Muse—
A poem to use?
When even for this work of a dot
There exists a mind of sort
Is it tangible
To say ‘tis a gamble
That the stars in ether
At a random chance did appear
The Universe, Galaxies and Cosmos
All formed on their own from a mass?
Can I thus pronounce
And the Great Mind denounce?
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The evil remains
The wealth in enormity
Earned by the one mighty,
His heirs will divide.
The evil he did
Will remain his property
19.05.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Being As A Child
Parents brought their children to Christ one day
But others didn't like it-wante dto send them away
The Lord loved the children and had them stay
He was firm with the disciples-and had His say
'Children are welcome-the Kingdom is theirs
To join Me in Heaven and be My heirs
The Kingdom is yours but there is only one way
Be like these children nad you'll live there one day'
The words He spoke are true yet today
Even now there is only one way
Being like a child and trusting His Word
CLaiming Him as friend, Savior and Lord
So no matter your age when you come to Him
Come with childlike faith and He'll accept you in
(6/2/96)
I use a pseudonym, because my real name is very difficult to pronounce, to remember, and to spell. And many people who have been talking about me on television have yet to pronounce it correctly.
quote by Jeff Gannon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life of My Death
My only difference
Between life and afterlife
is my death
My only triumph
upon the whole universe
is my death
My only freedom
of thoughts from mind
is my death
My only distinction
from the angels and devils
is my death
My only decision
after all my decisions
is my death
But death is short-lived
and the thing that pleases me
is my death
Life always presents span
and the shortest spanned
is my death
I can grasp everything
but the thing out of my bounds
is my death...
08-03-2008
poem by Usman Hanif
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Of A Crow
Death Of A Crow
halloween night
in a city park
a dead crow
under an elm tree
I was there
standing alone
a flash light in hand
wet in autumn rain
looking
children in raincoat
passed by
a police car siren
wailed and faded
into distant darkness
no elegy
no dirge
no requiem
no tomb stone
a crow's death
is not tragic
and that is the tragedy
of the crow's death
Battered Suitcase, v 1, issue 3, oct 2008
poem by Suchoon Mo_
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God and Satan are in order.
I couldn’t but acknowledge Fortune
As I couldn’t denounce Fate
I couldn’t but admit Spirits
As I couldn’t ignore Ghosts
I couldn’t but belief God
As I couldn’t dethrone Satan.
All inventions are man’s necessity.
The invention of God and Satan by man
Is of no exception and in order.
04.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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2008
We are in 2008 and,
We are still fighting among ourselves;
This is year 2008 and,
We still kill each other with bombs!
We are in 2008 and,
We are still naked in the forest;
Year 2008 with the Olympic Games held in China and,
We still go to war!
We are in 2008 and,
We do claim to be the best of the human ever lived;
But, how many bombs have we thrown to each other?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Will Our Ultimate Heirs Be?
WHO WILL OUR ULTIMATE HEIRS BE?
Who will our ultimate heirs be
Will they even look like us?
Will they tolerate us
In all our backwardness?
Will they be known to us?
Will we be capable of understanding them?
Or will they just be strangers in the distance
Who if we are still here and after we are long gone
Remember us
As we remember
tree- shrews and bacteria?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You are a role model
Lavish with your children
And mean with your parents,
Pampering your children
And ignoring your parents,
You’ll be a role model of your children.
19.03.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is certainly safe, in view of the movement to the right of intellectuals and political thinkers, to pronounce the brain death of socialism.
quote by Norman Tebbit
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The sway of death
As long as I live death would not come;
As and when death comes I will not be there.
Must I dread the death? No, but yet I do.
20.07.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Great Children
Great-nephews married to the larger librarian,
His volumes mattered to him, his children were him;
These kids had missing demises, responsibility occurred,
Inclined to be highly medical and full of flair.
The pressing question lacked content, only lurking presence
Mastered them, children required passes for their examination;
Betrayed and undignified, they were heirs of a realm
They proceeded to acquire and master for themselves.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freelanced Interpretations
So uncomfortable they are!
In their own skins.
So uncomfortable you wouldn't know it.
But listen to them passing judgement.
Listen to them quote scripture.
And begin to give their freelanced interpretations.
Listen to them denounce the lives of others.
And their choices made.
Then listen to them smugly admit,
In high self satisfied indulgence...
What they will or will not do...'IF'
The situation called for their 'qualified'
Decision making techniques!
Of course found common...
On accepted garbaged and trashed piled streets.
And...
'If' a choice made was not taken upon their advice?
How dare
Should that 'someone'
Have that much independence?
And it will be mentioned...
Until forgiveness is begged!
Then...
These sheltered from reality 'predictables',
Pronounce an undying love and closeness to God!
Enough to turn a listener's stomach!
If an excuse hasn't already been made earlier to leave!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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