In the Same Cell
(They are Tamils. I am a Sinhalese in same country called Sri Lanka.)
They murmur and exchange
In their own mother tongue
I was a dumb person
Because of the language
I talk
In my tongue
He reacts and learns
As he knows little bit
In the same cell of same act
Between the death and life
We passed time without a meaning.
Looks at me
Makes change and
Closes with loyalty
Clearing face with smiles
Thereafter
We
Composed words
With crippling time
Exchanging a lot
Among each other.
As mutes sometimes
Had to be with another's
Silence was the greatest tongue
Understood hearts to each other
Danger beckons untold secrets
Came out at the sleepless nights
Identifying the souls.
The image changed
He and I brought
We together drew a new picture
Point of the pen of language
Taking the colors of trust
While the time
We imprisoned in the camp
Called "Boossa Detention camp"
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Classical Tamil World Conference (Semmozhi Tamizh Ulaga Manadu)
Through you, I came, Mother;
Lucky was my birth in Bharat, my Motherland;
I was nurtured and grew up by mother’s milk;
I drew strength from my mother’s love.
I knew the world through my mother-tongue;
I learnt most things by mother-tongue;
Thanks to my dear earthly mother;
Thanks to my Mother, Tamil!
The place where I was born was Tamilnadu;
Tamil is my mother-tongue;
Tamil was my first breath;
My first cry was in Tamil.
My last breath shall be Tamil;
My life will be for Tamil;
I am proud of my mother-tongue, Tamil;
I am proud to be a Tamilian!
Tamil is a great language;
Tamil is a popular language;
Tamil is an ancient language;
Tamil is a classical language.
Tamil is a world language;
Tamil is a language of Gods!
Dedicated to ‘Classical Tamil World Conference,2010, Coimbatore’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 23-06-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Belts
There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay,
Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree;
It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark:
The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park.
For it was: -- "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!"
An' it was "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!"
O buckle an' tongue
Was the song that we sung
From Harrison's down to the Park!
There was a row in Silver Street -- the regiments was out,
They called us "Delhi Rebels", an' we answered "Threes about!"
That drew them like a hornet's nest -- we met them good an' large,
The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge.
Then it was: -- "Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- an' I was in it too;
We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru!
I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the storm
A ~Freeman's Journal Supplemint~ was all my uniform.
O it was: -- "Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- they sent the Polis there,
The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care;
But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose,
Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es.
For it was: -- "Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- it might ha' raged till now,
But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how;
'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run:
An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun.
While it was: -- "Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- but that put down the shine,
Wid each man whisperin' to his next: "'Twas never work o' mine!"
We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him,
The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him.
When it was: -- "Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- it isn't over yet,
For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get;
'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie:
There was a row in Silver Street -- begod, I wonder why!
But it was: -- "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!"
An' it was "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!"
O buckle an' tongue
Was the song that we sung
From Harrison's down to the Park!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Gossiper
(9/15/12)
She was well to do, and had more
Money than me and you.
She loved to gossip and put people down
it mattered not- who was around.
She talked about everyone that she knew
And wouldn't let you leave till she was through.
She talked about her neighbors and her friends
And put them down to the bitter end.
They said she was lonely and didn't have a life
But who in the world would make her " his wife"?
Now the years have taken its toll
And she's gotten very old.
But! There was someone " who had done just that"
And she became bitter and fat.
She had married at a very young age
To a man who was twice her age.
After a few years he passed away
And she became even more bitter and enraged.
That is when she started to talk
About all who was around
And enjoyed the fact of putting people down.
Soon no one came to visit any more
For she had closed all the doors
They had gotten tired of trying
To be her friend, when she talked
About them - to no end.
There was nothing that could stop
Her wagging tongue, even as she
Was in her dying bed.
She talked about the living and the dead.
When the time came and she was laid to rest.
They said there was two coffins laid in the ground.
One for her body and one for her tongue
So she could not talk to anyone.
(the comical moral of this story)
: Don't talk without knowing- cause
Your tongue don't know where it's going.
© L. RAMS
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The mute singer
She cut out her tongue
So she could sing
Those unheard songs
sung
She cut out her tongue
So silently
She could unspeak herself
Free, from prison words
She cut out her tongue
So that her soul could catch the light
And let it run
Through her body transparent
Prism shining out
She cut out her tongue
To free her self
From her self
Completion
Knitted under the skin of silence
Flying unseen
Into unexplored horizons
Without
Mother
Country
Point of
Trace
She cut out her tongue
To see the eyes
Behind the face
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Australian Slanguage
"Tis the everyday Australian
Has a language of his own,
Has a language, or a slanguage,
Which can simply stand alone.
