Quotes about paddy, page 15
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,
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Endless Walk
walking cold to the bone in the rain
wind cuts like a knife in my skin
water drips off my face i look around to see
it's just me walking in the rain, my mind is full of clouds
i start to wonder why does it rain, why am i walking, how long has it been raining, how long have i been walking...
i look at my wrist to see there's no watch
i reach for my pocket to feel there's no pocket
except strings of fibers, fibers are all thats left
from what used to be clothing
my skin looks pale and is full of scars
i fall down on my knees it terrifies me to see the reflection in the puddle of water this is not the face i remember as my own
i stand up only to realise the street is not there
it's just a dark floor
i look around there's a wall on both sides
i look up to scream there's no sound only water that fills my eyes
before i can make sense of it my body starts to move
i'm walking again, where am i going, why can't i stop
poem by Paddy Jansen
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Heavenly Mahanadee Vavroovahana Patra
She is the mother of Plants, animals and all creatures;
Providing cool water contents their desires.
Man produces electricity from water;
Creatures live peacefully deriving the love of Creator.
Through canals she provides water for cultivation;
Peasants smile with delight, enjoy the beauty of creation.
Producing paddy and vegetables live peacefully;
The family smile with prosperity, gaily.
The river is an Abode of Crematoriums;
People of all castes, creeds, colours burnt in the river bed of creation.
Flowers smile on the bank of river;
It contents all poets’ desire.
Shrines of Deities smile on both sides of rivers
The shrine attracts the devotees, contents their desire.
The river is a Paradise of Peace;
All people derive Deities’ Bliss.
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poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Gifts should be kept safely...
Someone in the family got a puppy as a gift,
For the celebration of the father's day, the best,
It was entrusted with me for its upkeep,
Though upset, remembered the fable,
Once grandfather told, when young,
Walked on the sand that was new,
feeling of running river water, tickle,
Looked at the sky that was fresh and blue,
Trekking in the forest for the waterfalls,
Listening to the singing birds and insects,
Running after butterflies with laughter,
Swimming in the sea before sunset,
Loitering aimlessly in the paddy fields
Scared of coconuts that were dropped,
Bouquet of flowers that we smelled,
Everything was new, when we have, at first,
Everything Mother Nature has, is new to a child,
Such gift of nature was given as a present,
To our generation to enjoy and upkeep,
Take care of the gift to pass on to,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Girl of Wilderness
The girl I met on the bushy land, heaped
Beyond paddy fields, was peeping
For birds, their nests, eggs and babies
An endeavor to help birds to survive.
She glanced at me with her sapphire eyes pair
I saw oddity in the point of her look.
My gun loaded to kill a prey to eat
Glad as she could help a tiny bird to live
Desprate was I, could not catch one to gulp
Innocence was her mark,
Traded me at heart
My solitude catught her fragrance
I left my gun
Begged her feel
I loneged her scent, delicate and versatile
I invite her in my wild dreams
Her lofty haughty breasts
The butter cone of temptation and
The wild burries hot and sweet on it
The belly which pated my liking
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poem by Sam Varghis
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Alison here Autumn's going to start and tell others
Thanks for your kind words
Also Jerry's warmest regards,
My wife too sends her hugs to you all,
Here Autumn is going to start soon and they call fall,
Yellow foliage in jaundiced color.
My wife grumbles that her piggy till's level goes down
As I steal pennies like a magician for my Cuban cigar.
When I was drunk I stammered, 'Darling if we have a Son,
We could have form a musical group named 'The three stooges meet Herculeas.'
I always see your precious garden through your poem paintings,
Does the bard Paddy Martin resides near by?
He too a very nice character found in poetfreak,
So life goes as usual Sun rises and Sets according to the Master's instructions,
Homeless they sleep on the roads here and dream heaven on and off it seems?
Wish that tricky life smile at all with yours,
I buy lotteries and if luck pinches by a mistake
Definitely We jump over the Great Barrier reef
And see you all without an invitation!
Take care and good luck!
Let's smile together until the hardest breath crawls,
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poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Music Concert at the Suruli Hills!
‘ p..e..n..n..y..c..u..i..c..k',
sing the cuckoos from the trees
and the mellow music swells,
the Suruli dell and paddy fields.
The falls from the nearby knolls
chimes: 'p..e..n..n..y..c..u..i..c..k',
and dribbles over the breeze to cool
and makes it whistles the tune of
‘p..e..n..n..y..c..u..i..c..k'.
The rills through which water flows
down the hills from the Dam,
fills the dales with red soil
and tells the Tamils who till the lands
to recall their Lord Col. Pennycuick
who sold his own estates in Eng-lish land
and buil tthe strong Mullai Periyar Dam
across the western ghats
to slake the thirst of the Tamils
and their land where the minstrels are born.
The thankful ancient race
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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38th Parallel
Once I lived in a village not far
from the thirty-eighth parallel
near Kaesong, in fact
The snow that February fell for days
blowing horizontally to the ground
hills and paddy fields filling with drifts
We lived, ten of us, in a hut
that smelled of kimchee and garlic
we huddled together on the warm floor
The sergeant in charge was from Chicago
a big-mouthed Irish guy from the South Side
he talked constantly about his gang back home
The North Koreans who ran the prison camp
grew to dislike the sergeant and our guys
we ate less and worked harder than the others
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poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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The Mercurial Nepalese!
The ravishing views of hills,
vales and falls and the luxuriant paddy fields,
the rushing down of streams,
the rivers vending their long course
chanting hymns of praise
of the realm of Himalayas,
filled my mind and heart
and lulled me into a nap.
When the Sun was peeping out
we fell into the web of touts
at Peerganj near Indias’ border.
When the hills hid into dark,
we reached our dreamy Kathmandu.
The leal Nepalese toil and moil
on a soil atop the earth.
They chain the rubble to fence the road
and drive the vehicles with unknown ease.
They dote on the poor Tibetans
and treat the aliens as of their kin.
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Policeman G.
To Policeman G. the Inspector said:
"When you pass the 'shops' you must turn your head;
If you took a wager, that would be a sin;
So you'll earn no stripes if you run them in."
Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah,
Fol-de-diddle-doh!
To the House Committee, the Inspector said:
"'Tis a terrible thing how the gamblers spread,
For they bet on the steeple, and they bet on the Cup,
And the magistrates won't lock them up."
Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah,
Fol-de-diddle-doh!
But Policeman G., as he walks his beat,
Where ghe gamblers are -- up and down the street --
Says he: "What's the use to be talkin' rot --
If they'd make me a sergeant, I could cop the lot!"
With my ring-tiy-ah,
Fol-de-diddle-doh!
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poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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