Whiite Paper Of A White Tiger
WHITE PAPER OF A WHITE TIGER
At my very door step
Exactly on the same time;
They serve me a square meal
Of chopped up, weighed fresh meat
Tested and vitaminised
Bucket-full of ready feast
…….no ….no…..I am not a VVIP
But, jailed for years
As a rare Bengal beast
One way, I am quite happy
That I need not have to labour
Or strain myself for a small prey
They are treating me as an ‘ex-ruler'
Loss of freedom - I do not even bother
In view of the respects
Care they offer, I feel much better
Than a loner in the forest
Sometimes, I may not be hungry at all
And have to skip a meal
On a long nap in my cellar
Quickly, they will move me
To the veterinary lab
Until they certify that nothing is wrong
Great people and their love and affection
Never allowing me to go fasting or dieting
I meet daily visitors of all sort
Joyous, sad, haves and have-not
Hanging on to the bars with awe and sympathy
As if I am at loss, punished or starved
In fact, through the dividing bars
Watchfully, I come across numerous faces
Dried up and charmless,
With no traces of happiness
And I silently, thank that I was so fortunate
For I can roar, walk majestically
Even under the terms of captivity
The poor people across, are cowed down
With invisible chains and cages
Their roaming and movements at free will
Doesn't make any sense to me
Though, in reality and at this age,
I cannot hunt a tiny rat on my own skill.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Related quotes
The white tiger
In the wildness the white tiger is so rarely found
Having a very white colored fur with black deep stripes
It’s a solitary genre wanting no one around
With its retractable claw the white tiger the prey gripes.
It is born from Bengal tiger having round deep blue eyes
Because the Bengal tiger has genes for white coloring
It may be complete white, but may not be different in size
At night it hunts some pigs, cattles and deers for eating.
These double recessive allele in their genetic code
Are the cause for turning up once in every thousand births.
The Bengal tiger becomes white in this natural mode
A great potential for excellence is found in its strengths.
In small areas with concentrated prey it survives
White tigers in the wild live about ten or fifteen years
It learns to be a swimmer when in the water it dives
And runs to catch any prey that in its sight appears.
Maharajah Shri Martand Singh hunted in the jungle
He saw a tigress with four cubs and one of them was white.
With drum beat and trumpet blast he ought fires to juggle
Next day he searched it but no tigress appeared in his sight.
At night the tiger vision is six times better than ours.
Tiger scratches on trees serve as territorial marker.
The stripes help the tiger to stay hidden many hours
And sometimes it fights a new territory to conquer.
The white tiger stripes are always like human fingerprint;
No two tigers have the same pattern of stripes on their fur
Female takes cubs to kill or in prey their teeth to imprint
But before this they are all blind and weigh two or three pounds.
MCN: CR291-J5UEC-PBN4L
© copyright Wed Feb 16 01: 31: 45 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Prowler
The prowler lurks, the prowler stalks, the prowler softly treads.
The tiger smirks, the tiger walks, the tiger tension spreads.
The forest king intently stares... he feels the prey is close.
With every step, he shows he cares, for suddenly he knows.
It's time for him to concentrate, to focus with his mind.
For soon he must accelerate, to catch up from behind.
His muscles poised, his eyes alert, his ears now tuning in.
In seconds, he may quickly spurt, to race and then to win.
His heart beats wildly for the chase his instincts have foretold.
His prey will feel his warm embrace and yet it's cruel and cold...
He salivates for memories now come to his recall.
They torture him as if they tease, for who knows if he'll fall?
He doesn't always win the game that Nature makes him play.
Each hunt's unique and not the same, sometimes they get away...
He's hungry now... the forest king, the prowler on the path...
The ruler not the underling, who kills on his behalf.
Beware this mighty fiercesome one, he's not afraid of you...
If you see him, it's time to run... I know that's what I'd do...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Prowler'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Loss, Strain & Butterflies
he got bad when she got mad
He lowered it one more time and she got even
No one heard a single word
But as the clock ticked from next door i could hear her breathing
I said "good morning mr. sun, now i would like you to meet my friend mr. bomb
(he has a house made out of butterflies)"
Well i can't sleep sometimes but i've been told
It's a lonely condition called growing old.
Let me stumble sometimes...
I'm looking for someone to cling to, yeah...
So what you think about that?
