Monthly Archives: April 2016

Bhima… A lone warrior

a poem by

The mightiest among the Pandavas,
Yet scornfully called ‘Blockhead’ by kith, kin and enemies alike
The one whose moments of triumph were snatched away
Unrecognized, unrewarded…
His mother saw glory
In Arjuna’s skills, in Yudhishtira’s wisdom,
Yet, nicknamed him a ‘Vrikodara’
The one who possessed archery skills that beat his brother,
Yet, was given a mere mace and spear for combat…
The one who journeyed miles for months
to get his beloved a flower she craved,
Yet, she had eyes only for another…
The large hearted man who sacrificed his eldest son for ‘the greater good’,
But never once failed to disguise his bitter and forlorn feelings
The one who ultimately killed
The evilest and the darkest force of the Kauravas,
bringing the ‘Great War’ to an end…
Oh Bhimasena!
The second son,
Always second in line,
You remain the greatest warrior of all times…

(inpired by MT Vasydevan Nair’s Randaamoozham)

On Canvas

a poem by

On black canvas
larger and deeper
than its geometric measure
she lights the stars
one by one
paths of light and dark
cross in much more
than time and space

On the lighted canvas
she joins broken pieces
of horizon
to shut the reckless sun
from inflicting more wounds
on earth’s flesh

On canvas
in her journey
of self-discovery
through absent colours of love
she splashes darkness with
multi-dimensional hues
dark now emerges
as a source of light
she embarks upon her journey
towards the absolute
seeking Moksha
seeking redemption.

My Men

a poem by

Living in a foreign land of aliens,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.

Men who are silenced by sunrises,
who make noises at car races.
Men who teach their children bicycle,
who make love like angel Michael,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.

Living in a foreign land of aliens,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.

Men who shed a tear for their neighbors,
injustice who fight with their labors.
Men who earn a living with justice,
who give up their lives with bliss,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.

Living in a foreign land of aliens,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.

Men who live with love in my heart,
who with patience wait for the Lord.
Men who wash their souls all the day,
who go to churches in order to pray,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.

Living in a foreign land of aliens,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.

The bridge to heaven

a poem by

They walk on me with thumping shoes,
as if they were uncaring brutes.
But I am sure in my heart;
they’re sad for their blows smart.
Bitter indeed are the cruel nails,
on my flesh with wounds that ail.
Reminding me of crucifixion;
repeatedly I suffer affliction.
Let’s take the pains of today,
in hope of the Lord’s day.
He surely will exact revenge:
for the devil’s innumerable offense.
The stripes of so many years,
is naught before eternal cheers.
The cool wind from far off heaven,
invites us into arms pleasant.
So walk on me O my dears:
but mourning, for my many tears.

The letters you wrote to me once

a poem by

Cobblestone pavements
Naughty Kites that once flew into the horizons
The faint aroma of a robusta, rightly brewed
The smell of Jasmines buds, recently sprinkled
The big temple bells’ chime
An old Morris minor, polished chrome gleaming
My English teacher’s lipstick
Grandma reciting grand tales from the Mahabharata
A long competing hooting bout with a Cuckoo
A short rare one with a crow pheasant.
Thoma on his ancient cycle, selling fish
Eliamma’s six felines courting Thoma all the time.
Green from the paddy fields of yore
Red from the fiery musandas
Yellow from the April showers
White from my grandmas starched mundu
Love from your letters
Reached out and colored
All of my remembered universe
Until I safely stored them
For another lifetime.

Come away
The cities have invaded our kind countrysides
Grandma is no more
And the kids of today
Don’t bother with real kites.
We will meet again
And rebuild our little lives
One cobblestone at a time
A path, a pavement, a crossroad at a time.

On a cool cool night

a poem by

On a cool cool night,
riding my motorbike,
I feel all right,
like a bird light light.

With wind in my hair,
and zeal in my soul,
I glide on the road,
like a graceful foal.

With God in my heart,
and eyes on the prize,
I travel in the night
to the realm of light.

