Ch 05 On Love And Youth Story 15
The beautiful wife of a man died but her mother, a decrepit old hag, remained in the house on account of the dowry. The man saw no means of escaping from contact with her until a company of friends paid him a visit of condolence and one of them asked him how he bore the loss of his beloved. He replied: ‘It is not as painful not to see my wife as to see the mother of my wife.’
The rose has been destroyed and the thorn remained.
The treasure has been taken and the serpent left.
It is better that one’s eye be fixed on a spear-head
Than that it should behold the face of an enemy.
It is incumbent to sever connection with a thousand friends
Rather than to behold a single foe.
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That's The Sum Of It
I don't know which to mourn. Both have died on me, my wife and
my car. I feel strongly about my car, but I am also affected by my,
wife. Without my car, I can't leave the house to keep myself from
being alone. My wife gave me two children, both of whom, of course,
no longer live with us, as was to be expected, as we in our youth left
our parents behind. With my car, I could visit my children, when they
are not too busy.
Before she died, my wife urged me to find another woman. It's advice
I'd like to take up but not without a car. Without a car. I cannot find
myself another woman. That's the sum of it.
poem by David Ignatow
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Honour to Women
The woman is my mother,
She is the wife of my father.
The woman is my wife,
She is also the mother of my children.
I love my mother,
My children love their mother, too;
So, I respect my beloved wife.
Every woman with the veil of Mother is honoured by all,
Heaven lying at the feet of mother, every woman moves proudly.
poem by Supanul Islam Supan
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Togetherness Is Gone
My wife,
Stop cleaning the house
Please come here
To accompany me
My husband,
The house is dirty
We aren't able to pay the maid
You've already retired
My wife,
Don't cook
It's a holiday
Let us eat outside the home
My husband,
Don't eat outdoors
We need efficient
You've already retired
My wife,
Let's keep me company
Why the rush to sleep
It's still early
My husband,
I have to get up early
To clean the house
And prepare breakfast
My wife,
I have to go this morning
My friends were waiting
Long we don't meet
My husband,
Be careful on the road
Greetings for your friends
But, why not breakfast?
My wife,
You have fallen asleep last night
I see you sleeping soundly all
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I'm sorry
I don't welcome you home
But, why should sleep on the sofa?
My wife,
I have to go again
I have social activities
With my old friends
My husband,
Don't forget dinner at home
You look very dapper
Although not wear perfume
My wife,
sorry, we were very busy
I had dinner with friends
Happy dinner, dear
My husband,
I woke up too early
But you're not at home
Where are you?
My wife,
I came home at midnight
I have to go early in the morning
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I just finished washing clothes
I've found the clothes that you wear today
But, why the smell of perfume?
poem by Hasanudin Sofyan
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A Song for my Wife
my wife, my beloved wife...
my best friend forever
though it is not our anniversary,
yet there is nothing to celebrate,
I love you so much
I love you every day
until we die together
do you know until now,
we had the best family,
i had two beautiful daughters
my dear wife,
every time i wake up in the morning,
i always see your beautiful eyes
i love the warmth of you body
when ever you sleep in my arms
i feel your love so tender,
o my wife, my beloved wife
thought our marriage is not perfect
all I wish is to grow old with you.
poem by Rey Benipayo
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I'll Be Back
Messages come, and make us suffer
A letter comes, and keeps on asking…
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you this house is empty
The one's I trust
A form of rose
Has written me this letter
And has asked me
Someone's breaths, Someone's heartbeat
Someone's desires, Someone's smile
Someone's dull mornings, sleepy evenings
Lonely nights, unsaid words
Longing arms
And have asked her
Longing eyes
That...