This time, well it all comes down
To loss and strain and butterflies,
And then it comes right down to me.
Hello, have you been alright?
Did you find a piece of something
Wrapped around the light side of your life
To make you feel better?
Did you get out with your sanity?
Did you save a little something for the people in need?
Did you know with the rain in your pockets, you can change the weather?
I'm looking for something to cling to, yeah
Girl, what you think about that?
Well this time, yeah it all comes down
To loss and strain and butterflies
Then it comes right down to me.
Well this time, this time, yeah it all comes down
To loss and strain and butterflies.
Hey yeah yeah, come on down to me...
Is this just the total for the wages of our sins?
Have you made yourself a victim in a game that you can't win?
And are we caving in?
Does it all begin with loss and strain and butterflies?
Does it come right down to me, anymore?
Yeah this time, maybe, does it all come down
To loss and strain and butterflies?
Hey yeah yeah, well...
Come on down to me.
song performed by by Matchbox 20
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loss, Strain Butterflies
He got bad when she got mad
He lowered it one more time and she got even
No one heard a single word
But as the clock ticked from next door I could hear her breathing
I said good morning mr. sun, now I would like you to meet my friend mr. bomb
(he has a house made out of butterflies)
Well I cant sleep sometimes but Ive been told
Its a lonely condition called growing old.
Let me stumble sometimes...
Im looking for someone to cling to, yeah...
So what you think about that?
This time, well it all comes down
To loss and strain and butterflies,
And then it comes right down to me.
Hello, have you been alright?
Did you find a piece of something
Wrapped around the light side of your life
To make you feel better?
Did you get out with your sanity?
Did you save a little something for the people in need?
Did you know with the rain in your pockets, you can change the weather?
Im looking for something to cling to, yeah
Girl, what you think about that?
Well this time, yeah it all comes down
To loss and strain and butterflies
Then it comes right down to me.
Well this time, this time, yeah it all comes down
To loss and strain and butterflies.
Hey yeah yeah, come on down to me...
Is this just the total for the wages of our sins?
Have you made yourself a victim in a game that you cant win?
And are we caving in?
Does it all begin with loss and strain and butterflies?
Does it come right down to me, anymore?
Yeah this time, maybe, does it all come down
To loss and strain and butterflies?
Hey yeah yeah, well...
Come on down to me.
song performed by by Matchbox 20
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tiger Smells Blood
Silently resting neath a tree,
Pawing at the straw of grass.
Eyes piercing the horizon,
Searching all senses alas.
Resting on the cool mud,
Then the Tiger smells blood.
The Tigers nostrils become filled,
Running toward the freshly killed.
The Tiger stalks through the meadow,
Sun to back, ready to attack.
A pack of dogs surround the meat,
He leaps into the pack ready to eat.
The pack filled with fear,
Stare at the mighty beast.
Would they stand fast,
Or become a part of the feast.
The Tiger snarls shoulders hunch,
Who would stand before his lunch.
The dogs bark and run away,
They would not eat their prey.
The Tiger eats the carcass crushing bones,
He then returns to lay beneath the tree.
His meal digested and stomach moans,
He licks his paws, then smiles with glee.
An old man robbed by ruthless hood,
Like a pack of dogs they draw blood.
They leave him laying in their city pride,
In the jungle, the beast will eat their hide.
poem by Saint Eule
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Don't Hurt
Don’t hurt the poor’ sentiments
They have nothing to offer as comments
They have pitiful eyes but not for offering curses
It may be certainly a pointer with tears
Don’t we feel shame when tons of grains are lost?
Only because we can’t store with safety even though needed most
Whom are we fooling to add the plight?
Is it humanity versus humanity fight?
I find no answer as we are not less than vultures
Take out the flash as and when found for sure
No sparing of any soul for greedy needs
Who are we going pay any heed?
