What Pleasure Is This To You, O God?
what pleasure is this to you, o god,
in creating and destroying me again and again?
are you not tired of this boring game?
you scatter around me a wealth of pleasures
all of them but beyond my tiny reach-
all my life i waste in greed and tears
i acquire nothing but wrinkles and silvery hair-
why not teach me the real pleasures of living?
-sundaram chandrakalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Gifts
Gifts are the real reason for life to sustain our pleasures,
And destroy each man's heart when he strikes us.
The money will rise, reside and revolve, tonight,
As in every night, the day shall be missed. Again.
Presents must keep the ready heart to speak the alarm
Of life and living. Animals betray our position, as pets.
We are not animals, that spoke yesterday of today's gifts;
Rather our real genius is our wish to sustain our pleasures.
The gift is our pleasure of life, and it is called happiness.
poem by Naveed Akram
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To Some Greed Is The Blood.
Alas! there are some
To whom the eyes are waste,
To some the tongue a viper,
To some limbs a vice!
O God! why such cruel creations?
Why in so many the heart is absent
And greed is the blood?
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Simple Pleasures
The simple pleasures in life are best.
Spending time with speacial freinds.
Letting them know that they depend.
You'll always be there to defend.
Taking time to sit and think.
To ponder how great the world can be.
Sit and read while drinking tea.
It's all a splendid treat for me.
A peaceful walk down in the park.
Taking in it's gorgeous spark.
The precious wonders are so stark.
Listening to music that gives you hope.
These simple pleasures are what I need.
So life doesn't grow tired and boring.
Enjoy them all because life is short.
Cherish these things inside your heart.
poem by Michael McParland
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The Disappointment
IN tears to her mother poor Harriet came,
Let us listen to hear what she says:
'O see, dear mamma, it is pouring with rain,
We cannot go out in the chaise.
'All the week I have long'd for this holiday so,
And fancied the minutes were hours;
And now that I'm dress'd and all ready to go,
Do look at those terrible showers! '
'I'm sorry, my dear, ' her kind mother replied,
The rain disappoints us to-day;
But sorrow still more that you fret for a ride,
In such an extravagant way.
'These slight disappointments are sent to prepare
For what may hereafter befall;
For seasons of real disappointment and care,
Which commonly happen to all.
'For just like to-day with its holiday lost,
Is life and its comforts at best:
Our pleasures are blighted, our purposes cross'd,
To teach us it is not our rest.
'And when those distresses and crosses appear,
With which you may shortly be tried,
You'll wonder that ever you wasted a tear
On merely the loss of a ride.
'But though the world's pleasures are fleeting and vain,
Religion is lasting and true;
Real pleasure and peace in her paths you may gain,
Nor will disappointment ensue. '
poem by Ann Taylor
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The Disappointment
In tears to her mother poor Harriet came,
Let us listen to hear what she says:
"O see, dear mamma, it is pouring with rain,
We cannot go out in the chaise.
"All the week I have long'd for this holiday so,
And fancied the minutes were hours;
And now that I'm dress'd and all ready to go,
Do look at those terrible showers! "
"I'm sorry, my dear, " her kind mother replied,
The rain disappoints us to-day;
But sorrow still more that you fret for a ride,
In such an extravagant way.
"These slight disappointments are sent to prepare
For what may hereafter befall;
For seasons of real disappointment and care,
Which commonly happen to all.
"For just like to-day with its holiday lost,
Is life and its comforts at best:
Our pleasures are blighted, our purposes cross'd,
To teach us it is not our rest.
"And when those distresses and crosses appear,
With which you may shortly be tried,
You'll wonder that ever you wasted a tear
On merely the loss of a ride.
"But though the world's pleasures are fleeting and vain,
Religion is lasting and true;
Real pleasure and peace in her paths you may gain,
Nor will disappointment ensue. "
poem by Jane Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am A Bachelor!
Darling dear!
I am a bachelor-
My eyes
know not the tear buds!
My mind
is a stranger to traumas!
My lips,
you know, scatter only
the laughing stars!
My legs
in intoxication of overflowing joy
dance on unsteady feet!
Therefore, my love,
rush to me
and into me!
Show inside me
the lakes of tears!
Scratch me all over
with the thorns of sorrow!
Take me to the expanses of affection
and greeneries of togetherness
that within me await your discovery!
Let me shower you in joy
in return for the tears you bestow
to taste the juice of life all my life!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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The Pleasures of Ordinary Life
I've had my share of necessary losses,
Of dreams I know no longer can come true.
I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.
It's time to make things good, not just make do.
It's time to stop complaining and pursue
The pleasures of an ordinary life.
I used to rail against my compromises.
I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.
But happiness arrived in new disguises:
Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace.
Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.
I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.
It seems the woman I've turned out to be
Is not the heroine of some grand story.
But I have learned to find the poetry
In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.
Young fantasies of magic and of mystery
Are over. But they really can't compete
With all we've built together: A long history.
Connections that help render us complete.
Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet,
Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life.
poem by Judith Viorst
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Wrinkles and Grey Hair (Children)
Mommy's getting wrinkles.
Daddy has grey hair.
It wasn't very long ago
when those things weren't there.
Wish I could smooth the wrinkles out
and darken Daddy's hair
to stop the changes going on.
It makes me feel so scared.
Grampa, does it mean they'll die?
They have wrinkles and grey hair!
I never used to worry
before those things were there.
Grampa said to look at him.
There were lots of wrinkles there,
and on his head, a snowstorm
was the color of his hair.
'Wrinkles only come to point
where smiles were, here and there.
It's your mommy's turn to get some
for the happy times you've shared.'
His white, and Daddy's grey hair
well, it was there to show
who had lived the longest time
so everyone could know!