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you this house is empty
The ones with love
My best friends
Have wrote and asked me
My village, my people
Old trees, White clouds
Green grass, my soil
My celebrations, my religion
My farms, my land
My parents and
My wife has asked
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you this country is lonely and empty
Sometimes a motherly river's letter comes by
And brings along
My childhood days, my games in the backyard
My mother's support, being protected
My mother's lullaby, the softness of her hands
The desire in the eyes, the worries in her words
Hard on the outside, Lovely from the inside
Acts my mom
And asks me in each letter
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you my lap is empty
Hey the passing wind tell me
Will u please do a little favor for me?
Go to my state and salute to my friends
In that state there's a road
Where my wife and kids live
Just tell them that I love them
Just tell them that I love them
Further down that road
Is my old mother
Just touch her feet and
Say my name in her ear
Hey the passing wind
Just to my friends
My wife and kids,
And my old mother
Send them this message
And tell them that…
I will come home
I will come home
The promise I made to…
My soil
To its colorful nature
To my mother lap
To my blossomed flowers
And to someone's heart…
I will fulfill it
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
poem by Kiara Davar
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The long time support
My mother loves me more than my wife.
I love my mother more than my wife.
I have decided to lean on my wife,
A stake lasting longer than my mother.
08.04.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Devil world
my wife and
my mother
fight
every day
at home
some time
on street
i did not ask
my mother
i am asking something
only my wife
wife say 'your mother
was bad...nasty...'
some bad words
my mother also
comment 'your wife bad
irrresptable person...'
many bad things
i was sad
too sad
i am not leaving on
earth
that time
i was leaving on
devil world...
you also leave
love devil
live devils...
for only my children...
for my states...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Lost In A House Fire
The loss of a child
The loss of a wife
Tis all the same as the loss of your own life
The loss of house and all that's inside
Tis all the same as if your whole soul had died
The loss of temper
Loss of faith and self-control
Tis all the same as knowing you have now grown very old
The loss of all memory when all is becalmed
When you find that your wife and child all safe and unharmed
poem by Neil Milliner
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They are still my kin
I didn’t go to him for any favour;
He remained my friend.
I didn’t do with him any business;
He remained my cousin.
I didn’t have with him any common roof;
He remained my brother.
I didn’t keep to her my eyes wide open;
She remained my wife.
I didn’t get from them any allowance;
They remained my children.
It is as good as they are none to me;
With the God’s grace I could keep them as mine.
19.09.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sorry, mother
Mother! I love you more than my wife.
Mother! You love me more than my wife does.
Mother! You will not outlive my wife,
Whom I need to lean on after you.
Sorry! I am listening to my wife.
23.07.2009.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mother, Mother
Mother, mother. My beloved mother,
I hope you know my love for you is like no other.
You do me every favour to show that you care,
And no matter what way we may argue,
I learn that your decisions are all so very fair.
You are a lovely woman and someone to behold,
You're more of a prize to me than any pot of gold.
I see you every day and I think to myself,
"Wow, this angel gave me life! "
This isn't all you're admired for
As I'm sure you make a brilliant wife.
You do every chore around the house;
Where do you get the time?
I'm just surprised that, after so much tiring work,
You're doing rather fine.
At heart, you are very beautiful;
A strong and responsible creature.
Since birth, I have regarded you
As my life-experience teacher.
I'm privileged that you became my mother,
That you were the only one;
You raised me to be me
And gave me hope as big as the sun.
Where would I be without you
Now that every year I've known you,
My endless love for you grew?
I so wish to thank you mother infinitely
For absolutely everything you've done for me.
I have the intention to owe you back, definitely.
Love is all I ask more from you
So you get some back by yours truly: Ste.
poem by Stephen Cahill Furlong
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The Problem between the In-Laws
Whether the experienced mother-in-law
or the newly qualified daughter-in-law,
both of them suffer from some cursed flaws.
As the cold war started since 'Creation'
has never ended between 'mother and wife'
the dude tries his best to convince them both.
He has to cock his ear towards the side
from which the whispers he hears
or else all of them have to be on fast.