We claim near to God yet involve in dirty game
We bow head before God but feel no shame
We yet to ask more blessings in our venture
This is how we see our glorious future
If people semi starved and kept at bay
Make it determined bid to stay away
It may engulf your complete empire
This is fact and not simple satire
Many empires have been lost and re-emerged
They are poor but never approach or come to urge
They have only open sky to look at nothing to worry
They may sleep with empty stomach but feel no sorry
Make a point not to waste a single grain
It may cause no stir but only amount to drain
Are we not making cruel joke by simply wasting
When millions of people go hungry and fasting
I read with concern all the revelation
It raises eyebrows with many questions
No one seems moved at the deterioration of store facility
People remain there and there with loss of enough quantity
It may not amount anything
But food can’t be supplanted for something
They need two time square meals
Only this much if we can do to heal
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Hated Shadows
Happy people
with happy faces
Do happy things
in happy places
Little to worry
little to care
Never are sorry
never are there
Through the Viel they live
they cannot see
people around them
people like me
People Invisible
people Divisible
We are not important to happy people
we do not exist
broken shadows of broken people
Happines Glows
Shadows can not exist
With their happy lives
their happy husbands and happy wives
their happy bars
their happy cars
they shine brite
like stars
The shadows
look onto the light with envy
knowing they cannot co-exist
feel hopeless
lost
sedentary
singular
Hated.
poem by Jon Trahan
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Mine
I love the happiness I feel
Nothing is wrong all goes right
I could spend a happy day
And exciting week
Or one just perfect night
Of all of them I choose her, him and her
My three I need
Known over years, months and weeks
Not a time needs change
And not one needs to be different
Happiness they have freed
People can look at us
People can hate and complain
I care little
I sit, I smile
Because change I wont
I remain the same
Waking up ready and early
Happy and strong
Ready for life
Ready forever
Just to fight to be happy
To sit with my three I love
The three about who I care
poem by Daniel Laurence
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Not All Losses Are Bad
Loss, most of the time bad. On occasion, great!
SOME TIME A LOSS CAN BE GOOD!
Can loss sometime be happy. You bet! Ask some
divorced couples.
The other guy had a loss and I won!
My ex had a loss, of most of our assets. Yes,
you guessed it, I got 'em!
Insurance companies, now there's some, that
many take great delight,
when they suffer a loss.
When the tax man does an audit, if they have
a loss, we have a win! (best kind of loss)
The person who brings suite against you,
suffers a loss. (Ain't that sweet?)
A hostile mother-in-law, suffers a loss,
when her daughter gets divorced.
When one experiences a weight loss.
Now that's something that would make
millions of people happy!
When the owner of your building, is deemed
to be, 'rent controlled, ' it brings a loss
to the greedy titleholder. (break out the champagne)
When the neighbor you hadn't spoken to for years,
has a loss, of the keys, to her car.
When the kid, who keeps running over your lawn,
with his bike, has a loss, of the two wheel monster.
When you child, who you love, but drives you nuts
with their loud music, has a broken stereo,
and a loss of music. (They're unhappy. You're ecstatic.)
When one has a loss of sleep, because their spouse
was amorous all night. (Ahhhh, the good old days.)
When your in-laws, prepare to come to your house,
for the first time, and have a loss of directions.
When your spouse, who cremates every barbecue
they ever handled, has a loss of the coals.
(Actually you hid them.)
When the know-it-all comes to your home, and
can't say a word, because they had a loss of
their dentures.
Remember...If you have a loss, sometime,
the loss is good!
l Losses Are Sometime Good...
Loss, most of the time bad. On occasion, great!
SOME TIME A LOSS CAN BE GOOD!
Can loss sometime be happy. You bet! Ask some
divorced couples.
The other guy had a loss and I won!
My ex had a loss, of most of our assets. Yes,
you guessed it, I got 'em!
Insurance companies, now there's some, that
many take great delight,
when they suffer a loss.
When the tax man does an audit, if they have
a loss, we have a win! (best kind of loss)
The person who brings suite against you,
suffers a loss. (Ain't that sweet?)
A hostile mother-in-law, suffers a loss,
when her daughter gets divorced.
When one experiences a weight loss.
Now that's something that would make
millions of people happy!
When the owner of your building, is deemed
to be, 'rent controlled, ' it brings a loss
to the greedy titleholder. (break out the champagne)
When the neighbor you hadn't spoken to for years,
has a loss, of the keys, to her car.
When the kid, who keeps running over your lawn,
with his bike, has a loss, of the two wheel monster.
When you child, who you love, but drives you nuts
with their loud music, has a broken stereo,
and a loss of music. (They're unhappy. You're ecstatic.)
When one has a loss of sleep, because their spouse
was amorous all night. (Ahhhh, the good old days.)
