Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar Poems

A perfectionist is a waste of time.
He will not commend unless he amends
What others did, to his satisfaction.
Applause and not purpose weigh his action
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The hell is not a hell,
As held by outsiders,
To those whose home it is.
The heaven is not a heaven
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Let a pair spins around the axis of
commitment,
Be grass to bend with winds, and defy
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A thought is not original,
Being a seed got from somewhere.
An organism is not new,
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Adequacy of contacts brings one
To love a tune or a queen.
Redundancy of contacts sends one
Well 3to abandon them soon.
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A man’s nest is woman’s heart.
He seeks it in her, who had his.
Denied, he drifts to hire others’
Shown the door, he wanders.
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My son is not an Einstein,
Nor a Lincoln, nor a Martin.
He is mine, worthier to me
Than they are to the world.
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I need no kind of any love,
Let alone praises or respects.
I need no kind of any sway,
Let alone power and influence.
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Bowlers are poor batsmen, why?
They strengthened their skill to deliver
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I lost my dear wife at a tender age.
I collected addresses for funeral.
I conducted the cremation
I went to my village to be called on.
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