No Work No Pay
NO WORK NO PAY
A new servant girl steps in
For an interview by my wife
Few questions asked, but historic replies
No means verify the versions thus heard
Wage negotiation is tough & takes little time
With perks and privileges spelt out and ratified
Servant now goes around for a self-inspection
Quickly comparing with other options held
Lastly, she accepts, but on a single condition
That she be paid 50% in advance payment
Collecting the money, she announces her schedules
Weekly rests and no cut if she absented herself
Days passed but, she didn't turn up
As per terms, we are not to hire a casual hand
Another intelligent lady nearby, rushes into confess
That the same has occurred to her with 50% lost
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Two Pizzas
TWO PIZZAS
Our kitchen is chill silent
today, this Friday afternoon -
four-burner prestige stove
stays mute, wiped so clean.
no activities seen
for the mid-day meal
wife and children are
chit- chatting in bed;
stories from Russia,
‘hithihasic kahanies'
tit-bits form weeklys
mock-trial make-ups
slowly, I entered in
to inquire the reason,
for a near hartal.
quickly, my wife replied
she has ordered ‘pizzas online'
two plus one, spicy chicken with some add-on
on fifty percent discount coupon
my childhood days were totally different
two pizzas are equal to two months' mess bill
a class iv servant will run his family whole month - but
my children are fortunate, father is a ‘ project leader'.
……two pizzas speaking of contrasting economies.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Working Class - Zindabad
WORKING CLASS - ZINDABAD
She is a working lady, plus-two passed,
not a white-collar post, nor a BPO
or of fatty pay in a public sector
no well-laid, centrally cooled posh outfit
canteens to refresh or free-bees to count upon
no unions to protect -
or the day would pass
by the mere ticking of the clock,
Irrespective of the man-hours lost
or spells of maternity rests
with guaranteed pay packets,
no choice of leave, sources of loans
no yearly bonus or incentive for extra work load
or has any weapon or rights
for stoppage of work, at the slightest issues.
She is a hard working lady, with a burden to care
a family of four, father and mother are daily wagers
determined, sweaty, untiring, poor, fair sex
ten hours together, in a congested garment shop
machine-like and non-stop, for the last six long years
with no increments, murmur or tears
for a stagnant wage of Rs. 180 per day
yet, she keeps Rs. 30 aside
for an uncertain marriage of self
with lot of dreams of an honourable husband
If I were one of those magical gods
Would come to her rescue by a new ‘avtar'
as the most lovable, kind, honest match
to be in service, to this ‘restless, serene flower'
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Style Is Skin Deep
Whence you are newly married
great attention is paid to dressing habits.
Negligible things, such as make-up, usually
eat up much of your valuable time
after several rehearsals, cat-walk
and perfect touch-ups,
you may dare to show up in street.
the poor husband besides you
could not have earlier researched so deep into
such delicacies that women
so seriously care and boast of,
are really going to ‘jack up'
his normal wife into a small screen queen.
Yet another question does arise here
for pleasing whom a lady so labours hard?
enormous time and money
that goes into this process
announces the dangers well in time,
to which he is additionally wedded
for all the times in the rest of his life.
and it is equally true -
that an husband expects his wife
to be neat and trim
pleasing to himself and others as well
but, the budget cost is so heavenly high
better he should have chosen
to marry just a few months - before his retirement
…..when only, he would have enough to spend.
poem by Santhana Louis
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Mona Lisa
MONA LISA
All through the days of the week
Double-busy with my table work
I can return home little earlier, but
Have to sit with my son's homework
And if I am really free at home
My kind wife would order some jobs for me
Dusting the windows, cleaning the ceiling,
Washing the gas-stove and scrapping the sump clean
But for her duties as merely a housewife
She keeps a servant full-time on all meals basis
Just as a ‘mistress' she does only supervise
With her starched Kota sarees' crease never shuffling
Scientists make bombs but politicians use it
Whatever, I earn hard, my spouse so freely expends
You are a machine with no powers to revolt
Nor to halt or question anything you suspect
Vexed by these features, I opted to ‘sanyas'
And am to board a train to night to 'Kailash'
In search of peace, respect and freedom
But, ….my charming sister-in-law has only just come
……I need to cancel at once the whole thing!
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Today... 'Holy Servant
Oh Holy Servant of God
The pathways of earth You trod
walked with mankind healing the blind
Oh Holy Servant of God
Oh Holy Servant of God
the hill of Calvary You trod
and from that cross You saved the lost
Oh Holy Servant of God
Oh Holy Servant of God
all the way to the grave You trod
and from that grave reached out to save
Oh Holy Servant of God
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Two Women's Day Out
TWO WOMEN'S DAY OUT
My cell phone is ringing
special ring-tone, to alert calls from her -
it is my maid servant: in feeble voice
announcing her unscheduled absence.
our area is under power cut today
from 9 am to 5 pm
on routine shut down; added to it
no water in our flats' pipeline.
