World War Veteran.
he limped from chair
To chair, walked along
With the help of a stick,
Sat on the steps
Of the memorial,
recollecting his years of war,
Hunger, pet infested farms,
His lady love of war days,
Their short stay together,
The joy they shared,
The mud which he crossed,
How his stockings took
away his skin after month's
Of wearing, the death
Of his fellow soldiers,
Burst of shells, heavy bombings,
Search for water,
Trip through forests on day's end,
The joyous arrival of news
Spontaneously of winning
The war, his return from war
With one leg less
To his dear wife an daughter,
the passing of years
In peace, leaving his wife dead
His lonely life with dreary dreams
Of his war days to waken up
To a morning of peaceful sky
Looking at him through the window.
Ravikiran arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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Tiger, My Expired Dog.
Tiger, tiger, I mourn thy death,
even after forty years hence,
You were my friend and lover,
Keeping out thieves, animals
Out of our farmhouse, all the time,
Till you left me, since another
One was added to be your friend,
Which you could not bear,
Due to jealousy, since the love
You feared will be shared,
And you took to the streets,
Leaving us alone, making
Us hate, the other one Brownie,
We waited for you day and night,
To your return, which you never did,
And was run over by a truck.
We think of you how you saved
Me from a cobra's bite, by your
Timely attack from behind
And visit your place of rest
Where we buried you forever.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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Girl On A Motorbike.........
She rode a powerful
Motorbike, crossed
Two countries in europe
Inside one hour,
Parked the bike
Near a public garden,
Walked to the bench,
To be hugged
By a forty year old,
Her lover and professor,
Laid on the bench
At seven in the morning,
Made mad love with him,
Stood up, buckled her
Windcheater and rode
Away back to her college
Which she did for four years
Almost every day
Till she did her graduation.
Ravikran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Body.
It lay still in the box,
Ready to be transferred,
To be burnt as percustom,
Lifeless, it was,
But full of life
a few hours ago,
People adniring
The dead man's life,
Never done while alive,
He had a life of great
Expextations, his family
Mournig the grief
Of his departure,
especially, his wife, children
Who depended
On him for alivelihood,
His colleagues showing
Some grief, but not
Very true, since they
Imagined that it was
Not they in his place,
Holding on to life,
Which they din't know
What really to do with it,
The dead body's soul
May be happy,
Since it has finished
It's troublesome sojourn.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Second World War Soldier's Return
A short brown soldier
Fought the world war
In the Burman land,
For four years,
With his skin tearing away,
On bieng removed,
Drinking rum,
Ducking bullets,
Sharpnel from crumbling
Buildings and glass windows,
He was shot and removed
To the heap of dead,
The family getting
The news, did last rites
For him, the war ending,
His parent's mounning
Their dear son's death,
Still part of lasr rites
Conducting saw
The apparition of their son,
On the doorway,
They howled in horror
When their son
Told them he has returned
Crawling fron dead's heap
And reached home
To the amazement
Of the villagers talking
Of the second birth of the soldier.
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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Waiting....
Iwas always waitng,
waiting for dinner to be served
waiting for my daughter to out,
Waiting for the servicing of the car,
waiting for the bus to come,
Waiting for the train to arrive,
waitng for the night sleep,
Waiting for the calls on phone,
Waiting the credit card to be mailed,
Waiting for the ration card,
waiting for renewal of driving licence,
Waiting the daughter to come,
Waiting for good word from the boss,
Waiting in Q for the ATM,
Waiting for the email response,
Waiting for the promotions,
Waiting for daughter's results
Waiting for a praise from my wife,
Waiting for the friends to gather,
Waitnig for a fove star meal,
waitnig for a look from a dame,
Waiting for the loves not reaching,
And waiting for the death at last.
Ravikiran Arakkal.
