What Could It Be?
At birth it is a rather small
and barely visible at all
identifier for the folks
and butt at times for silly jokes.
It grows, of course, in later years
and on occasion it appears
that it will stand up to attention
though few will point to it or mention
this feat of physiology
some girls do ask 'how can this be? '
The decades take their deadly toll
and if you were to have a poll
you'd keep the size of middle years
because, that's when those little gears
still function freely, cog on cog
and rarely get into a bog.
It's funny, says the narrative
that what starts small can grow so stiff
only to shrink to tiny size.
It must be said that God was wise.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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The Plant upon the Window-sill!
A little plant grows on the window-sill!
Perhaps a fern or shrub of smaller size!
Why it should grow in such a queer site/place?
I wonder how it gets its nutrition!
May be, a bird had placed the seed just there!
How come, it grows despite no soil at all?
I see it flutter in the breeze at times;
I'm sure, it cannot grow to its full size!
My curiosity is evoked much;
What does it try to tell us human folks?
May be, it is a sign of hope for us!
Should we not trust the Maker for our birth?
By habit, we complain when things go wrong;
Our faith in God dithers and wavers much;
We ought to keep steadfast in times of strife!
Our faith gets tested during stress and strain.
The little plant has taught me some wisdom;
It grows because of God's glory on earth!
It does not care for want of nourishment;
It grows for sake of God as long He wants!
Dissatisfaction fills most human hearts;
Discontented, we stay mostly in life;
Should we not thank the Lord for our fine birth?
We ought to live to glorify our God!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 18-08-12
poem by John Celes
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Stella's Birthday March 13, 1719
Stella this day is thirty-four,
(We shan't dispute a year or more:)
However, Stella, be not troubled,
Although thy size and years are doubled,
Since first I saw thee at sixteen,
The brightest virgin on the green;
So little is thy form declin'd;
Made up so largely in thy mind.
Oh, would it please the gods to split
Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit;
No age could furnish out a pair
Of nymphs so graceful, wise, and fair;
With half the lustre of your eyes,
With half your wit, your years, and size.
And then, before it grew too late,
How should I beg of gentle Fate,
(That either nymph might have her swain,)
To split my worship too in twain.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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On Stella's Birth-Day, 1719
Stella this Day is thirty four,
(We shan't dispute a Year or more)
However Stella, be not troubled,
Although thy Size and Years are doubled,
Since first I saw Thee at Sixteen
The brightest Virgin on the Green,
So little is thy Form declin'd
Made up so largely in thy Mind.
Oh, woud it please the Gods to split
Thy Beauty, Size, and Years, and Wit,
No Age could furnish out a Pair
Of Nymphs so graceful, Wise and fair
With half the Lustre of your Eyes,
With half your Wit, your Years and Size:
And then before it grew too late,
How should I beg of gentle Fate,
(That either Nymph might have her Swain,)
To split my Worship too in twain.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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Sonnet: Belittle None
Such distant stars appear like tiny dots!
Who cares for them if starry be night-sky?
A tree can’t grow fully if placed in pots;
Unless ’tis transplanted, it tends to die.
From earth, the clouds though small can obstruct gaze;
When you travel by plane, they look huge size;
The nearest star to reach may take you days;
While from a plane, earths-men look like just mice.
Distance is important in telling size;
Beholder’s eyes too equally matters;
Some men are stupid mostly, sometimes wise;
A beggar wears but clothes in just tatters.
All things are equal in the eyes of God;
And creatures all, He had made from only Clod!
poem by John Celes
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Being Tall
Those men who are considered tall,
defined as more than five foot nine,
are smarter than the ones who’re small.
that’s less than five foot nine. That’s fine
by me, for I was, in my prime,
a little more than five foot ten,
and though I’ve shrunk, it’s not yet time
for me to join the little men
who’re under five foot nine, becoming
less smart than I was when I stood
as tall as smart men, not down dumbing
myself so I’d be understood
by those who are so tiny that
they cannot follow mighty minds
of those who’re tall. Nobility
of soul I claim so long as I
retain with my virility
the size that girls like in a guy,
not small but smart. I’ll deal with fat
in my next poem. Big behinds
don’t correlate with smartness but
that topic is on my agenda
in what I'll call 'Of Brain and Butt, ”
which is a head and tail rear-ender.
poem by Gershon Hepner
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A Family Is Like A Tree
A tree is like a family it starts
out very small but it soon begins
to grow and the family too also
grows.
The tree starts out with small branches.
A family ita a child.
as the years go by they have all
grown together.
Soon the tree has been generated with
new branches and too the family expands
not with branches, but generations.
.Their both so much a like in so many
ways., if nurtured and taken care of
they both will grow straight. and tall.
And generate many new branch
and many more generations too
come as the tree grows old
some branches will die and fall off.
When the generations of a family
get old they too will die off.
But both will leave something of
themselves behind.
.
To live on for many generations of
life and many generations of branches..
GAYLE GOFF
2008
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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It is only fantasy, not true!