How bad could be life,
I have suffered all plight.
In the darkest time
shall the sun rise rise.

With God on my side,
I will win this fight.
I will cry no more,
I will fly high high.

On a cool cool night,
riding my motorbike,
I feel all right,
like a bird light light.

When I found them

a poem by

I was an introvert, as I always was
But some things changed the law
Now when I am introduced to the world
And is not reduced to only my self
I realize that
It was me who was mad
Thought that it is only my self
But with these introductions help
Have found the world is great
Just I am late
To understand what world is

Call of the Mountains

a poem by

Thou majestic mountains who stand up so high
Who romance the clouds up in the sky
The setting of pine trees adds to your beauty
The spread of snow makes one fall for you madly

Your charm forces one never to go back
Your beauty lures one always to your track
The aura around you soothes the restless minds
It makes even a ruthless soul noble and kind

Femme Fatale

a poem by

The first time I saw her
The crowd had parted like the red sea

Her hair glinted like molten rubies
Those beautiful red lips stretched in a predatory smile
The blue eyes were light as a sunny sky
And the moment they met mine
My heart stopped.
I smiled

Every day, I came and sat
In the very same bench where I first laid my eyes on her
Every day, she would come looking impossibly beautiful and unattainable
Talking to a different man every day, the eyes glinting and smile teasing
Every day, her eyes would meet mine. She never smiled.

Months passed; spring turning autumn and then the snow
with wintry wind greeting me like an old lover
Her eyes had met mine
And they were, so- so cold.
The men she talked to were never seen again.

I closed my eyes

Her wrist was thin and delicate, not a single mark
Her smile was hollow, as she sat beside me
“How do you do?” she asked, as if we were old friends
I smiled and shook my head, my response already forgotten
So lost was I, in that beauty- a selfish blindness had overtook me

For a long time, we just talked
Breathy words and light whispers
Meaningless words and tired sighs
Secret smiles and coy glances
What more could I have possibly asked for?

One day, she simply lent forward
Her lips like red satin against mine
“I am so tired” she whispered brokenly in my arms
I swallowed and tenderly touched the fading scars on her back

“Do you love me?”
“Yes”
Her smile had felt like the first sunrise

His name was forgotten, all I saw was her arms around him
She looked at me as if I was the stranger, and yet she smiled
I averted my eyes
The next day, his dead body was found beside the river
With no marks other than a sliced back

I closed my eyes

That night, she slept peacefully in my arms

Every day, a new man was in her arms
Every night, I held her trembling body, and prayed for mercy through the haze
Every day, the angels left with another soul
Every night, I knelt in front of the alter

The last night, I returned with a few prayers still fresh on my lips

Her red hair still glinted like river of blood
The smile sharp and happy
I walked and looked around me
The shadow she left behind

The windows were shattered
Furniture overturned,
The victim’s empty sockets gaped at me
Perhaps, still surprised by his death?

The moonlight shined and brightened her
Her looks of death angel
One hand held the knife, the other beckoned me
“I have been waiting, my love”

They never saw it coming
So lost in her beauty and smile
The love which was poison and sweet
The prettier side of death

I held her hand and looked around
Knowing I was to follow
“Do you love me?” “Why, yes”
I never saw the knife coming, just her smile
I closed my eyes.

My heart is broken

a poem by

My heart is broken into a million pieces,
I don’t care for sun and beaches.
In garden scourged by Lord’s curses,
Who looks to find ruddy roses?

My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.

Take away your paradise,
I find in it no delight.
Give it to someone better,
why throw it on a loosened kite?

My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.

You savor your precious nectar,
while I spill dew of my eyes.
You go mingle with the happy crowd,
while I drown in my sighs.

My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.

You go build your Eden Garden
on a new blessed ground.
Why rebuild the fallen ruins
where curses have made a mound?

My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.

You go find a better haven
to lay in your sweet desires.
Why burn them in the name of friendship
on my heart’s wretched pyre?