If he colludes with one,
the other will go to hell.
If they play cat and mouse
what can this man do with feigning creatures?
His wife would conceal the healthy nuts
and at night before her husband, would ask:
' Why didn't you eat the Cashew nuts? '
and his mother would smirk and say:
'You youngones must eat the nuts to live long! '.
Each one surpasses the other in concocting
stories of joint and hip pain to evade the work
and confine him to do the household chores.
His wife blockmail him citing anti-dowry laws
and his mother warns him not to be hen-pecked.
He condones even his wife's misbehaviour of the past
to maintain peace in family life.
His child doesn't know where to go
between the mother and grandmother.
He trots in a 'Push and Pull' game
and the man should keep his doors shut in shame.
------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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She Matters Most, Your Wife
He was a Bee in a Rose-garden,
Seeking nectar from its flowers;
Unable to quench his thirst, one day,
He had soon forgotten that
She was a Rose in the same garden!
His wife- a flower so rare,
Beautiful beyond compare,
Ready to blossom some day,
To perfume his life some way.
To forgive is divine, err mundane;
To learn from other’s blunders- humane;
So, forget the past and start afresh,
For you aren’t too old today!
When the devil can get credit,
Why not your wife her bit?
’Tis better late than never
To make up with her some way!
For, se is a Rose in your own garden,
A flower so very, very rare,
Beautiful beyond compare,
Waiting to serve all through life,
She matters most, your Wife!
My first poem ever written that was readied
In May,1998, coinciding with India’s Pokhran II
Blasts and has remained unaltered till date
poem by John Celes
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Enemy Of All
A father is the enemy
When he left unpaid debts
A foolish son is the enemy of
His parents
A beautiful wife is the enemy of
Her husband
A mother with loose character
Is the enemy of her children
A greedy corrupt and notorious king
Is the enemy of the country men
O friend, remember
If you are not doing any good deeds
Beneficial to others you are the enemy
Of your soul and enemy of you
As you are destroying yourself
As your same soul is there in the body of all.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Broken heart
Poets have broken hearts
My wife Tapaswini alleged
And without broken hearts
No one would be a poet
My wife Tapaswini clarified.
The poet wonders in his world
The poet work wonders through
His words and sentences
And my wife Tapaswini left
No space for my replied.
My wife Tapaswini left the place
Where I was and my wife Tapaswini
Could not reach me where I am
And the sparrow the crow all
Arranged their feast with joy
Where I am writing poem.
Where I was writing I was there
Where I am writing I am there
My wife Tapaswini always with me
I was not with my wife Tapaswini
While writing and the allegation
Of my wife Tapaswini I certified
And I attested One can take it granted.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Mother and wife
Mother by all is a giver.
Wife by all is a taker.
You regard more the latter
As she is your child’s mother.
Mother is the shell;
Wife is the endosperm
30.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mother’s vacuum stays.
Mother is more concerned for son
His wife cannot match her.
Wife is more concerned for her child
Yet, one goes after one’s wife
And wakes up when mother is no more.
23.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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zy A Mousetrap (a Fable ~ Author Unknown)
A country mouse heard a rustling noise and looked through a crack in the wall to see what might be going on. He saw the farmer and his wife opening a box. To the mouse’s great dismay the box contained a mousetrap. Alarmed the mouse rushed out to the farmyard to spread a warning. “There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house! ”
The chicken, who had been clucking and scratching the earth, raised her head and said: “Mr. Mouse I can tell this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me. So I shall not allow myself to be bothered by it.”
The mouse turned to the pig and told him: “There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house! The pig sympathized, but said; “I am so very sorry Mr. Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it. Be assured however, that you will be in my prayers”.
Next the mouse went to the cow and repeated his alarm: “There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house! ”. The cow looked at him and said: “Gee Mr. Mouse that’s is to bad for you, but it’s no skin off my nose”.