Just imagine that earth is the size of a pinhead,
The universe may be the size of the earth.
when The universe is the size of the earth.
that earth may be the size of a pinhead,
The maximum time difference is less than a day,
Wherever we travel on the earth in pain or gay,
When we travel east or west, we either lose or gain,
A few of hours of the past and the future,
when the morning arrives earlier or later,
While the people, their age and their progress are the same,
But we gain or lose only less than a day on this planet of a pinhead.
When we travel in the universe which is the size of the earth,
How many years and decades that we need to go for a round,
When we travel east and west, we lose and gain in years,
Many years of past and the future that exists at the same moment,
So, when the time travelers return, they wouldn't be younger, not lament,
To look for their gone ancestors in the changed land scape,
As the human wherever they go and whatever they do,
They age at same pause gradually, not one age faster,
The other remain younger during the same period of roster.
I am a time traveler to travel faster to reach the future,
or dig the past, I am always the contemporary human to ponder.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Plus Size
Are u a plus size girl?
Now dun be mad, girl
Just stating a fact, girl
Not that you overeat, girl
Sometimes it could be, girl
A medical condition, girl
Stuck in that position, girls
Being a woman, girls
Juggling career, family, girls
Going into menopause, girls
Can play havoc, girls
To our weight, girls
Hormones at play, girls
Or lack of it, girls
Plus size is in, girls
Throw the diet in the bin, girls
Sexy curves, girls
See Mad Men, girls
See Marilyn Monroe, girls
See Adele, girls
See dropp Dead Diva, girls
See Glee, girls
Watching diet's a pain, girls
So what if we gain, girls
Nobody, nobody but you, girls
Decides what you, girls
Want to be and do, girls
Key is Attitude, girls
Be cool. Peace out!
Sonnet: The Drumstick-Tree’s Growth
Look how the drumstick grows in length each day!
It goes so fast as if our eyes can know;
The fruit though small, grows long in Nature’s way,
And in a few days time, ’tis stick-like, oh!
Incredible it looks when fully grown,
From such a small flower, its present size;
God’s marvel makes man appear like a clown,
And yet, man will not agree God is wise.
The bees and butterflies too play their role;
Seeking nectar, they transfer pollen grains;
What umptine fruits cover the tree-like pole!
The lengthy fruits hang down like giant canes!
The drumstick tree shows God’s work at its best;
How much more wonderful, He’s done the rest!
poem by John Celes
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Alankar (Decor) -11
Symbol-Temple
He makes His abode
Huge much His size
The size of cosmos
Sized full His size
That room is small
But His holy house
He makes His abode
But full His size
Dim, dumb, mute occult
Lit hearts light Him
Leaning on a measure
He sleeps wide awake
Lonely boons line lot
Like Kupera for myself
My soul's hunting quest
VaiththaMaaNidhi peeks
(On a visit to Thirukoloor
one of the 108 Vishnu-shrines)
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Size Doesn’t Matter
I never flatter
Size doesn’t matter!
We are so small but we have come this far
Because of our wisdom that knows no bar!
We are so small but we can understand God
Because we can make our mind extremely broad!
We are so small but we can win a zillion of hearts
Because we can be kind regardless of ifs and buts!
poem by Asif Andalib
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The big difference is the size of the crew and the flexibility of shooting because of the size. I mean, it's crazy. So you can't improvise, you cannot suddenly do something that comes to mind, whereas in a small production you have much more flexibility.
quote by Bille August
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I wish I could shrink down to the size of an ant. And maybe there would be thousands of other people shrunken down to ant-size, and we would get together and dig tunnels down into the ground and live there. But don't ever call us 'ants,' because we hate that.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Horse Pills
So your ex got a mansion where you kick it on the hill,
your boy comes to see you, he's your Hollywood thrill.
He's a Spanish fly, that bucks like a stallion.
In the suits that you got him, he looks more Italian.
You worry bout your tan when the weather's gettin' clammy,
summer in the city and winters in Miami.
You get so high on the high life pills,
cruisin' and boozin' and rockin' on the horse size pills.
You could even take more thrills- you could even take more spills,
pills, thrills, chills and ills man, kills.
And rockin' on the horse size.
Butt's gettin' bigger, do you think he'll notice maybe?
That's ok, don't worry bout it baby!
Cause everybody knows he pumps you for your money, that's alright,
don't worry bout it honey!
In your itsy bitsy teenie weenie riding up your butt bikini.
Keepin' on the heels cause you're saggin'
just a teenie bit more than the girls he pretends he doesn't thrill.
Rubbin' on the lotion, and rockin' on the horse size pills.
You could even take more thrills,
you could even take more spills, pills, thrills, chills, and ills man, kills.
And rockin' on the horse size.
Sometimes you feel like Moses, that's when you're toasted.
Yeah, kick it.
Yo bitch.
That's right, yeah.