When your in-laws, prepare to come to your house,
for the first time, and have a loss of directions.
When your spouse, who cremates every barbecue
they ever handled, has a loss of the coals.
(Actually you hid them.)
When the know-it-all comes to your home, and
can't say a word, because they had a loss of
their dentures.
Remember...If you have a loss, sometime,
the loss is good!
Thanks for fine gesture
“Would you like to have some food “
We were watching laborers daily and understood
How much it was difficult to work under hot sun
They were toiling very hard to earn
“No sir, thanks for your kind gesture”
We can’t make exceptions any more
Today you are offering ready meal
To morrow who will be there to feel?
If I accept for one day as you are offering
My all habits may witness change and altering
I may search for it daily from somewhere
To our bad luck it may not be coming from anywhere
I was stunned to hear his philosophical thoughts
He was simple worker but fully aware of plight
As worker how much he had to struggle to find square meal
He was satisfied with his work as effort made in direction were real
He was getting enough to meet his family needs
He did not know what were the motives behind deeds?
He was sure of treatment after putting up hard struggle
It was timely help to come out of little troubles
The message was clear and nicely delivered
It was out of some pity and just offered
It was not well judged from his point of view
As little availability of food was not his need or due
Sometimes we feel very much elated at little gain
If that has come to us without much efforts or pain
It is human tendency to accept the offer without reluctance
We can observe it in our daily life with many more instances
We must work hard and don’t compromise with stand
It may not offer immediate return but strengthen the trend
We may never go in for short cut and accept undue favors
As it may spoil your tendency to feel bad and sour
We are all governed by inherited spirit
Shower the praise words when offer to greet
It has some motives to please a person
But in fact guided by selfish motives with reasons
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Without A Few Good Laughs A Day
Success is only really what does matter if you go by with what most people do say
But life it would surely be very boring without a few good laughs a day
If you cannot laugh you're in trouble some even find it hard to smile
There are people with heaps of money who feel living life scarce worth-while
One has to feel sympathy for them their gift of life they don't enjoy
When they buy presents for their young child they buy the most expensive toy
Yet their money cannot make them happy they live their lives burdened by care
It Doesn't mean you will be happy when you become a millionaire
The praises of the rich and famous so many feel happy to sing
But if money could make people happy then money would buy everything
Unhappiness some people are born with and 'tis something money cannot cure
But I'd rather be wealthy and unhappy than being poor and miserable though the choice is a poor one for sure
If money could solve all of our problems then our biggest problem would be small
But money cannot buy you happiness and that's the greatest gift of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Path To My Happiness
To stretch my wings and, far away, fly
To cut these chains and say goodbye
To break the bars of this prison in which im held
To silence the voices that constently yell
To flee with my love and escape Hurt's sting
Oh...what happiness that would bring
To break the door that holds me in
To get rid of the anger and hurt within
To open the lock that secures the chains
To flush out the anger that runs through my veins
To escape those people and they pain that they bring
Oh...what happiness that would bring
So to break the bars and cut the chains
The break down the door and flush out my veins
To silence the voices and escape the pain
Is what it will take for complete happiness to gain
'He' and 'I' will be a 'We' for the rest of life's years to come
Oh...the happiness for us to come. :)
poem by Shelby Renee
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A Dot On White Sheet!
Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!
Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!
Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Black And White So Alike
In my journey in life, I met many people and many issues
and I used many tissues, cried many tears thru the years.
I found people of color are similar to white and alike
in so many ways, they have feelings like white people
and maybe even more, people say to me why you bother
with people of color, I say people are people, color
and white are so alike, have feelings so alike and they
can bond like anyone else, talk for hours and laughs
about little things and big things.
People of color and white are so alike I am greatful to have
met special people in my life, make me feel good when I am down,
make me laugh when I cry, tell me its okay to feel sad, and thats
not bad to feel down sometimes because thats how it is, People of color and white so alike in many ways, they share sorrow and pain, cry
and laugh together, have long or short lunch or just walk
around corner its still something to talk about.
People of color and white so alike in many ways and thats what I say
and I will miss my friend now that she moved on, but our friendship stayed on....
poem by Hedi Vlacich
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A touch of happiness
Could I ever have the happiness
of those who cannot walk
having a first step even if small?
Could I ever have the happiness
of those unsighted feeling
shadows for the first time?
