Touch me not!
Have you ever seen the freshly pressed flowers,
Crumbled in the crowded buses of the third world?
Catching and traveling in a bus is a task, not worth,
To spend at least few hours on the dusty roads,
For a few kilometer ride to their purposeful target,
Where they are pressed with all kinds of weapons kept,
In the trousers, held in the hands and on the bodies,
Of the estrogen seeking cowards, who travel,
In the buses to get the cheap pleasure and delight,
Out of the innocence of our young girls and women going to school,
Colleges and work, even the elderly women not spared,
For the scent that remained, O God, Do you see us suffer,
On the roads of poverty stricken countries? Please offer,
The space as we need to do our daily chores,
Teach and correct them that molesting is bad and dire.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Three Wonderful Sisters!
All of the three sisters
got married to their maternal uncle.
They were taken to Chennai City
for black-topping work on the roads.
The platform was their shelter for the night
and witnessed all the cheating
and the beating going on in open.
When there was no work
they wouldn't go back to their far away town.
They would get into the crowded buses
lured some drooling men
with provocative behaviour.
As they were well-dressed,
well-mannered people didn't doubt them.
They picked pockets and the women
lost their wallets and gold chains.
But they didn't fail to share
the money earned by labour, with their uncle.
On an unauspicious day,
a police team in plain clothes
intercepted the signals
they were sending to each other in a bus
and caught them all red-handed
with the help of the passengers
who dare not touch men-pocket-pickers.
Even the bus-conductors keep mum
when the habitual men-thieves
hit sixers and boundaries in the jam-packed buses.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Girls vs. Women
Girls are insecure; Women are confident.
Girls dress trashy; Women dress classy.
Girls are students; Women are teachers.
Girls are listeners; Women are preachers.
Girls makes babies; Women raise babies.
Girls have sex; Women make love.
Girls are weak; Women are strong.
Girls fight; Women walk away.
Girls argue; Women speak.
Girls give in; Women compromise.
Girls envy. Women appreciate.
Girls give up. Women strive.
Girls look. Women see.
Girls take. Women give.
Girls follow; Women influence.
poem by Christina E. Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Transport.
I thought I would write about, how we get about,
The various kinds of transport we see, when we are out;
It could be trains, or cars, buses, and trucks we see too,
So let me write a poem, maybe of interest to some of you.
Firstly I will write about, planes we see in the sky,
Small little 2 seaters, some may use to parachute, they'll try;
Next, is the helicopter, look like an insect flying so high,
And there are jets, of all kinds, but you can't see them fly.
Next. Is the trains, with large engines travelling along,
Then there's the small trains fixing the rails where they belong;
And what about the commuter trains, who take people everywhere,
Some in Sydney two levels, and people need to use the stair.
Now I come to trucks, all sizes and shapes and color,
Rubbish, milk, food trucks, then the giant coal mine ones with an odor;
There's the postal, and the fire truck, just too many to name,
But can't forget those council trucks, taking animals, that's a shame.
So what about buses and taxis, who come in handy,
When there is no trains to use, that's from city to dandy;
There are the usual cabs, and the maxi taxi,
So what a ride from anywhere in the coaches, but not for me.
The best sort of transport for disabled like me,
Is the motorised chair or scooter for us to get about,
But to travel to anywhere buses leave us out.
And so I'm glad there are scooters, and that makes me happy.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Roads We Travel
There are many roads we travel
And probably most we leave behind
We continue to walk ahead of us
New fresh roads we want to find
And sometimes we wonder
If we took the best road we could
If we could erase them and start over
We often think perhaps we would
Some roads we travel often though
Off and on throughout the years
They get worn and sad and weary
And we shed so many tears
But we try to put them behind us
And trudge bravely on ahead
Trying very heard to not look back
But find great new roads instead
So no matter where we’ve been
As our lives we continue to unravel
We all just try to do our best
With the many roads we travel!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When is the dawn?
I walked miles after miles on these dusty roads,
Wearing comfortable shoes to protect my sore feet,
This place is an example how a country,
Should not be managed and messed up.
This area exemplifies to prove the poverty,
That is churned out from corruption.
Every level of this country is well corrupted,
Politicians, judiciary, administrative and common men,
Who have some power to extract few dollars and cents.
Most men look sickly, but the women look all right,
Terribly skeletal human can be found here,
Walking, running and pedaling for money.