Rockin' on the horse size
song performed by by Dandy Warhols
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Small Soul
Small soul’s alone in the night
It’s small
But it’s still a soul
The tiny light
That shines in the dark
Small soul glows dim in the fight
It’s small
But it’s really a soul
Though it looks weak
It’s struggling inside
Small soul keeps attracting my heart
It’s small
But it’s a beautiful soul
It may easily disappear
But it could also grow stronger
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A New World Is In The Coming
Pre-noon, sun preparing to turn harsh
Large shade of a gulmohar tree
A four or so year old boy
Sitting on a small sand heap
Near a construction site
With a blue jeans
Here-and-there torn
White fibres running across the opening
And an odd size dark red colour shirt
His parents working there nearby
Father a mason
Ever busy with mixing cement and sand
And also supervising the work
Of some construction labourers
His mother carrying a head load of bricks
At regular intervals
Once a while she comes near him
And sees from a distance making sure
He is safe and behaving
The boy minds not things around
The horn of a passing car gets unnoticed by him
He knows the car will pass without hurting him
A barking dog cannot threaten him
Nor a cow going very close to him
He is unmoved by any such
Normally-termed unsafe situations
He poses to be smart
As he probably is exposed to these
For more than two years now
He is happy throwing handful of sands around
He makes a small ball of sand
And enjoys the sight of its breaking
At the pressure of his tender fingers
Suddenly he thinks of a small hill
And starts pushing sands
Towards a centre point
So that the collection heaps up to hill
He has almost done it
His dad appears yelling at him
Move away, I need this sand
I am to prepare a fresh mix
Lifts his son single handedly
Practically throwing his son onto the road
The child cries
He can stand hunger,
He can stand un-attending,
He can stand thirst,
He can stand beating,
But not this insult of
Denying him the only play thing, the sand
He started crying pitifully
Mother after unloading her head load of bricks
Comes rushing to her crying son and says
Stop crying, do not worry
A new lorry load of sand will soon come
You can stay atop on a big heap of sand
And play for long
The boy, our hero, understands
Stops crying at once, as he knows
A new world is in the coming
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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This Is My World That Is Your World
This is my world, small as it is,
It is a planet by itself with very
Small moons, and tiny stars,
And so tiny, you cannot just
See me there, I am hiding,
But I still live here just the same,
Breathing atomic air, and drinking
Molecular waters, so you see,
How tiny I could be, how tiny
I could get, but this is my
Small happy world, my smile
My laughter so tiny, that you
Cannot hear, you cannot feel,
And that is your world as big
As the sun, with comets and
Meteors, and so big and so
Wide, with oceans and rivers,
And continents, and gigantic
Arctics, and snowy lands, and
We are then so different, and
With me, there is no problem,
I, in my small world, can fit
In yours, but you, you cannot
Fit in mine, that we must
Accept, I am a small world,
And you are a space still expanding,
Now, do you understand,
why I hide?
why I shy away from you?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Twenty
This is my world, small as it is,
It is a planet by itself with very
Small moons, and tiny stars,
And so tiny, you cannot just
See me there, I am hiding,
But I still live here just the same,
Breathing atomic air, and drinking
Molecular waters, so you see,
How tiny I could be, how tiny
I could get, but this is my
Small happy world, my smile
My laughter so tiny, that you
Cannot hear, you cannot feel,
And that is your world as big
As the sun, with comets and
Meteors, and so big and so
Wide, with oceans and rivers,
And continents, and gigantic
Arctics, and snowy lands, and
We are then so different, and
With me, there is no problem,
I, in my small world, can fit
In yours, but you, you cannot
Fit in mine, that we must
Accept, I am a small world,
And you are a space still expanding,
Now, do you understand,
why I hide?
why I shy away from you?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why Defy Nature's Laws?
Distant objects appear small;
Viewed in proximity
In size manifold increase.
Man, you alone
Fills my heart with awe
From afar!
Lo! abruptly shrink
And smell foul
In your nearness!
Why defy
You alone
Nature's laws?
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Six-Toed Tina
There was a young queen who knew a boy's love,
who ruled a great yard and led a small pride.
From her extra toes to her noble ears,
she was incongruent in scope and size.
Yet her purr was the world to one odd child,
for whom every word was a bur unfair.
Calico and beige, with a mange unfair,
she appeared unkept and bereft of love.
Even the boy, so different a child,
was led astray by his diffident pride,
and couldn't quite take her strange paws and size,
until loving rubs made him scratch her ears.
Satiny soft- those tall Bastet-like ears-
made her nightly hunts endeavors unfair,
for Tina teased out sounds tiny in size-
even large rodents in the throes of love-
and dragged them writhing to the grateful pride,
who devoured them whole in front of the child.
Then something died deep inside that strange child,
as a slate of new sounds pricked up his ears.
He sought sensation and elusive pride-
baring it all yet becoming unfair.
Cool was he, and insensitive to love,
paying no heed to it's presence or size.
Yes, women- not felines- zero in size-
became the prize for this once awkward child,
who delighted himself in faking love
'til news of Tina at last touched his ears,
and life was again an affair unfair,
ruled by the cruel and their f***ed up pride.
So clutching her image, he faced the pride,
dreaming of justice, caliber and size,
and what he'd do to those humans unfair-
but now he was grown and not a small child,
and his soul soon mellowed as did his ears.
He'd bury poor Tina and try to love.
Dark days unfair would again test his pride,
but knowing of love would limit their size,
and the child moved on with enlightened ears.
poem by Taylor Rosewood
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