Valmiki In Bhopal
Once
At the bank of river Tamasa
Someone killed a karchana separating it from its mate
Those who used to make a living
To them was uttered
A hot blast of condemnation
And this blast gave birth to
The first culture of humankind
From the furrows of the plough was germinated
A far-reaching revolution...
Seeta
The child of my fields
Seeta
The mother of my green crops
Seeta
The future of my golden harvest...
And was written
The Ramayana: The odyssey of the Lord Rama
Today
At the bank of a lake
By the wind carrying Death within it
Were killed
So many fathers, so many sons
So many beloveds, so many mothers
Today
Won’t there be any more transformed robber
Whose
Poetic voice would announce
An inevitable anathema
To that way of life
Which, bewitching with the will-o-wisp of development
Dries up the foundations of future existence
Won’t there be written
With union of crops and steel
A new epic
Whose name would be
Manavayana: The odyssey of the humankind?
poem by Navakanta Barua
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Related quotes
Love is not rational
The loved one does not love me back;
The loving one does not get my love.
Who you love and who loves you
Aren’t one and the same person.
I’m dear to my mother and
My daughter is dear to me.
Mandothari loved Ravana
And Ravana was mad of Seeta.
The real love is neither mutual
Nor reciprocal nor conditional.
Love is not rational; but instinctual.
28.07.2009
[The characters are from the epic, Ramayana.
Mandothari was in ardent love for her husband King Ravana, who was mad of Sita, wife of Prince Rama]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Seeta, a pity.
Seeta, you are a noble lady,
So chaste, so modest and so graceful.
Rama is your noble lord,
So virtuous, so chivalrous and so truthful.
Ravna is your bitter lover,
So passionate, so devoted and so lustful.
Rama waged a war to redeem you.
Ravna laid his life to retain you.
Rama loved you, as you are his wife.
Ravna wanted you for what you are.
Rama tested you by fire.
If you failed, what would be your fate?
Can Ravna do so, if he were in Rama’s shoes?
Love of Rama is conditional
Love of Ravna is categorical.
Rama loves you; Ravna devours you.
You are second to none to Ravna,
Who lost everything for you and
Who could do anything for you?
Have not you committed a sin
In being the cause for killing a loving dog?
The love for keeping chastity,
More than you love for Rama,
Weighed on you to reject Ravna.
The love for your chastity,
Rather than his love for you,
Weighed on Rama to own you back.
Ravna’s love for you is pure.
He desired you more than Rama did.
You would have lived more vividly
Had you met Ravna first and married.
Instead, you were at loss to earn a sin.
I pity you.
06.06.2002, pakd
[Based on the Hindu Epic
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Bank Robber Man
I was walking down the street today
Just as somebody blew the doors off of the B of A
Just then I head them call my name
As I was thrown against the car
I was being framed
All units we've got our man
We've got the bank robber man
We don't need no reason
You're going in the can
You look like the bank robber man
I think you misunderstand
Do you think that I am the one that did it
Just because I'm tan?
Just then the officer at hand said
I don't give a damn that you are in a rock and roll band
All units we've got our man
We've got the bank robber man
We don't need no reason
You're going in the can
You look like the bank robber man
Just tell me what's going on ?
Can you tell me what I did wrong ?
Does busting me make you feel strong ?
Make you feel strong
All units we've got our man
We've got the bank robber man
We don't need no reason
You're going in the can
You look like the bank robber man
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Lenny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A War Between Ravna And Kauravas
Rama fought Ravna and killed him.
The good prevailed over the evil.
Thus spoke Ramayana the Epic.
Pandavas fought Kauravas and killed them.
The justice prevailed over the wrong.
Thus spoke Mahabharata the Epic.
What if Ravna and Gowrava fought?
It is happening in politics now.
04.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Pages of Life
Yesterday's page has benn written
it is over.
Tomorrow's page has to be written,
it is still has to come.
But,
Today's page can be written,
only by you.
It is only yours'
so, live the best today by correcting your past pages
and making ways for your future roads.
Life is yours' and live it to the fullest.
Today,
never think about past,
erase them from your mind,
think about future,
by writing your today.
poem by Yashika Goyal
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Slipped Away
Good morning son
It's off to school you go
Mom's gone to work you know
Mom when are you coming home
There's a bank robbery that's going on
Ooh this very morn
Mom's gone to wrok for sure
Mom when are you coming home
Officers the bank is being held
By two gunmen that don't mean well
Mom's on the job can't you tell
Mom when are you coming home
Mom when are you coming home
To see your son
Daughter don't be a policeman
Please be a school teacher instead
You're so good with the children
Mom when are you coming home
Teacher please excuse these boys from class
Their mother gone from a gunshot blast
Another cop shot down on patrol
Mom when are you coming home
Mom when are you coming home
To see your son
The gangsters killed our mother dead
All is lost from our family
They tried to save our mom in vain
She drowned in blood and she was not saved
The bank is open and the robbers jailed
And mom won't be coming home
The way they run their world so wrong
How can us brothers get along
Mom when are you coming home
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today...