Cute broad eyes that look at me piercingly,
Poking my inability to talk about their miseries,
Half eaten stomach can't be filled with water,
Even the water is scarce; don't ask for clean water,
The corporation sends the water of various smells,
No program can be watched continuously,
As there is power interruption every other hour,
I have many yellow singlets after putting,
The white materials in the washing machine,
The air is humid or scorching hot in summer,
Very cold and shivering in winter,
The rivers run knee deep in the rainy season,
On the roads, collecting the rubbish and then float,
I have seen mosques everywhere and hear their prayers,
One after another nonstop for ten minutes or more,
Sometimes I thank the power interruption,
Why we have to reassure that Almighty is great,
Every five hours, but the Almighty has not been kind,
To these poor souls who are wearing dirty clothes,
Kneel down on the floor to worship Him for love,
Almighty has bestowed them with lots of love,
So they have created 160 million people so far,
When private sector flourishes,
The public sector is in a filthy state,
Railways, Roads and battered buses,
Filled with people, three hours to catch a bus,
To work and another three hours to go back,
People are waiting day and night,
They are waiting everywhere with a hope,
They are waiting for the fresh dawn,
That brings them normal life and security.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Roads Are Built
They drill and bite the ground for hours,
My family just devours.
The roads are built forcibly and wrongly
For the longer days will forbid duty strongly.
Cars are correct, buses are bossy,
The roadways are built powerfully.
We shall drive our mighty rivers of concrete
Like major knowledge of an athlete.
Where is the beat of the river’s water?
Inside the shoes and limbs of the driver.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Women's Day.
Why at all there should be
A Women's day?
Do any day passes without
A woman, delivering a child,
Do noot work at home,
Do all the chores for all,
She has the only capabilty,
To produce, she brings up
Men and women differently,
Will the day come,
when she will rise in her mind
To be an equal, teach men
To be of the same brain and brawn,
When will she understand,
She is superior in her
Suffering in the world,
Both for her sons, daughters
Of all the one she hears about,
The day she realises her capacity,
Only then the Women's day
disappear into oblivion,
Till then best wishes, best wishes,
To all women in the world.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Truck
Truck ponders on its rust and grenades,
Crackling wheels surround kinetic roads.
Inside the buried name of crawling words
Hits flesh with flesh - the road is at end!
The parabola was twisting the scene,
Drags as themselves were masterful;
Twisting and creaking, the metal of
This code took contours at the leisure.
My mouth is glum towards the very dark lad,
The lad who highly recommends me to stay put.
I watched and learned of mania at the buses,
Buses carried on regardless, justice was the chief!
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I don't see women and think of them as competition or with judgment. Women really move me. I feel connected to all kinds of women. I am angry because I think we've been mistreated throughout history in different countries, including America. I admire women.
quote by Salma Hayek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Women
I love women, I think theyre great
Theyre a solace to the world in a terrible state
Theyre a blessing to the eyes, a balm to soul
What a nightmare to have no women in the world
I love women
I love women
I love women
We all love women
I used to look at women in the magazines
I know that it was sexist, but I was in my teens
I was very bitter, all my sex was on the sly
I couldnt keep my hands off women, and I wont till I die
I love women
Ah, I love women
We love women
We all love women
A womans love can lift you up, and women can inspire
I feel like buying flowers and hiring a celestial choir
A choir of castratis to serenade my love
Theyd sing a little bach for us and then wed make love
I love women
I love women
We all love women
We love women
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Meek Shall Inherit
Women are searching for their own identities
And rightfully so.
They contribute so much- and that we all know.
From the laymen positions to the greatest professions
To do good is their obsession.
Business women, doctors, lawyers too
They know exactly what they have to do.
Perseverance is the key
To reach their dreams, their realities.
They say the meek shall inherit the earth
Women are taking it for all its worth.
Women do not want to be superior to men
But they don’t want to be inferior neither.
(note: if the lord did take a rib from man to create women
(and as men we do everything to protect our bodies
(that rib also protects us from internal injuries)
If the roles were reversed- what would you do?
Wouldn’t you want recognition too.
In some countries women must cover
Themselves from head to toe.
Then what do they look like? You’ll never know!
Why should they cover what GOD has given
Women s beauties is what makes this life worth living!
The outer beauty may be covered
But the inner beauties have yet to rise.
