Poems on Love by Tagore

Love adorns itself;

it seeks to prove inward joy by outward beauty.

~

Love does not claim possession,

but gives freedom.

~

Love is an endless mystery,

for it has nothing else to explain it.

~

Love's gift cannot be given,

it waits to be accepted.

AMCHI MUMBAI ( POEM )

A City where everything is possible,

especially the impossible.


Where lovers first love and then marry,

Where there is place for every Tom, Dick and Harry


Where telephone bills make a person ill,

Where a person cannot sleep without a pill.


Where carbon-dioxide is more than oxygen,

Where the road is considered to be a dustbin,


Where college canteens are full and classes empty,

Where Adam teasing is also making an entry,


Where a cycle reaches faster than a car,

Where everyone thinks himself to be a star,


Where sky scrapers overlook the slum,

Where houses collapse as the monsoon comes,


Where people first act and then think,

Where there is more water in the pen than ink,


Where the roads see-saw in monsoon,

Where the beggars become rich soon,


Where the roads are levelled

when the minister arrives,


Where college admission means hard cash,

Where cement is frequently mixed with ash.


This is Mumbai my dear, But don't fear,

just cheer, come to Mumbai every year!


AUTHOR
ANONYMOUS

.
Let’s spend as many moments as we can every day being grateful for all the good that’s in our lives. If you have little in your life now, it will increase. If you have an abundant life now, it will increase. This is a win-win situation. You’re happy, and the Universe is happy. Gratitude increases your abundance in all areas of your life. Let’s make this a world of grateful, thankful giving and receiving for everyone!

marriage of two
    A marriage of two
is for love that is true

A marriage of two
is always something new

A marriage of two
happens sometimes out of the blue

A marriage of two
is worth it when its due

A marriage of two
is a marriage of trust
Many can find themselves lost
It can be an expensive cost

They are only very few
who have a clue
of when love accrues

A marriage of two
is about love making
It is not about
money raking

A marriage of two
can be bad
A marriage of two
can be sad
You should only be glad if
A marriage of two
is for love that is true

Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi

Work! Work! And Reap!
    Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!

Everyday most of we work
Some of us love to work
Some of us just want to rock
Some of us want to lie on a beach or take a walk
If we had our way, we could spend all day and talk

But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
We may then have to readjust
To unacceptable standards of living in disgust

Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!

We all have different professions
Some of us have silent confessions
We fancy someone at work with an obsession
Work is then fun with a passion until confusion

Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!

There are jobs that are monotonous
The atmosphere is negatively outrageous
Nothing in the air signifies hilarious
Every single person is always very serious

Sometimes played at work
Is the kind of politics
That makes one quite sick
This is where the strong kick
Kick hardest the backside of the weak

But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
As we find ourselves lost
And then try hard to readjust

So do we swallow?
Or is fighting back shallow
Will it leave in your pocket a dent that is hollow?
Or produce a scene labeled horror
Enough to leave you in tears of sorrow

I don't have all the answers
I know work is a living cancer
People at work ought to be a little nicer
Everyone needs to make a living including a dancer!

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

The Ration Offices in the city suck big time & need to revamped immediately.
The officers are never on time, rude, and take a bribe to get work done.
They only communicate in Marathi, dont look at you, if you speak English, which makes matters worse.
There's no eye to eye contact even by the head of the Ration Card office forget anything else.
Ive gone through a great ordeal in getting my name added on my in laws ration card for the past 6 months, though I've the slip, I've danced there almost thousand times.
Ration offices should be banned in India, for the middle class, anyway we dont buy anything from there.
The card only has to be maintained as an identity card.
Wish it were removed and only a passport be maintained for the same.
Really these offices are a disgrace, on careful observation, the offices are in a shabby state, and their files are in a mess.
Hope the government closes these ration offices as soon as possible, since I guess, they do not provide even the basic services & are not polite to the customers.
Maybe some customer service etiquettes can be taught to these people.
Really a disgrace to the nation !!

wish life were a holiday
i feel as though i have my own space when am travelling.
lost in the beauty of nature which God has created for us, as mentioned in the below poem by LLWYD, IWAN :-

" Borders are as many scars, in places still sensitive to the touch, likely to erupt unexpectedly, over which one is never too keen to linger. "

It's easy,
   the planned smoothness--
   from car to train
   to waiting plane:

   go with the flow,
   the tide of faces,
   humanity in all its forms
   with eyes on the horizon:

   we won't touch down,
   won't descend
   until the sun rises
   with the horizon a campaign of colours,

   where the angels have painted the sky:
   and night follows us,
   night's shadow follows us,
   night's colours follow us

   westwards:
   and up here there are no borders
   or citizenship,
   just the creaseless sky

   above the clouds:
   we can negotiate a truce here,
   share a covenant,
   be free to bargain for peace,

   but yet,
   as we descend,
   the dawn behind us stealing shadows,
   do we dare
   to smuggle the dangerous virus of our language
   from space,
   and through the security gate
   undiscovered?

   out there,
   beyond the electronic doors,
   borders and accents and territory
   are ready to explode in our ears:

   we wait awhile,
   here in no man's land,
   under the airport's synthetic light
   where the loneliness is deafening.