Vexed by these adverse occurrence,
I booked tickets in Express Cinema
with lunch to be managed outside.
costly alternatives, sometimes it so happens
inside the Mall, Baskin Robbins ice cream
Is Rs.130 a small cup -
Medium bowl popcorn Rs.70
one hand-full. - threatening price lists.
Who is she? my maid servant! same cinema,
under the dim light - by the third row, in front,
with ice cream and two big bowls,
tucked in her arms for her only son!
seated behind in a dark corner
I opened up the same saturated
‘Diwali bakshan' to be shared
among my two daughters
as usual, the servant turned-up next day
in grim face, Zandu Balm smelling all over,
'mam, I was down with fever, all joints paining
spare me Rs. 300 to meet the doctor evening'
I am a PG teacher, badly dependent on her service
her bold lies and false pretexts, I have to simply swallow
In tune with her acting, I extended some pill & gel to apply
How clever this poor girl is,
harvesting Rs.300 for a batch of cold lies.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Sonnet: Master-servant Relationship
Where Master cares for servant’s welfare too
And treats him like a fellow-man at least,
And twain help each other to grow and woo,
The Master can never become a beast.
Where servant earns his master’s goodwill first,
By doing duty, uttering no word,
The Master cannot ever turn his worst,
Nor any time from hilt remove his sword!
Thus, master, servant is inseparable;
One thinks about the other all the time;
And love is born strong like in a fable,
With other’s help, each makes his life sublime.
Think of the other’s needs much more than self,
And never work for worldly acclaim/pelf.
7-26-2002
poem by John Celes
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Love L O S T
LOVE LOST
I missed the Fantasy
of LOVE
when I was of prime age
aptly, my friend hinted once
that I have lost
50% of charms of life….
……….his statement was perhaps true !
for, I was poor, simple
and of very ordinary looks
quite unfit for sweet little talks
in cheap cotton pants
on to it un-ironed shirts
in faded dhoti and Hawaii chappal
and with rationed pocket money, on hand
even the poorest girl
could not have liked me in -
as I was a total mismatch
for her asking basic dreams
still, I have had no regrets
for being so unfortunate,
because I knew pretty well
that no one would have
truly loved me then
even, if I wished and cried for one
having lived for six long decades,
I now, recollect those ‘love lost' years
surrendering unto the Heaven's best designs
I have been raised from rags to riches;
…….with an enduring gift of a unblemished, passionate,
dutiful, exceptional wife, whom I LOVED thru' rest of my life.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Two Bicycles
when I was a little boy
of 14 years of age,
I desired to have a
‘Admiral' small 18' bicycle
to attend school,
roughly 4 kms. away.
promise after promise,
for every Christmas and birthdays,
yet, the cycle never turned up
my school days, were by then over
I joined a college hostel in a small town
Fees, books, dress, hostel deposit and allied
my father had paid them all, without any murmur
at the end of the degree course, I passed out with distinction
joined the bank at a remote village, as cash-cum-accounts clerk
by the grace of bank, festival advance Rs.150-
cycle advance of Rs.300
………the dream came true, after a lapse of nine good years
Brand new ‘Raleigh' Green, in colour-full other fittings
with dynamo, my name and address painted in bold yellow
on touching the cycle, my nerves trembled
and tears rolled down, as I pedaled down to my home
for seeking my parents' blessings, with an unbiased mind.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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My First Lady
The First Lady
We studied together
Up to the middle school level
In an infamous board high school
As closely sitting classmates
I had some peculiar
Interest in her
And half of the time
Only staring at her
She always stood first
But, I didn't envy at her
When she was found to be sad or upset
It instantly tuned me to her line of distress
Under the influence of movies that time
I threw some poetic verses at her
She was so generous and tactful indeed
To bury those things ‘as private' with her
On transfer, she moved out to a distant centre
Never to be seen again since decades together
I am still keeping her facsimile inside
As the 'FIRST LADY' to have disturbed my softest senses.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Tough Little Boys
I never once, backed down from a punch.
I'd take it square on the chin.
Well I found out fast a bullys just that and you got to stand up to him.
So I didn't cry when I got a black eye as bad as it hurt I just grinned.
But when tough little boys grow up to be Dads
They turn into big babies again.
Scared me to death when took your first steps,
Well I'd fall everytime you fell down.
Your first day of school,
I cried like a fool, I followed your school bus to town.
Well I didn't cry when ol Yeller died
at least not in front of my friends.
But when tough little boys grow up to be
Dads they turn into big babies again.
Well I'm a grown man and as strong as I am.
Well sometimes it's hard to believe,
One little girl with little blonde curls can totally terrify me.
If you were to ask my wife would just laugh ,
she'd say I know all about men,
how tough little boys grow up to be Dads
they turn into big babies again.
Well I know one day I'll give you away
and I'm goin to stand there and smile.
When I get home and I'm all alone,
I'll sit in your room for awhile.