Today, the leaves were greener
Today, the sky wasn’t grey
Today, the sun was brighter
Yes, it changed today
Today, people transformed
Today, they weren’t rude
Today, I felt loved
All just today, it’s true
Today, I lived for today
Today, was not for the future
Today, was a great day
Not menial, tiring, brutal
Today, I laughed in silence
Today didn’t make me cry
Today, everything became clearer
But, today, I couldn’t figure out why
And today, if everything changed
And today, if it wasn’t a dream
I don’t know what happened
But today will become everyday, it seems.
poem by Shreya Madhogarhia
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My river bank
The water hit the bank
Like a wave upon a shore
Happiness just out of reach
Finding that is something you can’t teach
No one to talk to
No one to see
As you can tell just me
I sit alone on my river bank
No happy people passing by as I let out a gentle sigh
I realized I sit alone on my river bank
Unreal happiness in this unreal tournament they call life
I sit alone, isolated on my river bank
I shall always sit alone on my river bank
I will always be alone on this river bank
poem by EmOzEd johnston
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Menaka Turned Lakshmi
In many a film in the past,
Did I see in you, Simran,
A Meneka, a Ramba,
A Urvesi and a Thilothma.
I took you {image} to my bed.
In this film only,
Did I see in you,
A goddess Lekshmi,
An avatar of Seeta.
I took you {image} to my shrine.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Vedic Conversion
The Veda is sacred; its hymens are sacred.
The Veda is holy; its hymns are holy.
We were told to toe; we were led to toe.
The nomadic tribe has brought it with them.
Buddhism was banished; Jainism vanished.
Natives were driven; Dravidians subverted.
It is the Aryans who conquered the continent.
It is the Aryans who remodelled its culture.
Success in war, stealing of cattle,
Love making, illogical rituals,
No moral codes, no benevolent deeds-
These are all the Vada speaks out
Manu codified Varnasrama Dharma.
Manu glorified kings and their style.
Manu crucified women’s interests.
Manu stupefied Sudhras and Dalits.
The Ramayana, an epic, lofted Rama
To a God Incarnation, who killed
Ravana, a Shiva devoee, thus holding
The supremacy of Aryans and Rama.
The Mahabharata tells godliness of Krishna,
Whose crafts in strategy of war
Belies his Geetha’s teachings of doing
Duties with detachment for the end.
Aryan revivalism rears its head.
They are out to eradicate gods
Other than their Rama and Krishna.
They want to make flourish
The Brahmin’s superiority and nobility
Over all indigenous Gods and culture.
11.10.2000
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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For rarely are sons similar to their fathers: most are worse, and a few are better than their fathers.
I Do Not Feel Very Poetic Today
I do not feel very poetic today-
And now I make that feeling the ‘subject’ of a poem-
Once Poetry seemed to be confined
To certain more sublime subjects -
But in our time
When every Form seems to expand to take into itself its opposite
Poetry makes itself of the non- poetic also -
There is no subject apparently
Which is non- poetic
Once a poem is written about it-
I do not feel very poetic today
And these plain and unbeautiful lines
This awkward presentation
Is what I am capable of
Poem or not,
I have written it now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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All my life I wanted to be a bank robber. Carry a gun and wear a mask. Now that it's happened I guess I'm just about the best bank robber they ever had. And I sure am happy.
quote by John Dillinger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They Gave Their All
I may not understand the wars
Or the fields of rotting corpses
I've read all the poems
Of wars from the past
And cannot imagine
The life lived back then
A blood soaked battlefield
Death wading with glee
At those that have fallen
For the right to be free
So many souls lost in time
Fighting a cause, humanity blind
Dare I say, what I read?
In between the lines
A poet soldier
Who needs to be free?
Do I have a right?
To question their fight
They gave their all
In what they believed
Teardrops fall as I continue my rhyme
But what I do understand
Is that they fought through all the wars
So that we can be free
To choose our lives
And live to be
What we want to be
All the bloodshed fields
The entire hero's lost in wars
I bow my head, and pray to thee
Thank you all
For letting me breathe
To learn and discover
The meaning of me
Tears trickle down
As I cry for your loss
You never got the chance to be free
You never found your path in life
You never came home to your loved ones, friends, and family
So what gives us the right?