Mr. Mouse returned to the farmhouse head down and dejected. Left to face the mousetrap alone. That very night the loud snap of a mousetrap snapping shut was heard throughout the farmhouse.
The farmers wife got up from bed and rushed out to see what had been caught in the trap. In the darkness she did not see that it was a venomous snake which had gotten its tail caught in the trap. As she stepped near the trap the snake struck out and bit her on her foot. The farmer rushed her to the hospital where the doctors gave the only treatment available but could not guarantee a full recovery. The farmer’s wife asked to be allowed to return to the farmhouse to recuperate.
Once home the farmer’s wife continued to feel ill. She developed a fever so the farmer, hoping to make her feel well, went out to the farmyard and killed the chicken to make his wife some soup. But her sickness continued and many friends and neighbors stopped by to wish her well and offer assistance. Grateful for their concern the farmer went out to the farmyard and slaughtered the pig so that he could feed the well-wishers.
Alas the farmer’s wife continued to decline in health and after some days she passed away. Knowing that many friends and relatives would arrive for the funeral the farmer had the cow butchered so that he would have meat to feed these mourners.
The mouse could only watch from his little crack in the wall. Saddened at the loss of his farmyard friends, but knowing that he had done all he could to warn them of the danger posed by the mousetrap.
The next time you hear someone is facing a problem and shares their concern with you, Remember the story of the Mr. Mouse and the mousetrap. We are all connected in life in what may seem mysterious ways, so when one of us is threatened we are all at risk.
Author Unknown
poem by Mary Havran
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Silly; Old Age; Marriage: Who Put The Vacuum Cleaner Away?
I biked to Radio Road yesterday while my wife vacuumed house.
When I got back she was at computer, .....quiet as a mouse.
I did a little chore or two outside before starting late day routine.
I read to my wife as she fixed the evening meal. I'm sure the house was clean.
Sometimes when she vacuums, I find the vacuum left in my way.
Then, if she's finished, I help..... by putting it in its place. Hey!
Yesterday I found no vacuum left about. My wife is getting better.
The progress of my feet (through our house) no vacuum cord did fetter.
So it was a minor shock to me what my wife said this morning.
[ It wasn't a world-shaking statement, but I had no real warning.]
She said 'thank you for putting vacuum cleaner away.' Something like that at least.
It was nothing I expected to hear from her....at our late morning feast.
[Our conversation then went something like this; I will paraphrase.]
He: 'no I didn't put it away sweetheart. Are you in a daze? '
She: 'no I'm not in a daze my dear. I'd not store it that way.'
He: 'wife, I'm not kidding you. If I'd done it I would say.'
She: 'I don't put it under the seat that way. I'd have left it neater.'
He: 'I'll challenge you to a senility test.' [I think that I could beat her.]
She: 'I'm really worried about you Bri. Who will care for you? '
Don't you remember putting it away? Please Bri, tell me true.
He: I'm telling you the truth dear wife. Why would I lie to you? '
Ok, sometimes I'm forgetful, but at times you are too.'
She: I did not put it away. I would not leave the lace on the seat askew.'
He: 'I love you dear wife. Maybe I did do it....., but I think you did....I do.'
poem by Bri Edwards
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The Former Rose Of Casterton
From Casterton in Victoria she lives far away
With hair dyes and hair tints does she hide her gray?
With shoulder length dark hair and lovely eyes of brown
She was a former Rose of Casterton Town.
In her prime she was one lovely to behold
But now in her late fifties she is getting old
Did she marry, mother children or lead a single life
For some lucky fellow she would have been a beautiful wife.
The wanderlust in her and when she was nineteen
She left and in Casterton was never more seen
The Rose of Glenelg and Casterton's Pride
She was missed from the Town in the brown countryside.
With anti ageing creams and hair dyes does she cloak time's decay
For she surely has known a far better day
Good memories of her with those who knew her to this day remain
Though in Casterton she never may be seen again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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