Cause when tough little boys grow up to be
Dads they turn into big babies again
song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Pictures
Ive got her photograph on a stand by my bed
Two on the mantle and thousands in my head
I cant believe how fast shes growing
It aint supposed to be like this
Everytime I look at her I see how much Ive missed
I missed her first steps her first words and I love you daddy
Is something Ive seldom heard
Oh it hurts me so to watch my girl grow up in pictures
I send the money down do my best to do my part
But it cant compare with what Ive paid with my heart
Theres still one unanswered question that weighs heavy on my mind
Will she ever understand the reasons why
I missed her first steps and her first words and I love you daddy
Is something Ive seldom heard
Oh it hurts me so to watch my girl grow up in pictures
It takes all I have to keep the tears inside
And what I wouldnt give if I could turn back time
I missed her first steps her first words and I love you daddy
Is something Ive seldom heard
Oh it hurts me so to watch my baby grow up in pictures
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Divorced........divided, we stand
Divorced……...DIVIDED, WE STAND
Don't be scared at the word………….DIVORCE
It is a tool, a blessing in disguise
for those who have suffered excessive grief
cutting the cards to a perfect relief
always be good, patient and pure
with your options wide open to the fore
at last, exhausting all the weapons in store
when trails are over, steer away to the shores
the lawful axe that throws you apart
with a view that you should hopefully re-start
The Paradise Lost or The Paradise Regained
it is up to you to choose your lot
the softest man is pitted against a witch
the noblest woman is gifted away to a fret
God is mad and His ways are a myth
grudge not, take recourse to the days of mirth
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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From the diary of a Dowager
She is still smart in her forties and lives in her manor childless.
The land, poultry, vineyard and the whole wealth,
She holds from her deceased husband.
The old parents and the servants lived together.
Her brother-in-law, husband's elder brother
Who was a retired war veteran a senile lives behind the manor in the old haystack.
She doesn't like to marry again and refused all the proposals the parents brought.
'I live my entire life in single' She grumbled.
The classical music gives her courage to pass the time.
Her senile brother-in-law who died in sleep and they buried him near by the haystack.
Exactly after a fortnight of the funeral the complaint was made by a servant that she was pregnant by the deceased Master.
The lady was shocked and she is very kind and promised the servant to adopt the child after the birth.
She adopts the servant's beautiful daughter.
And the servant took hands the old Gardner?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I am not a perfect servant. I am a public servant doing my best against the odds. As I develop and serve, be patient. God is not finished with me yet.
quote by Jesse Louis Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If a servant strives to please his master and studies and takes pains to do it, I believe there are but few masters who would use such a servant cruelly.
quote by Jupiter Hammon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God Servant
temple free
god was waiting
for is servant
servant was
not come
god also sad...
servant will bee comes
good happy...
why...?
god only no
i don't no
YOU no...
tell me to god
and me...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Long Lost Daughter
This poem was inspired by a storyline on the TV show 'Casualty', when Colette's long lost daughter found her.
My Mum came to see me at work,
Asking to speak to me urgently.
She had recieved a phone call
From my long lost daughter, Natalie.
Then one day, Natalie turned up at work.
I was taken by surprise:
She was a beautiful young lady now,
And was stood before my very eyes.
I asked my boss for an hour's break.
Natalie and I went for a walk.
We had a lot of catching up to do,
And had a good heart to heart talk.
She asked why I had her adopted
And I had to tell her the truth.
My Mum had told me if I kept her,
I was no longer welcome under her roof.
I was fifteen at the time.
I was alone and very afraid.
Soon after I had her, she was whisked away,
And so it was at home I stayed.
She asked about her father,
But he left me years ago.
When he discovered I was pregnant,
He just didn't want to know.
Sixteen years had passed
Since I gave my little girl away,
But eventhough life carried on,
I thought about her every day.
Only those close to me knew of her existence.
I'd kept her a secret all that time,
But now the time had finally arrived,
To tell the world, Natalie was mine!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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An Assumption Of Money To Be Made
If they ever asked why I'm doing all this?
I will answer with a single remark.
To save a life.
If they ever asked what if you fail?
I will answer with a single remark.
I have but, I'm still here.
If they ever asked now that your accomplished what's next.
I will answer with a single remark.
What I do will not change, at least not for intentions of fame.
If they ever asked, if offered money to stop what your doing would you?
I will answer with a single remark.
No I will not be bought.
'So let me get this straight your completely honest? '
Yes I try to be.
'Well I still don't believe you.'
Well I never I asked you to or care if you do.
Your the one who wanted answers to those questions.
I gave you my answers, take it or leave it.
'I have to go because your not going to make me any money.'
That's fine because I've never said I would.
Your the one who assumed that.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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What's In A Name
WHAT'S IN A NAME
By the very feel of a baby inside the womb
People break their head in search of a name
Crossing the borders and nationalities even
They bring home a damn, in an idiotic craze
Like the race horses having very fascinating names
It is not sure, they win all the courses they run
Choosing a name that is big and different
Has nothing to do in the real life game
By naming my girl as ‘Marlin Munroe'
She cannot storm the hearts of men world over
By naming my boy as ‘Winston Churchill'
He cannot order a new world war either
Is production of a child, a magnificent thing?
Let him achieve greatness on all of his own
Once your flag is up, whatever be thy name
You are shot to the top of the fame
….with your new, new historic name
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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