And a "dickon pitch to kid us"
Is a synonym for "lie",
And to "nark it" means to stop it,
And to "nit it" means to fly.
And a bosom friend's a "cobber,"
And a horse a "prad" or "moke,"
While a casual acquaintance
Is a "joker" or a "bloke."
And his lady-love's his "donah"
or his "clinah" or his "tart"
Or his "little bit o' muslin,"
As it used to be his "bart."
And his naming of the coinage
Is a mystery to some,
With his "quid" and "half-a-caser"
And his "deener" and his "scrum".
And a "tin-back" is a party
Who's remarkable for luck,
And his food is called his "tucker"
Or his "panem" or his "chuck".
A policeman is a "johnny"
Or a "copman" or a "trap",
And a thing obtained on credit
Is invariably "strap".
A conviction"s known as "trouble",
And a gaol is called a "jug",
And a sharper is a "spieler"
And a simpleton's a "tug".
If he hits a man in fighting
That is what he calls a "plug",
If he borrows money from you
He will say he "bit your lug."
And to "shake it" is to steal it,
And to "strike it" is to beg;
And a jest is "poking borac",
And a jester "pulls your leg".
Things are "cronk" when they go wrongly
In the language of the "push",
But when things go as he wants 'em
He declares it is "all cush".
When he's bright he's got a "napper",
And he's "ratty" when he's daft,
And when looking for employment
He is "out o' blooming graft".
And his clothes he calls his "clobber"
Or his "togs", but what of that
When a "castor" or a "kady"
Is the name he gives his hat!
And our undiluted English
Is a fad to which we cling,
But the great Australian slanguage
Is a truly awful thing!
poem by William Thomas Goodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mother Tongue
A secretive being provides safety for the individual,
My cancers grow and multiply for every one acceptable.
Let hardness be attached to the so many words
In this high and mighty language, the one of hazards.
Must we seek caves and crevices for our illness
To disappear finally and successfully in stillness?
The being inside is like an island of woes,
I have hidden all these grand avocados.
Let secrets spoil the words so plentiful in this tongue,
The tongue is the mother tongue, and it is hung.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Guile of Dad M'Ginnis
When M,Ginnis struck the mining camp at Jamberoora Creek
His behaviour was appreciated highly;
For, although he was a quiet man, in manner mild and meek,
Not like ordinary swagmen with a monumental cheek,
He became the admiration of the camp along the creek
'Cause he showed a point to Kangaroobie Riley!
Both the pubs at Jamberoora had some grog that stood the test
(Not to speak of what was manufactured slyly!)
And the hostel of O'Gorman, which was called The Diggers' Rest,
Was, O'Gorman said, the finest house of any in the west;
But it was a burning question if it really was the best,
Or the "Miners" - kept by Kangaroobie Riley.
Dad M'Ginnis called at Riley's. Said he "felt a trifle queer",
And with something like a wan and weary smile, he
Said he "thought he'd try a whisky". Pushed it back and said, "I fear
I had better take a brandy." Passed that back and said: "Look here,
Take the brandy; after all, I think I'll have a pint of beer!"
And he drank the health of Kangaroobie Riley!
"Where's the money?" asked the publican; "you'll have to pay, begad!"
"Gave the brandy for the beer!" said Dad the wily,
"And I handed you the whisky when I took the brandy, lad!"
"But you paid not for the whisky!" answered Riley. "No," said Dad,
"And you don't expect a man to pay for what he never had!"
- 'Twas the logic flattened Kangaroobie Riley!
"See," said Kangaroobie Riley, "you have had me, that is clear!
But I never mind a joke," he added, dryly.
"Just you work it on O'Gorman, and I'll shout another beer."
"I'd be happy to oblige yer," said McGinnis with a leer,
"But the fact about the matter is - O'Gorman sent me here! -
So, good morning, Mr Kangaroobie Riley!"
poem by William Thomas Goodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Need To Hear!
I want to hear.
how much your language is.
His way to express so soft.
And how English is so touching! And so tender! In your voice.
because my, is so rude!
and yours, is so spherical
and when I expected for one R
Always comes a Th
so smooth!
