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A Flower To Auroville Mother-85

Adukku Malli (Arabian Jasmine, Butt mogra
Jasminum samba var, Grand Duke Of Tuscany)

I shall wait dear Malli
Till you're in blossom
In three decks creamy
Full and fragrant awesome

Solitary on strong cane
Supporting leaves bushy
Opens your fragrant plane
For tea and perfume dashy

So shall wait dear Malli
Till you're in blossom
In three decks creamy
Full and fragrant awesome

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Mothery Frothy

As frothy as I can remember
The beater went faster and faster
Creamy and creamier to the brink
Twas such a good chocolate drink.

Mother was such a good provider
She never failed to think ahead ever
Always wanting everyone to feel better
Her own dreams she fails to consider.

Every good deed is always remembered
Every soul nourished, every heart endeared
Like that chocolate drink that was so creamy
Mother's love will always be in my memory.

poem by Girlie Lactao
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So Creamy!

So creamy!
So nice,
So beautiful,
So lovely,
So attractive! !
peacefully,
Passionately,
Romantic;
In the land of your muse,
With the joy of your mind,
Like the butterfly!
With the harmony of the sky;
The wind,
The blues,
The land,
The atmosphere! !
Of your love,
Living,
Better with true love than hatred;
Sharing,

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poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Party time

I scooped out your eyes, lay them on my plate,
chewed on your flesh, it was creamy and sweet.
Slit your cheeks from side to side as I ate
and gouged out your nose while the music beat.
Black shadows loomed large and you laughed in fright
while I danced round the fire to your delight
you clapped and you chanted that evil night
but your faces looked pale in the bright moonlight.

Halloween is a scream, a laugh, a hoot
And pumpkins make delightful big lanterns
But the best of all if I tell the truth
is wonderful creamy thick pumpkin soup.

Then daddy danced too in his pointy hat
with his scary cloak and his belly fat.

poem by Ruth Walters
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Cuppacumalonga

'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, where go you to-day?'
I go to Cuppacumalomga, fifty miles away;
Over plains where Summer rains have sung a song of glee,
Over hills where laughing rills go seeking for the sea,
I go to Cuppacumalonga, to my brother Bill.
Then come along, ah, come along!
Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!

'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, how do you get there?'
For twenty miles I amble on upon my pony mare,
The walk awhile and talk awhile to country men I know,
Then up to ride a mile beside a team that travels slow,
And last to Cuppacumalonga, riding with a will.
Then come along, ah, come along!
Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!

'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, what do you do then?'
I camp beneath a kurrajong with three good cattle-men;

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A Farm Walk

The year stood at its equinox
And bluff the North was blowing,
A bleat of lambs came from the flocks,
Green hardy things were growing;
I met a maid with shining locks
Where milky kine were lowing.

She wore a kerchief on her neck,
Her bare arm showed its dimple,
Her apron spread without a speck,
Her air was frank and simple.

She milked into a wooden pail
And sang a country ditty,
An innocent fond lovers' tale,
That was not wise nor witty,
Pathetically rustical,
Too pointless for the city.

She kept in time without a beat

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poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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My Favourite Food

Here are some meals, which I really love to eat,
When, at the dinner table, I take my seat.

Lasagne served with a slice of garlic bread,
Is one of my real favourites, it has to be said.
Chunky chips and a tender gammon steak –
A really lovely meal for me, this would make.
Chilli con carne, served with pilau rice,
I also consider to be really rather nice.

A deep pan pizza, especially chicken supreme,
Is guaranteed to set my hungry eyes agleam.
Chicken of any kind, especially southern fried,
Is always a big hit with me, it can’t be denied.
Another of my favourites, is all-day brunch –
On this popular dish, I very often munch.

Britain’s favourite dish, bangers and mash,
I’m always extremely willing to give a bash.
Given lashings of sausage casserole,

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Place With No Name

“They tell me you are wicked and I believe them…”
— Carl Sandburg, “Chicago”

This is place with no name,
an imagined ideal, nostalgia
wearing bib overalls, chewing
grass stems, herding cattle,
shearing creamy black-faced
lambs. We carry buckets full
of myths and great expectations.

She hungers for the flavor of buffalo, longs for fresh bones, cougar tracks, wolf dens, the scorch of rapid flames escorting one season into the next, total exchange of life for life, of death for hope.
This is neither fairytale nor ancient pastoral, neither romanticism nor barefoot babes—It is Kinsella’s antipastoral in America.
It is coyotes and coydogs lurking behind walls of fiery thistle, luring pups through horseweeds to razor sharp traps with whimpers and pledges of friendship.

I have seen the earth swallow her own children.
I have seen the sun drink until there was nothing left for the land, until the sunflowers hung their heads in shame and wept dry black tears.

I hear nightly incantations of this place, it howls sober songs—I hear the hollow sounds of owls that warn, the cry of cold winds that begin and end every year—
The indifferent frogs chorus through lightening and spring snow—they think only of their children.

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poem by Jane L. Carman
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Hindi

pure, melodious
creamy on tongue sweet in ears
my Hindi language

poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Let's face it, a nice creamy chocolate cake does a lot for a lot of people; it does for me.

quote by Audrey Hepburn
Added by Lucian Velea
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