Could I have the happiness
of music heard by one who
hear no sound?
Could I have the happiness
of the hungry parent
able to feed a child?
Could I have the happiness
of ones who after hard falls
finds no more holes?
......................................... ...........................
Did we forgot how to appreciate what we have, the small things, have we forgotten our priorities? ..Do we really need to gain a big loss for the chance to touch happiness?
What
IS
Happiness? ?
poem by Elena Sandu
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In the spirit of Rumi: 74: Bliss
and they asked him, master,
tell us about bliss…
and he smiled as if
within himself, he heard the
angels laughing at the blameless
comedy of human life
bliss, he said, is where you find it…
as, when one day, you’re so hungry
that a meal fit for gods and kings
is a loaf of warm, fresh-baked bread;
a jug of wine that doesn't ask a label;
maybe a piece of local cheese, why not,
the meal which in olden times,
was called ‘short commons’ in some tongues,
that every innkeeper would offer free
to the weary, dust-stained traveller
as one would offer to one’s god
in thanks for life and sustenance…
saying, there’s a shady tree out there,
go and sit beneath it in the cool…
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine… and Thou..
Thou who appearest in so many forms
always beside me;
Thou who made the bread, its daily freshness
as if the morning made it from the desert dew;
who made the wine’s slow miracle;
who made the jug – the metaphoric clay of life
made moist with love, fired hard by love…
who made the tree which shades you as you eat;
who, the meal finished, waits for your gratitude
so as to know that all He made, is good…
and who then offers - as silently as sand beneath your feet,
as silently as cool air moves around the tree’s light shade,
as silently as ripening figs blush on the branch above you,
as silently as roses live their scented life,
as still as morning dawns, or evening shades -
Himself, as bliss; where for a moment as you sit,
there is no thing in all His world
to be desired; for All is here..
there in the heart, the sweetest taste of His
so intricate and jewelled simplicity.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Invisible Bars
It's not prison bars in front of my face
that take my freedom away.
It's people that want to control the world
that won't let my freedom stay.
It's not a cage that traps me inside
and won't allow me to fly.
It's the powerful ones that always hide
just waiting for me to die.
7 billion bodies now on this earth
and most of them aren't free.
It's a tragic play for most of us
that turned into a comedy.
But then the stage was always set
before we came to this place
to take my freedom away from me
with invisible bars before my face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Start Of New Year
What a sense of deep feeling with an enthusiasm?
Celebrated the year eleven with care in humanism
Did feel nothing bad at heart but only a bit remorse
As the year was slipping away with tick at twelve by force
I need not look back and analyze what were my drawbacks
I need not miss for what ever happened and how much was at stake
I brace up for coming year with lots of courage and strength
Complete with new get up and frequency wave length
I shall act different from what others have followed
Shall do all things which in fact are not allowed
Yet do nothing to break the sentiments at heart
No divide of any sort but good cheer up start
Still long way to go and rest later on at the end
Not to make more foes and less friends
Life may move on with or without me
I shall be conscious and worry free
Time will not be set at zero but made to move
I shall synchronize every action to prove
If not more to make tall claims
But to prove little helpful dropp from the rain
I know there is not much to rejoice
Yet life is not short of expectations but full of promises
We may err at every step and still move on with misses
Let us not leave behind any painful memory with traces
I look forward with lot pain and agony
May try to settle with it slowly
Yet no surety to feel at secured level
Except I bid for and honestly excel
I have vast ocean to swim across
Not to look at with any gain or loss
But as mission to live life at fullest use
All sentiments to rest at corner and do nothing to rouse
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Watching You
The Royal Tiger was acclaimed
Across the whole world wide
And in great pictures he'd been framed,
With genius and pride...
Distinctive stature has its charm,
Amid the ancient trails
And Man protects him from all harm,
For true love never fails...
Endangered species can't express
Their every daily need
And whether tiger, or tigress,
We know each one must feed...
As long as we've got some control,
Some stewardship at least,
Each Man must look inside his soul,
For beauty and the beast...
That's why the bold white tiger stood,
His old blue eyes aglow,
About to do what tigers should
When hunger starts to grow...
And so the hunt was on again,
For creatures great and small,
Perhaps to feast, survive and then
Be feared by one and all...
Denis Martindale, copyright April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Watching You'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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