That´s confused me!
that reminds me when the smoothness of your tongue meet mine.
And overcome and resign me!
Only in English! ! !
two famous tongue can be meet.
mellow and back words.
Only for you, because your wet time i insist! And you have a beautiful weather! ! ! Can unite drops and sounds.
Oh! No, beautiful language!
Oh! wrong again? ? ? What beautiful wet tongue! ! ! !
poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Language lost
My language lost
My identity lost.
Excuse me
I could not save my language.
I am forced to use foreign tongue
I am forced to shun all that are mine.
Excuse me
I could not save my language
I could not save my life
And I am not fine.
I want to talk in my mother tongue
I want to live in my home
I want to tell my Father to come and rescue.
My language lost
My identity lost.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Another Poem For Marvin, Who Is Not Responding To A Calling
“Literature takes shape and life in the body,
in the wombs of the mother tongue.”
- Ursula K. Le Guin
marvin, this time
this is the only time that you are called for this mission
the tongue
of your mother,
go back to it
take your shape
and life there
the reason why
we were defeated
it is their tongue that we are using
and on the first poem that we made
they were laughing
and laughing still
how much useless effort shall we waste some more?
and how many fools will there be like us
laughing when they laugh at us
and still imitating their tongues
when they have become so humiliatingly poisonous?
do you still remember how your mother tongue sound?
it is sweet, so sweet marvin
i hear the songs of the angels and they are all waiting.
the place that i have told you
i will meet you there
cindy and candice are waiting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I, She And Silence
First, first...
Over phone...
"Hello"... "Hello"
For hours… sweet talk…
Many a laugh…
3 years later...
Face to face
"Hi"... "Hi"
Two shy smiles…
Silence...
Two cups of coffee...
Silence...
While parting two broad grins...
Silence…
She turned aside …bit her lips
I sighed…scratched head
Silence…silence…silence…
2 days later........
Over phone...
"Hello"..."Hello"
for hours …sweet talk…
Many a laugh
poem by Sathya Narayana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Not a barrier- the language
Music has no language,
I can enjoy your tongue.
Glances have no language,
I can understand their intentions.
Touches have no language,
I can feel their meanings.
Not in same tongue though we are
No less do we communicate.
20.01.99, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Out of Sight
They held a polo meeting at a little country town,
And all the local sportsmen came to win themselves renown.
There came two strangers with a horse, and I am much afraid
They both belonged to what is called "the take-you-down brigade".
They said their horse could jump like fun, and asked an amateur
To ride him in the steeplechase, and told him they were sure
The last time round he'd sail away with such a swallow's flight
The rest would never see him go -- he's finish out of sight.
So out he went; and, when folk saw the amateur was up,
Some local genius called the race "the Dude-in-Danger Cup".
The horse was known as "Who's Afraid", by "Panic" from "The Fright" --
But still his owners told the jock he's finish out of sight.
And so he did; for Who's Afraid, without the least pretence,
Disposed of him by rushing through the very second fence;
And when they ran the last time round the prophecy was right --
For he was in the ambulance, and safely "out of sight".
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who's That Girl?
Who's that girl?
The language of love
Slips from my lover's tongue
Cooler than ice cream
And warmer than the sun
Dumb hearts get broken
Just like china cups
The language of love
Has left me broken on the rocks
But there's just one thing
(Just one thing)
But there's just one thing
And I really wannna know
Who's that girl
Running around with you?
Tell me
Who's that girl
Running around with you?
The language of love
Has left me stony grey
Tongue tied and twisted
At the price I've had to pay
Your careless notions
Have silenced these emotions
Look at all the foolishness
Your lover's talk has done
song performed by by Eurythmics from Touch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Whos That Girl?
Whos that girl?
The language of love
Slips from my lovers tongue
Cooler than ice cream
And warmer than the sun
Dumb hearts get broken
Just like china cups
The language of love
Has left me broken on the rocks
But theres just one thing
(just one thing)
But theres just one thing
And I really wannna know
Whos that girl
Running around with you?
Tell me
Whos that girl
Running around with you?