My heart is broken into a million pieces,
I don’t care for sun and beaches.
In garden scourged by Lord’s curses,
who looks to find ruddy roses?

My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.

A Village

a poem by

In the lap of nature,
Stands a village,
Glorious and grand,
Immortalizing nature,
Encompassing beauty.

The rays of life,
Scatter themselves through the leaves
Encrusting the village with gold,
Scattering the body
Into the four elements.

The lake grand and glittering,
Reflects life
Opening the mask of humans.
Wearing the necklace of lotus
And earrings of The banyan
It sustains life.

The first rays ring the bells of the temple
Releasing each from the bond.

The farmer comes out
Bidding farewell to his family,
To reach the field
Where humanity would progress.

All season he works
For humans to survive
But has little to survive.

One family of hundred live in that village
Centuries old they are,
Making love immortal,
They will take birth, live and die there
Till the end of the earth.

The village witnesses
Love, care and compassion
A heaven on earth it is,
The night stars twinkle as if smiling
For God sits and looks down at their own garden.

In Memory of a Father

a poem by

As days, months and years have passed by me, all through the way
Twenty five long years flew away today, it is time for me to go by the past lane
To remember my daddy as a emotional release of the past evergreen in my heart
Who had a battle in the end days of his life with much pain
Never to come back again but just to loose it with ease
Daddy you had a life of a hero and you were the best
Years don’t make it easy, it makes all the more harder
Just to make me cry in the nights remembering you
I hope I have made you proud, though there might have been some fall outs in my life
Always wishing to hold your hands and scream out and call upon you
And show you how proud I have made you all these twenty five years that passed by.

Introspection

a poem by

It makes you feel apologetic
It makes you feel great
With memories most vivid
And thoughts most innate
Judgmental and biased, Critical or bizarre
May hit you bad leaving wounded and scarred
May gravely effect temperament
When we spare time to introspect

We explore ourselves, know us better
The nasty brain is always their to deter
Flaws look enormous, Qualities seldom prevail
Truth leaves you shaken good enough to derail
May look like one man of misery or an angel of grace
Emotions and sentiments occupy the space
Relies on the past, torments the present
When we spare time to introspect

Callous or serious, carefree or sensible
Your deeds bog you down, fissures and voids become visible
Makes your head spin, can even make you grin
No one to attack, no one to rescue, no enemy, no kin
Can make you calm, May make you lose your cool
Flamboyance subsides, regret rules the roost
Tryst with your conscience, actions on the stake
Our unrealized dreams, our guilt keep us awake
Makes us repent, makes us lament
When we spare time to introspect

It’s never too late yet it’s never prescribed
Aftermath of it, can hardly be described
Clashes keep echoing, turbulence perturbs
Radical upheaval and commotion disturbs
It may cause decline, may decimate,
It may instigate, it may sedate
It may revive or resurrect
When we spare time to Introspect.

My home, My cage!

a poem by

In my home, my cage
The Door is ajar,
But I remain closed
Suffused with rage.
The light shines through
Pings me in the eye
Oh! Had I dozed?
Maybe, but not long before
Comforted perhaps
By the status quo.

While sleeping dogs lie
Tigers do not rest
Restless in the wild
And in their cage,
Ready to fight
But if hunted,
Ready for flight.
Here I am,
Secure at home
Four walls and a dome
Discomfited by just light!

For outside
It’s not all sunshine
There’s hate,
There’s hoax, there’s hurt
Some think is necessary
And is just fine.
I, I wonder why
And I cry.
Then I see that they are attached,
To what they have
To what they don’t
With strings so strong,
They’ve twisted the strands
Into all that’s wrong.

Is it I, I wonder
Am I that tiger?
If not I, then who?
I ponder.
Can I pull those strings?
This way and that
Till they detach?

I worry,
Will I be hunted?
Have an encounter?
Be put in a cage
And up till the end, flounder?
Please, the time’s not right
Don’t ping me again
That I may wake
And wander out
Of my home, my cage…