The generation of today
To say how boring
Our life is today
When those in war
Never had a full life
They gave it all
So we could be free
To live a full life
I thank the hero's
Of past, present and yet to be
What so sad for humankind
Is that war is our history
Perhaps in the future
We can see peace and harmony
Perhaps dare I say it
A world weapon free
poem by Kaila George
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(Philosphy Poem) A Fear Of The Possible Future
How do we dictate whether there is a time and place for death?
A guided fate as some would say.
A mistake not of your choosing does that make it wrong?
When a doctor or paramedic fails to keep someone alive.
Do we blame them and say it was not his time?
A definition we try to define.
You unintentionally walk into a bank robbery and get shot.
Is it something you should have not?
Or do we blame the bank robber for doing it that specific day?
Injustices are dealt in every way, but in death I believe it is not to be controlled.
A power of the looking glass, how long would you view it to see all the ways it could be prevented.
But you would get so addicted to it, you would never leave, not to eat, not to sleep, not even to relieve yourself you would die there alone out of fear.
All for the chances of fortunes yet to be seen.
Even if you have a winning lottery ticket it still must be redeemed.
And what if on your way to mailing it you got killed by a falling tree.
Who then is at fault, the mystery of the mysterious.
Sometimes it is just your time.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Mothers Always Want Theirs Sons To Be Happy
mothers always want their sons to be happy
and so even if they marry someone
whom their fathers dislike
it is always them who settle for a compromise
and tell fathers to be flexible sometimes
not to hurt the hearts of sons
but sometimes when sons want something else
that only mothers understand
something that fathers cannot really compromise
mothers still compromise
and walk a mile farther
just to make their sons happy
and their sons leave them
to places that only mothers
by their loving hearts
know.
only mothers, yes only mothers,
and no one else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Culture Of Stupidity
Open your naive eyes…..,
To the Culture Of Stupidity….,
It’s all around you….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! !
No way to escape….,
From the Culture Of Stupidity ….,
It haunts and stalks you…,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! !
It’s hard to believe it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….,
That so many can’t see it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity …! !
As liberals keep shying away…..,
From the overwhelming threat…..,
Of radical terrorism today…..,
How long will The Culture Of Stupidity go on….? ?
My answer is as simple as this….,
The Culture Of Stupidity shall live on…..,
As long as humankind and liberalism will exist…! !
poem by Trade Martin
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Tribute to The Garcia Family
Today your life begins all over again,
Today you have the opportunity to be happy in it,
Today you shall experience love, and feel the warmth
Of everyone who loves you more than yesterday.
Today you can choose what to carry with you and what
To leave behind.
Today you have to live your life as you know best.
For today is Golden as today is here, and you are here
To give and accept the love that is deserving.
Today is the culmination of every day past and future too,
For it will be what ever you decide to make it do,
Therefore know the truth, that there is someone out there
That is thinking and loving you.
poem by Charles Garcia
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New Seeds Will Be Sown
Bring in the harvest sheaves, and store
Them safely, on the barn's stone floor.
Let all who've worked to stack and bind,
On the farmhouse table, their cider, find.
They will heartily cheer the farmer's thanks,
Then get up to some quite jovial pranks,
While celebrating a long and hard day's reap,
Before falling soundly off to sleep.
The winter's grain is home and bound,
Taken with skill from the fertile ground.
And in time some new seeds will be sown,
As soon as the frost, snow and ice have flown.
The fields are left, just with rough stubble now,
Ready for furrows to be cut by the plough.
Next year these crops will grow once again,
Helped by the Lord, his sunbeams and rain.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Betrayal at the Worst of Times Needs No Remorse!
A flock of sparrows were twittering
in the branches of the Neem trees.
The cold breeze from the rain-fed tank
was rustling the leaves, embracing
and solacing my body bereft of sleep.
The waves from the watery expanse,
dashing and breaking on the bank
were making regular clapping sounds.
The green paddy crops in the vast stretch of fields
were waving and dancing in the blowing wind.
The bees were straining droning sounds
and the butterflies were sailing over me.
The flowers of wild plants on the slopes of the bank
were flaming in the hot summer.
I was lying on the bank in the shades of the trees,
with my mind roaming around her
and my eyes staring at the sky above.
For betraying me at the worst of times,
she conveyed to me her words of regret,
and wanted to see me once,
to weep out her sinking grief.
But I didn't get a chance to look at that rueful face
and from my heart I couldn't also erase it out.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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