It can not be covered with any disguise.
Women are not as weak as we think them to be
They have more strength than we could see.
Can men endure the pains of birth as women do?
To all women: “ my hat is off to you”.
The meek shall inherit the earth
I believe it to be true!
BUT MAYBE! It’s the peacemakers?
I’ve thought about that too.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's A Sunday Morning
Birds out of their nests
Flowers blooming large
Many friends still in bed
Having a good rest
No hustling bustling
In the streets
Children
In color uniforms
Missing from the roads
Metro and buses
Sighing in relief
Mummies trying hard
To get their young ones
Out of the beds
They react by saying
Mamma let me sleep
It's a Sunday morning
23-08-2012
694-54-08-12
Dr.Rajen dra Tela, Nirantar
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In our Nation, approximately 22.5 million children ride school buses to and from school each day, which accounts for 54 percent of all students attending grade school.
quote by Kenny Marchant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Lover's Gifts LXX: Take Back Your Coins
Take back your coins, King's Councillor. I am of those women you
sent to the forest shrine to decoy the young ascetic who had never
seen a women. I failed in your bidding.
Dimly day was breaking when the hermit boy came to bathe in
the stream, his tawny locks crowded on his shoulders, like a
cluster of morning clouds, and his limbs shining like a streak of
sunbeam. We laughed and sang as we rowed in our boat; we jumped
into the river in a mad frolic, and danced around him, when the sun
rose staring at us from the water's edge in a flush of divine
anger.
Like a child-god, the boy opened his eyes and watched our
movements, the wonder deepening till his eyes shone like morning
stars. He lifted his clasped hands and chanted a hymn of praise in
his bird-like young voice, thrilling every leaf of the forest.
Never such words were sung to a mortal woman before; they were like
the silent hymn to the dawn which rises from the hushed hills. THe
women hid their mouths with their hands, their bodies swaying with
laughter, and a spasm of doubt ran across his face. Quickly came
I to his side, sorely pained, and, bowing to his feet, I said,
"Lord, accept my service."
I led him to the grassy bank, wiped his body with the end of
my silken mantle, and, kneeling on the ground, I dried his feet
with my trailing hair. When I raised my face and looked into his
eyes, I thought I felt the world's first kiss to the first woman,
-Blessed am I, blessed is God, who made me a woman. I heard him say
to me, "What God unknown are you? YOur touch is the touch of the
Immortal, your eyes have the mystery of the midnight."
Ah, no, not that smile, King's Councillor, -the dust of
worldly wisdom has covered your sight, old man. But this boy's
innocence pierced the mist and saw the shining truth, the woman
divine....
The women clapped their hands, and laughed their obscene
laugh, and with veils dragged on the dust and hair hanging loose
they began to pelt him with flowers.
Alas, my spotless sun, could not my shame weave fiery mist to
cover you in its folds? I fell at his feet and cried, "Forgive me.
" I fled like a stricken deer through shade and sun, and cried as
I fled, " Forgive me. " The women's foul laughter pressed me like
a cracking fire, but the words ever rang in my ears, " What God
unknown are you?"
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Women
Women behind bars, women in fast cars, women in distress, women with no dress
Women in airplanes, women who play games
Women in uniform, see that woman with her clothes gone
Women who satisfy, women you cant buy
Like women in magazines, and women in a limousine
Women who sip champagne, women who feel no pain
Women in a disco, and women who dont wanna know, no no
Oh, women wanting sympathy, women feeling extacy
Women who live in fantasies, bringing man to his knees
Women who boil to love, women who need a shove
Women who cant be beat, get that woman in the back seat, yeah yeah
Women in the usa, those women steal your heart away
Women into rock n roll, women who steal the show, go go go
Women that you write songs about, women that turn around and kick you out
Women you dream about all your life
Women that stab you in the back with a switchblade knife
Oh women, oohoo, talking bout women, all round the world
Yeah women, all the naughty girls, talking bout women, come on baby
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Our Roads On Earth
Each trip commences with a step
We all have trips to make
We traverse different roads in life
As one goes up
Another goes down
Some go through long roads
Others have shorter paths to tread
Our daily trips are divine
As we journeyed towards life trips
Some roads are bumpy
Some are smooth
Some have stamina for marathon
Some move faster in a dash
Either long or short
Trials, challenges, obstacles
Are features to wrestle with on our roads
We need to be resilent
We need to damn odds
Whatever lane of the roads we are
Steadfastness is needed
Our trips on these roads
Shall end successfully
If we hold on to God..
poem by Babatunde Aremu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who Is Rich?
