Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar Poems

A woman judges
How you would handle her body
By how you handle the steering
While you drive with her.
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Pity is a kind of love
That you must experience;
Doing so, you cleanse your soul.
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My hands are uneven;
The one that seeks is long
And the other that lends is short.
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You are the second one
Whom I love by my heart
Without seeing your face,
The God being the first one.
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A child imitates its mother with air.
An adult imitates models to seem fair.
A child imagines a child in a doll
And enjoys tending it with fantasy.
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A woman of passion married a king,
Who, a widower, fell for her beauty.
Consumed by passion, madness in heart,
She could not but love his son, so robust,
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Romance is a chase. Both will stop doing
Once the pursued one is in the pocket.
Man skips romance soon after marriage.
Wife minds it not, getting proprietorial role.
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Rabindranath Tagore was born
With a silver spoon in the mouth.
He got connections and the Nobel Prize.
Subramini Bharathi was born
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Animals strike men when disturbed.
Men strike animals before disturbed.
Animals kill for food; men for sports too.
Among animals there is no criminal.
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Easy to borrow, that too to maxim,
Easy to write, that too so fast,
Easy to get at will a wealth of materials,
You and I can write volumes about things.
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