The language of love
Has left me stony grey
Tongue tied and twisted
At the price Ive had to pay
Your careless notions
Have silenced these emotions
Look at all the foolishness
Your lovers talk has done
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ode To The Child
the child is the
father, mother
mentor of the man
he gathers the whole
language for him
his mother tongue
with all the shades of meaning
in the first many years of his life
when you hear a man speak
he is speaking the tongue
of his childhood
when you hear a man lie
he is lying on the inoncence
of his childhood
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Other
I do not have to be mad
For the anger to build up within me
I am a human being
Money and fame come and go
But we long for few things
I being a father of children
Become a child
I have a mother
But find a mother in other
When other does bother
I am the happiest
But when the other ignores
I go wild
Use words
Which are called obscene
Where's obscenity when
Everything is open
Give me a better word angel
I will change my language
Anger builds up from within
I am called mad
But a mad person rushes
For anything and everything
Sane seldom care
May be mad are better
In understanding the needs
Anger builds up from within
But anger is not anger
We are lost as ever for words
Give me a better word angel
I will change my language
Anger here is a hunger
I remain hungry for words
And for affection
Which I shower on the other all the time
Words never come
I see the tears
I cannot wipe
Who am I?
I can only cry
Anger will remain
I express
I am a child
Cannot hide my feelings
Please be my mother
You the other
You are distant
But other part of me
poem by Richie John Pais
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Suicidal English
A front to bulldoze the world?
The humble English language inches
Its way round the world picking up
A snobbishness that many ignorant
Souls would die to keep as if it is
The language of their souls
Particularly among Asiatics
Where some happily give up their
Mother tongue just to flaunt
Their mastery of a tongue
Which carries no historical naunces
Of their own, no cultural sounds
Which have taken an eternity.
To emerge in their own lingo;
A treasure then blindly
Carted away in the backyard,
A superficial sophistication keenly pursued;
Its attainment accentuating the
Shallowness and inadequacy of
Their own personality, identity and growth.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The language with largest vocabulary
It has only seven letters
And has the largest vocabulary
There is no dearth
Of expression
For any situation or emotion
One same thing
Can mean a million things
King Solomon deciphered
Ants’ impression using this language
Indian mythology has it that
A much revered teacher
Taught all his disciples
Using this language
Clearing their all doubts
On any subject
It is not written
It is not spoken
It is not heard
But has in-depth meaning
And a lot application
It is not formally taught
As it has no syllabus
People pick up this
In their life paths
Some do not just pick this up
But, make excellent use of it
And successfully overcome
Difficult and challenging maneuvers
This language came into being
Long before the creation of this universe
Yes, it is not a just a global language
It is a universal language
This is in use world over
This is a common language
But often not used
This language has no grammar
No problem of spelling words wrong
There are no present, future or past tenses
There is no subject, predicate or object
As there are no sentences framed with this language
When used the person can still keep smiling
Often understood as a consent granted
Even the just new born is
As much as much eloquent
With this language
As the person who is preparing for departure
There is none to teach
But the language is learnt
The language is quoted as golden
As it can hurt no one
Much learned people resort to this
When they are to negotiate
Challenging situations
Some great philosophers
Teach their students
Comprehensively with the use of this language
By using this language
You are sure to win
Great many things
Use this wonder language
Effectively and appropriately
The language of silence
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tongue tied
Whenever I lie I seem to get tongue tied,
On the face of it you may well think it's fine,
But it makes me sigh and I have even cried,
As it leads one to a life of poor design,
I hate when people say that lying is bad,
Sometimes it's the best option that is at hand,
For telling the truth can make people feel sad,
Or lead you to enduring things you can't stand,
Like assessing the appearance of a friend,
Being made to read the writings of laymen,
Having to attend a play in the West End,
Or visiting a relative yet again,
I've often done things I'd rather not have done,
Such as kissing an unappealing person,
Or doing stuff that others seem to find fun,
And so I wish to change before things worsen,
I heard there was someone who knew of a cure,
And so I went off so as to find out more,
With time I found the one I was looking for,
They gave advice which was best not to ignore,
I went and put a piece of ice on my tongue,
Hoping I couldn't lie if my mouth was numb,
I even tried eating a bee to get stung,
However my speech suffered as an outcome,
I altered the language in which I express,
Lest English was that with which my plight depends,
With the use of sign language I found success,
But I couldn't communicate with my friends,
I guess that all of my efforts were in vain,
I'll now have to speak words that are genuine,
Endure the consequences and not complain,
Either that or learn to lace my words with spin.
poem by Christian Lacdael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!