Your love makes me shy.
You paid me a visit as per my word
Yesterday. Lovelier than you were
In the last visit; you were in animation.
We talked less and transmitted more.
The most passionate woman I ever
Met, you deserved to a better match
Who could keep you fed with passion.
In that case, can you be that receptive?
26.05.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
No woman is an orphan.
A woman is not an orphan
When by the husband is thrown.
Men are ready to visit the lawn
For her heart if not for her bone.
03.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lustful minds are treacherous.
Today you paid me a family visit
We did not talk to each other
The way we used to. You hardly spoke
Yet, we vibrated our feelings each other.
I am happy, both families are closer.
A safe platform to stand on.
25.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Louisa
Louisa, make it a point to visit Ghana;
For the nature is there for you to admire.
Of the Bobiri Forest and Betterfly Sanctuary to visit,
Of the Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary to visit,
Of the Xavi Bird Watching Sanctuary to visit,
Of the Kakum National Park to visit,
Of the Aburi Botanical Gardens to visit,
Of the Bui National Park to visit,
Of the Ankasa Nature Park to visit,
Of the Bonsu Arboretum Park to visit,
Of the Digya National Park to visit,
And to sit under a broom tree with us;
Like a reed shaking in the water of love.
Louisa, make a trip to Ghana and see this lovely place;
For the nature is there for you to admire.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Starving to please
Far, you please her eyes.
Near, you please her ears.
Away, you fill her thoughts.
With her, you tinkle her passion.
Over her, you comfort her.
No returns.
To please a woman is to please the self.
03.05.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Believe
Valerie solanis took the elevator
Got off at the 4th floor
Valerie solanis took the elevator
Got off at the 4th floor
She pointed the gun at andy saying
You cannot control me anymore
I believe theres got to be some retribution
I believe an eye for an eye is elemental
I believe that somethings wrong if shes alive right now
Valerie solanis took three steps
Pointing at the floor
Valerie solanis waved her gun
Pointing at the floor
From inside her idiot madness spoke and bang
Andy fell onto the floor
I believe lifes serious enough for retribution
I believe being sick is no excuse and -
I believe I wouldve pulled the switch on her myself
When they got him to the hospital
His pulse was gone they thought that he was dead
His guts were pouring from his wounds
Onto the floor they thought that he was dead
Not until years later would
The hospital do to him what she could not
What she could not
Where were you, you didnt come to see me
Andy said, I think I died, why didnt you come to see me
Andy said, it hurt so much, they took blood from my hand
I believe theres got to be some retribution
I believe theres got to be some retribution
I believe we are all the poorer for it now
Visit me, visit me
Visit me, visit me
Visit me, why didnt you visit me
Visit me, why didnt you visit me
Visit me, visit me
Visit me, why didnt you visit me
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To visit templesTo visit temples
I visit temples and conduct rites
More to please the priest than the deities.
I visit temples and do sacrifices
More to bribe the God than cleanse myself.
I visit temples and do worships
More to fake being pious than be so.
I visit temples and give offerings
To make clean myself of sins for fresh ones.
18.01.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mission of both sex
The mission of a woman
In her passion for sex
Terminates with mere courtship
Like jasmine flowers sans seeding.
Only adjunct is the courtship
To a man, whose mission
Is longing, with a woman, for fusion,
Like a fruit bearing tree.
Love episodes end with flowers.
Woman is fed; man starved.
26.04.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Love Sensual Women
I love sensual women and not passionate ones. A passionate woman closes her eyes, moans and shouts and the enjoyment of a passionate woman is blind.
A passionate woman writhes about, grabs you with her hands without looking where, clasps you, kisses you, even bites you and hurries to reach her climax as soon as she can. She has no time to display her sexual organs, no time to examine, touch with the hand and kiss your sexual organs, she is in such a hurry to slake her passion. Having slaked her passion, the passionate woman will fall asleep. The sexual organs of a passionate woman are dry. A passionate woman is always in some way or another mannish.
The sensual woman is always feminine.
Her contours are rounded and abundant.
The sensual woman rarely reaches a blind passion. She savours sexual enjoyment.
The sensual woman is always a woman and even in an unaroused state her sexual organs are moist. She has to wear a bandage on her sexual organs, so as not to soak them with moisture.
When she takes the bandage off in the evening, the bandage is so wet that it can be squeezed out.
Thanks to such an abundance of juices, the sexual organs of a sensual woman give off a slight, pleasant smell which increases strongly when the sensual woman is aroused. Then the juice from her sexual organs is secreted in a syrupy stream.
A sensual woman likes you to examine her sexual organs.
poem by Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How important a woman is!