I strive to be rich,
to travel on the roads,
of the capital cities,
in Sedan or limousine.
I work hard to be rich,
to find a lot in Beverly hills,
to buy an aircraft and
a hover to fly and float.
I work day and half night,
to be rich to others sight,
to smoke a cigar of an inch,
and a few girls to pinch.
scanty girls of Los vegas,
dress up, for a living,
trendy sad faced Indians,
walk alone for a living.
I want to be rich,
traveling as a rat,
through the holes of,
capital cities.
She wants to be rich,
He wants to be rich and
we want to be rich, but
people call us rich.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paths Of Victory
Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
I shall walk.
The trail is dusty
And my road it might be rough,
But the better roads are waiting
And boys it aint far off.
Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
We shall walk.
I walked down by the river,
I turned my head up high.
I saw that silver linin
That was hangin in the sky.
Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
We shall walk.
The evenin dusk was rollin,
I was walking down the track.
There was a one-way wind a-blowin
And it was blowin at my back.
Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
We shall walk.
The gravel road is bumpy,
Its a hard road to ride,
But theres a clearer road a-waitin
With the cinders on the side.
Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
We shall walk.
That evening train was rollin,
The hummin of its wheels,
My eyes they saw a better day
As I looked across the fields.
Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
We shall walk.
The trail is dusty,
The road it might be rough,
But the good road is a-waitin
And boys it aint far off.
Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
We shall walk.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The School at Kathirimalai (Erode District in Tamil Nadu)
The kids of the tribes in Kathirihills
had trekked 28 Kms through dense forests
for catching a bus to the Collectorate
and appealing to have teachers to their school.
If the men and women who served as ministers
and officers of the Erode District
couldn't have felt sorry after reading
this news from 'The Times of India',
they are not worthy to be 'a human being'.
The winding roads with hairpin bends
in the Eastern and the Western Ghats
were laid when the English enslaved India.
Once the Britishers left, our robbers took the reins
and found national and regional parties,
religious, secular and castiest outfits
to feel the pulse of the administration
and push their men into positions to loot.
The golden rule of building dams in Tamil Nadu
and starting schools in far-flung hills,
laying roads to interior hamlets
and feeding the learning children with meals
and touching not the sweaty notes of the farmers
for giving jobs to their skilled boys and girls
ended with the saga of the freedom fighters.
When the tribals are devoid of basic facilities,
the politicians live in palatial bungalows.
They shift their abodes and wives as the clime varies.
If they live in simple houses and set their foot
in stinking lanes, they could have felt for the tribes.
Seventy children have no teachers in that school!
But you see two, three teachers in schools around cities
where the strength of the students be in single digits,
singing paeans to officers and the bigwigs
and enjoying all the allowances for the cities.
Lay a road to Kathirimalai and ply the buses.
All the facilities they will have including the nets.
The leader of the tribals, 'Ramasamy'
who led the children to the Collector's office
is the real leader, the Tamils need at present
and not the bogus ones with make-up, who cheat and rob.
Let the officers be freed to roam in all the places
where the people groan for basic things
and do their best service to the poor.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fresh
Magical twisted river winding through the land before time
Silhouettes of lovers dancing on the sands
The birds first break of chourus into the morning light
And the first kiss of the sun on trees extracting from them glorious shades of green
Fresh is the kiss of the young lovers as they stand holding hands
Fresh is the morning breeze briskly brushing through their hair
Fresh the first sip of crystal waters scooped lovingly into his hand
Fresh her lips pressed against his in an embrace of innocence
The scent of her more than any man in his lifetime can imagine
His masucline features more than any young girl could resist
As they press themselves closer together entwined they realise
On this first day of forever this is the beginning of time
New love and creation set forth on this day of days
The whole world seemingly new and refreshed with most astounding simplicity
Carefree as the wind they walk together
This is eternity this is the beginning this is the end, this is their time
Fresh is the kiss of the young lovers as they stand holding hands
Fresh is the morning breeze briskly brushing through their hair
Fresh the first sip of crystal waters scooped lovingly into his hand
Fresh her lips pressed against his in an embrace of innocence
poem by Nikki Hays
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!