Grampa said it's part of life.
We love, we learn, we live.
We earn grey hair and wrinkles,
they're prizes only God can give.
Are our brains wrinkled?
Wrinkles are the measurement,
to show the life's management,
some are very near and deep,
and the rest long and steep.
Wrinkles are the asset,
that get through the experience,
not all those experienced,
never have such twinkles.
The wrinkles which can not be seen,
hidden inside the hard shell,
More the wrinkles formation,
More the knowledge dwell.
Let us see who has more fold.
Einstein or a research assistant,
people with more folds may not know it,
people with lesser folds strive to get it.
Do not let anyone,
to iron out the wrinkles,
with their disillusioned vision.
Let us acquire more in our brains.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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For How Long...?
' for how long are you going to be like this? '-
all and sundry have shot the very same question at me-
at times merciless, at times full of concern
which has no answer from me ever-
'o mother, why you alone do not?
is it that i am never bothersome to you? '-
yes, i know, mother your heart bleeds as tears;
what can i do, dear mother?
am i not a mentally unstable creation of god?
-s.chandrakalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Mistake not. Those pleasures are not pleasures that trouble the quiet and tranquillity of thy life.
quote by Jeremy Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wrinkles
For Naomi Lazard
Sometimes I can't wait until I look like Nadezhda Mandelstam.
-- Naomi Lazard
My friends are tired.
The ones who are married are tired
of being married.
The ones who are single are tired
of being single.
They look at their wrinkles.
The ones who are single attribute their wrinkles
to being single.
The ones who are married attribute their wrinkles
to being married.
They have very few wrinkles.
Even taken together,
they have very few wrinkles.
But I cannot persuade them
to look at their wrinkles
collectively.
& I cannot persuade them that being married
or being single
has nothing to do with wrinkles.
Each one sees a deep & bitter groove,
a San Andreas fault across her forehead.
"It is only a matter of time
before the earthquake."
They trade the names of plastic surgeons
like recipes.
My friends are tired.
The ones who have children are tired
of having children.
The ones who are childless are tired
of being childless.
They love their wrinkles.
If only their were deeper
they could hide.
Sometimes I think
(but do not dare to tell them)
that when the face is left alone to dig its grave,
the soul is grateful
& rolls in.
poem by Erica Jong
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Pleasure Is The Bait
Excitement gives pleasure;
Exploration gives pleasure;
Sexual love gives pleasure.
Pleasures are momentary.
Pleasure can peak the happiness
Or cause the valley of sorrow.
Pleasure is the bait one's after
Not minding the after-effects.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Golden Coins
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
Say youre mine, then ask me what you will
All your dreams, my darling Ill fulfill
Golden coins, I will bring to you
Silver trinkets and rubies too
In return dear Im begging you
For the pleasures of love
Ill bring gifts, like you never saw
Priceless garments that youll adore
Persian rugs to enhance your floor
For the pleasures of love
Darling, choose anything you please
Rich brocade, or woven tapestries
In exchange, I plead on my knees
For the pleasure of love
Golden coins, Ill place at your feet
Precious jewels to make life complete
All my treasures are yours my sweet
For the pleasures of love
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only my wordless eyes!
alas..!
no roadways,
not even a single footpath
of language
to reach
her pristine beauty..!
only my wordless eyes.!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Pleasures are always children, pains always have wrinkles.
quote by Joseph Joubert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whippoorwill River
(Vince Gill / Dean Dillon)
My dad was a man
With two hard workin' hands
He always took time out for me
Well, I'd come home from school
Load up that canoe
He'd say, "What's the bet gonna be?"
Chorus:
We'd float that boat down old Whippoorwill River
Catch us a big one or two
Well, he taught me about life
And its simple pleasures
And whatever else that he knew.
Then I met a girl
With a head full of curls
A pure and innocent heart
Oh, I knew she was the one
And when weekends would come
Wild horses couldn't keep us apart.
Chorus:
We'd run those ponies down Whippoorwill River
And I'd steal a sweet kiss or two
She taught me about love
And its simple pleasures
And whatever else that she knew.
Well, I married that girl
And we have a song
And he looks like my daddy used to
Oh, his mom and I
Always find time
To do things that he likes to do.
Chorus:
Well, he loves to go fishing on Whippoorwill River
And ride in his grandad's canoe
We teach hima bout life
And its simple pleasures
And pass down a memory or two.
Yeah, he loves to go fishing on Whippoorwill River
And catch him a big one or two
He's learning about life
And its simple pleasures
And making a memory or two.
Ooh...
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To know the pains of power, we must go to those who have it; to know its pleasures, we must go to those who are seeking it. The pains of power are real; its pleasures imaginary.
Charles Caleb Colton in Lacon (1825)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A State of Happiness
An ideal state would be heart with prison,
To know everything costs this higher position,
Where the life of the living gathers problems and more procedures.
An another happiness unfurls,
It is the modern world, it is fortune as we see it,
The young nation made a right reason for living.
I recall what pleasures added to the pleasant news,
Inside them we describe them as they are believed,
Most people bite that pleasure that ends in success.
The gods are alive when young people make mistakes,
Above them nothing can guide the children of tomorrow,
It cares why some of them reach death with love in their breasts.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Oh What Pleasures
Oh what pleasures I have had
with just my thoughts of you.
I could not say them all aloud
for none would think them true.
Only I can treasure these.
Only I can know
what these pleasures have done to me
and where they had me go.
Into the garden under a bough
with no one there to see,
under the starlit evening skies
with your arms enclosing me.
Onto the fields in broad daylight
trying to avoid the sun,
succumbing to nature's mating call
We two become as one.
Oh what pleasures my thoughts do give
but never would I say.
I keep them silently in my mind
and pray they're true someday.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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