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Law and claw

Convicted of the crime that you committed,
You will absolve the guilt.
Convicted of the crime that you uncommitted,
You will curse the guilt.
Acquitted of the crime that you
uncommitted,
You will evict the guilt.
Acquitted of the crime that you committed,
You die of the guilt.

To escape from law
is to succumb to conscience’s claw.
29.12.2001, Palakkad

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Born to serve time

Consumed by time elapsed,
Masked and veiled the future but holds,
Uncertainty in every breath,
As predators loom large.

Sleight of hand, twist of fate,
Crippled, scarred or simply marred,
Does it really matter who falls prey?
To feel the pain.

Grateful to days elapsed for designs undone,
Prey to the future's prowl,
Born to serve time,
Till we succumb....

poem by Kiranjit Singh Bajaj
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Fame Feeds the Ego

Fame feeds the ego
and when the ego is fed
it makes the soul that you are
feel like it's dead.

All fame and glory
come with a price.
It seems warm for a while
but then turns to ice.

How not to succumb
is life's biggest test.
For the ego is strong
and never takes a rest/

Starve the ego.
Let its cravings leave
and the soul will awaken.
It will never dceive
nor ever need to be fed.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Reminiscing

i look back to the last day of last year
i leave you there
you are enough for me
the pain has lingered
but today
i am finally removing your picture
in my mind

i empty myself
i look forward to another image
that must make me live
and be so alive
for the coming days of this year

goodbye i had enough of the pain
i must succumb to an overwhelming gladness of
my own freedom

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Loyalists Get Crowns Or Thorns

Being loyal is like a child
Clinging fast to its mother's hand.
It is a survival instinct,
Which honesty cannot command.

One is loyal for a target.
Loyalty is task specific,
Time bound and space bound in approach.
In its place enters no mercy.

Being loyal undermines shame,
Defers logic, ignores justice
And works against one's conscience.
A loyalist might succeed or succumb.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Drink That Beer

In solitude
drown in emptiness
I languish in miseries
as life becomes meaningless

Pain sucks my soul
and enthuse self -pity
I reflect on the realities
found nothing but remorse

People come to console
yet they too have darkness
we all succumb to imperfections
as human beings we are vulnerable

At this hour
none is more helpful
but indulge consolation
so join me let's drink beer

poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Inside A Breathing Tomb...

time erred again
this time it buried one
still breathing down under
posing a counter challenge
the buried refused to succumb
it(?) grew and grew
deep down under
expanding the 6x3
to accommodate the
growing size
the marker time has
fixed atop its booty
too kept moving with the soil
that kept increasing its volume

for once
time, the vanquished
grave, the victor!

23sep2009

[...] Read more

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Meant To Live

Does it seem as obvious as it is,
That the ones unafraid to take risks...
Have faced challenges and experiences,
To mature from them and benefit.
And not succumb to doubts and fears presented.

While those living lives undecided,
Have become accustomed to hiding...
Behind a host of excuses and alibis to deny,
Life is given and meant to live.
And not to become seduced by re-adjusted limits.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Face Of The Sea

The sea has a face, my body,
As I remake the soul for glory.
Eyes closed, the water seeps in,
Nose shall succumb and body shall spend.
The scary waters around me inherit
The thinking hard creature I am.
This health is but a certainty,
Full of praise, full of work and hardship,
So that designing the heart is like grace.
Waters of high health are of the seas,
Their brine chases us from afar.

poem by Naveed Akram
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The Good Thief

We die each night,
to sleep succumb.
Perhaps to dream,
remembering none.
Yet as we wait for
sleep to come,
we believe
we'll see
the morning sun.
Ten thousand million
days saw dawn
before the day
when I was born.
Ten thousand million
nights might end
ere ever I see home again.
If Being sees
in me no worth
perhaps this is
the last of Earth.

[...] Read more

poem by John F. McCullagh
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