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Was Born About Ten Thousand Years Ago
(adapted by elvis presley)
I saw old pharaohs daughter bring moses from the water
Ill lick the guy that says it isnt so
I was born about ten thousand years ago
There aint nothing in this world that I dont know
I saved king davids life and he offered me a wife
I said now youre talking business have a chair
Yeah, I was born about ten thousand years ago
Aint nothing in this world that I dont know
Saw peter, paul and moses playing ring around the roses
Ill lick the guy that says it isnt so
I was born about ten thousand years ago
Aint nothing in this world that I dont know
I saw old pharaohs daughter bring moses from the water
Ill lick the guy that says it isnt so
I was there when old noah built the ark
And I crawled in the window after dark
I saw jonah eat the whale and dance with the lions tale
And I crossed over canaan on a log
I was born about ten thousand years ago
Aint nothing in this world that I dont know
I saw old pharaohs daughter bring moses from the water
Ill lick the guy that says it isnt so
Yeah, I was born about ten thousand years ago
Aint nothing in this world that I dont know
Saw peter, paul and moses playing ring around the roses
Ill lick the guy that says it isnt so
I was there when old noah built the ark
And I crawled in the window after dark
I saw jonah eat the whale and dance with the lions tale
And I crossed over canaan on a log
I was born about ten thousand years ago
There aint nothing in this world that I dont know
I saved king davids life and he offered me a wife
I said now youre talking business have a chair
Yeah, I was born about ten thousand years ago
Aint nothing in this world that I dont know
Saw peter, paul and moses playing ring around the roses
Ill lick the guy that says it isnt so
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Not Sorry No She Said
I am not sorry no she said
That my ex son in law is dead
He gave to my daughter a hard life
And she to him was a good wife.
It may seem a callous thing of me to say
That I'm not sorry he's out of the way
For without him my daughter will survive
And in fact I'd like to think she'll thrive.
And though I feel her years with him were wasted years
My daughter sheds her grief in tears
To him she was a good wife and a good friend
And she stayed with him right to the end.
Whatever in him did she see
I find it way far beyond me
For to understand the workings of humanity
For they were different as can be.
She said as for myself I've been lucky in life
Lucky to be a good man's wife
But our daughter good of heart and kind
In love and marriage happiness failed to find.
Her feelings she is not afraid to own
When she said the rudest man that I've ever known
And I am not sorry no she said
That my ex son in law is dead.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Does It Go ? (couplet)
It goes like always, with little changes, life is ever going forward,
Trundling over years and incidents with the same experiences again and again.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rickety Chair
On a chair ricketier than himself
He is awake in his slumber
Slumber that comes when days are long
Yet numbered…..
In the relished stupor
The lost years show up as dreams
The remnants announcing
That he’s still alive!
He’s though never sure
He was ever part of them
They must be his imagination,
A myth or a tale he loves to believe.
The wrinkles mock the idea
That there was once a smoothness
The dimming world around his chair
Taunts to say the sparkle was a deceit
Did youth really ever embrace him?
It came to fleet away in a moment
Leaving him on the rickety chair to lament!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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French Teacher
Being in Paris for over
Thirty years, he taught
French to younsters
At sixty five, reminscing
The Eiffel tower, the squares
Of Paris, the promenades
The painters, especially
The beuties, with a smack
Of his old lips, mentioning
Them quite often,
But not mentioning
The life of love he led,
He lived ina old fort like house
Looking after his
Wife and shy daughter,
With thought of france
Where he lived so long,
For company of his oldage.
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Price Of Dead Love
His marriage is over but he has no tears
For the woman he was married to for just over two years
Though he miss his baby daughter when he comes home from work at night
In his marriage she was his one source of delight.
She is with his ex wife her mother who lives with her new man
And for him in her life his ex has only one plan
That he pay his alimony to her on Friday of every week
They no longer have common ground on which to speak.
On their wedding day he thought 'twould be for life
He was so in love with his beautiful wife
But just after two years of marriage love between them is dead
That the ways of love can be fickle no truer words said.