Visit a funeral where it was of a man.
Visit a funeral where it was of his wife.
Take attendance and count the mourners.
It will tell how important the woman had been.
19.01.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Move the unmoved
A street cow is least disturbed
By the passers by who cross by-
So is she, by those who cross by
Her house, whose doors and kitchen
Open to the lane where she ambles.
It was my mission to cross her house
But not in focus was her vision.
Today, she made allowance.
Yes, at the approach of my visit,
She made her presence at the door,
To take note of me and give hers.
To move the unmoved is a thrill.
03.05.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shangri-La Hotel
A visit to Shangri-La Hotel,
To my lover's room;
A visit to Shangri-La Hotel,
Like the eyes of an elephant;
I want to be in everybody's shoes but,
My mind is bigger than my shoes.
Like a message to the blue bears,
Like amessage to the white bears,
Like a message to the black bears,
LIke a message to the brown bears,
Keep it clean and soft;
a simple life to the muse of love.
A visit to my lover's room,
I am always moving and i don't look back;
Forward ever!
A visit to my lover's room,
I am always moving without looking back;
Backwards never!
A visit to my lover's room,
I know my back could be crooked;
But, i always move on.
I will surely reach to the end one day,
Like a visit to Shangri-La Hotel;
Forward ever, backwards never.
There comes a time when all seems so lost but,
Don't give up on your dreams in this life;
Like a marriage in the rain,
I do have a lover to visit.
The visit of my lover's room is like,
A love song in the rain;
The visit to my lover's room is like,
To marry in the rain;
The visit to my lover's room is like,
To make love in the rain;
The visit to my lover's room is like,
To walk naked in the rain;
The visit to my lover's room is like,
To sing in the rain;
Life is like that at times and,
I have my mind on you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The creative and the receptive
To sing is creative; to listen is receptive.
To play is creative; to watch is receptive.
To write is creative; to read is receptive.
In sex, man is creative and woman, receptive.
21.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Only Takes One To Visit
It only takes one to visit,
For that one to realize...
The scope of the mental illness there.
Just one visit,
And those aware of bigotry and racism...
Regardless of the beauty welcomed,
With the changing of each season...
What is window dressed,
Covers with success the evilness.
It only takes one to visit,
To witness the depth of ineptness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Summer Comes to Visit
There is no mistaking it,
When a heat stirs in the mix.
It is Summertime that comes.
And passions bloom,
To become part of it.
Who goes through a Summer,
Without feeling a touch of joy?
Who does not witness a sense of freedom...
With an adventure meant,
To be explored and not annoy!
There is no mistaking it,
This passion felt and has come to sit...
In the heated mix of Summer.
Who can not escape,
To excuse themselves from reason...
Not to have fun and participate.
When Summer is done and over,
Our memories of it...
Seem to linger,
And not drift away as quick.
When Summer comes to visit,
We wish these days,
Stay.
When Summer comes to visit,
We wish these days,
Stay.
When Summer comes to visit,
We wish these days,
Would stay...
Forever.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heart Beating In Time
Each day without fail
the road would visit the house
(it was the only house the road knew)
and the house too
would look forward to
the road’s visit.
Over the years they became
good friends.
Then one day the house died
from lack of people
and was torn down
until it was only
memory and rubble.
The road continued to visit it
but could only stare into empty space
at the place where the house
had been.
The road was lonely.
At night it talked to
the landscape and the stars
but life was never the same
again.
One day the road just up and died
from lack of use.
Now only the dream
of a memory exists
and the landscape and stars
talk to themselves
and try to remember
what it is...they have
forgot.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man differs from woman
A man can love two women
At a time in equal measures
A woman may subscribe to it.
A woman can, two men
Simultaneously in turn.
A man cannot tolerate it.
21.06.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Test not the love
There is no instance
That without the substance
Of sex can there be born
Love of a woman
For men of her choice.
No woman admits it.
When tested by men, she spits.
Men are content without a test.
02.05.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Visit For As Long As You Wish
You may visit upon this land.
But to force debate of its direction...
Is not a matter to be question.
Or demand answers you expect.
Because you believe another way,
For its inhabitants is best.
You may visit for as long as you wish.
Enjoy the ambiance, hospitality...
And the peacefulness.
But suggestions from you,
Regarding the enhancements done...
To the view and our lifestyles too?
For us is not accepted.
Conflicts on this land...
You will not inject.
If you have motives and plans for this...
You will be ushered to experience,
A respected yet definite sudden exit.
We are not in need,
For a financed confusion that infuses deceit.
To have you label it democracy.
You may visit for as long as you wish.
And when your visit is finished...
You will leave and that will be it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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