Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar Poems

A woman looks out for a man as best as she can
And is content with him without a wavering mind.
A man seeks as many women as he can reach
And ends as insatiable in spite of having them.
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He enjoys broadcasting her love for him.
She rejoices in confining it between them.
He leaves evidence; she hides it with prudence.
She likes fishing with her hand not wet.
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He so loved his wife in depth
That he couldn’t imagine her death
Or the spectre of its aftermath.
She died. He married another
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The dimple in her elbow,
More hollowed by her flesh
Bulging on her upper arms,
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I had made several leaps and
The fruit stayed too high to reach.
Had I aimed at those with in my reach
I would have got as many as my leaps.
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Don’t try to win her heart.
Instead, try to win her head.
Once she lost her head,
She slips down to your tread.
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Being a beloved is like being imprisoned,
When you’re a precious jewel
Or your mate is a possessive royal
You are an imprisoned gel.
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Eyes, mouth, nose, ears, navel, nipple, groin,
And buttocks are all the lineaments
Of a woman that revert men’s attention.
Why? All have inlets to let in your passion.
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He fell in love with her in her middle age.
Since her puberty, how many, with a vantage,
Would have disturbed, pursued,
Excited, aroused and embarrassed her
...