That his ex wife has left him for another he finds that as okay
But he misses his baby daughter when he comes home from work every day
That life has it's ups and downs it's always been this way
And the price of dead love it can be high to pay.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is It Over? (couplet)
Is it over, my dear, the love we have kept so long,
Which we cherished with such savour that all were jealous.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Old Days
Oh some times I think back to when I was younger
Life was so much simpler then
Dad would be up at dawn
Hed be watering the lawn
Or maybe going fishing again
Oh and mom would be fixing up something in the kitchen
Fresh biscuits or hot apple pie
And Id spend all day long in the basement
Torturing rats with a hack-saw
And pulling the wings off of flies
Those were the good old days
Those were the good old days
The years go by but the memory stays
And those were the good old days
I can still remember good old mr. fender
Who ran the corner grocery store
Oh, hed strolled down the aisle with a big friendly smile
And hed say howdy when you walked in the door
Always treated me nice, gave me kindly advice
I dont know why I set fire to his place
Oh Ill never forget the day I bashed in his head
Well you shouldve seen the look on his face
Let me tell ya now
Those were the good old days
Those were the good old days
The years go by but the memory stays
And those were the good old days
Do you remember sweet michelle
She was my high school romance
She was fun to talk to and nice to smell
So I took her to the homecoming dance
Then I tied her to a chair and I shaved off all her hair
And I left her in the desert all alone
Well sometimes in my dreams
I can still hear the screams
Oh I wonder if she ever made it home
I tell ya
Those were the good old days
Those were the good old days
The years go by but the memory stays
And those were the good old days
Let me tell ya buddy
Those were the good old days
Those were the good old days
The years go by but the memory stays
And those were the good old days
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mundane.
Time seems to be seemlees,
Passing away second by second,
Harly any thing good or great
To be done, life looks mundane,
A copy slightly different
From one another,
with a tang of anger,
Love or hatred here and there,
Making it more difficult
To pass, but with a defenite goal
Of getting older, but not wiser,
Everyone looking like anyone else,
With news items giving slight thrills,
Or interest of a murder,
A rape, a theft, a crime,
Few good or brave acts to be read,
will the time change
Bringing exciting actions,
If nor by the hour, but once in a day?
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Old Man....
that old man who lives down the street,
who just shared a can of Alpo with his blind dog.
who owned the corner grocery when i was a kid,
who helped me out when i was short.
whose father passed it down to him,
whose son was killed in a car wreck.
whose daughter lives somewhere in California,
whose wife died ten years ago.
who was a deacon in the church for years,
who quit going when his wife died.
who put his life savings with 'trusted investors',
who lost it all when everything fell.
who the county's hounding for back taxes,
whose porch is falling down.
who prays that if there is a god...
he'll die and take the dog with him!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A chair meant to share.
In that mischievous room,
stand a chair meant to share.
Who 's would have said?
My endless days, on her soft contact,
pleasant the skin of mine
I recognized her from a dream that I had.
That girl at my dream door steps.
She looks at me, and says let's share.
Then I wake up next to her
Time pass since forever.
Two different persons, destiny coupled.
She drank me; with her strong soul, she makes me whole,
in my mind, in my heart.
And now we have a child, compensation that fills,
our love and makes it strong.
Mildness of caress, whispering in my heart.
' She is your lover; she is your friend,
' She is my wife; she is my whole life'
'To my wife'
poem by Luca Menin
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Endless offing..
Leaving the newly married wife at home,
going for the green pasture all alone,
after a month he hears the pregnancy,
happy at heart, but no urgency,
return home to share the joy,
birth of the child arrives,
through the cell and internet,
happy father still at work,
shares the news with his friends,
connect with home every night,
to see the baby and the wife.
She looks like a moon, far away,
lonely man drools away.
lonely woman has lost the luster,
lonely nights have made her a pitcher,
dried tears hardened the pillow,
burden in the mind so sorrow,
Time flies and the baby is five,
return home to be alive,
as a man and a wife on the bed,
an over worked man and
an over stressed out woman,
made the next baby in a day.
As the man has to provide,
and the woman has to protect,
millions live life in pretext.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Home
Favourite chair by the fire,
daily paper in your hand.
Children’s voices from the hall.
Cat curled up on your lap.
Wife in the kitchen cooking tea.
Home, the place you always want to be.
Eye lids are heavy,
after a long days work.
Relaxation is only a substitute for sleep.
The wistful words of your wife,
penetrate your drowsy mind.
Home is where the heart is,
a place of peace of mind.
poem by David Harris
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Return My Passion (couplet)
Return my passion, like not the fashion
Don't change or give it to someone else since I am waiting.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Is A Circle.
It isa circle, from birth
To death ending up in cries,
Of arrival and departure,
The soul may even go round
In cirle frm deat to birth
In another for the cycle
to continue as believed
In the eadt as per
Our deeds entering
The cycle like animnals,
Birds, other beings,
Keeping the soul in tact,
So we must be careful
As per the myth to do
Good deeds only,
To rebirth again as humans,
Though to be battered
By our own emotions,
And suffer through human life cycle.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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