Poems by Mathew K N


a poem by

Mathew K N

Are we going to lose our identity in the near future?
As we will be known by some addresses, codes or bars;
In the modern world, everything has become mechanical,
Machines are now being our extra limbs, we mere slaves.

We are becoming more and more idle, a lot of spare time,
Not knowing what to do with the extra time we get,
More leisure, more pleasure and all the more lazy;
Machines became our masters, with their magical wands.

We had good names, pet names given by our dear ones,
We lost it as now we are in a website, a spider’s web;
Known as www.anonymous.com or www.foolwail.com,
Being called as @coldmail.com; @oho.com or @haha.com.

Though some may call it a giant leap for the mankind,
Me thinks, it’s something like cloning, a “cursed boon”,
Injecting the mechanical blood to lose the real being,
Dancing like puppets in the hands of fate and addiction.

God may be smiling at His children’s triumphs,
And asking himself – Where are they to?

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World War III

a poem by

Mathew K N

The world stares agape, helpless in the threshold of science and technology,
She herself knows well, the perilous edge she is standing, in a precipice,
None can predict, what will be the fate of the millions in the heated planet,
Waging wars and engaged in petty quarrels, from trifles to territories.

On August 06th and 09th, 1945, the world saw the atrocities of atom bombs,
When Leonard Cheshire shocked the world, killing thousands, children to be born,
What he gained, what the participants gained, except loss of lives and catastrophe,
Peace, love and fraternity became old, rusted coins of no value in the world.

Is it a pleasure for the people engaged to kill others at the budding stages?,
Ere someone could predict who will be who in the end, the bodies blown to pieces,
The western bloc and eastern bloc flatter about the total annihilation – a few seconds,
While the third world, in a dilemma, in utter confusion, makes a mess of things.

God created us, to live in a world of peace and harmony all through the stages,
Not to live like ants, to be perished in a few days, in the nuclear age of terror;
The dreadful weapons in store for the future, to slaughter the human beings?
With no dignity and decency, people are destroyed, humanity gone with the wind.

There was a time when peace and brotherhood were adhered, to the utmost value,
With little bloodshed, with more affinity, forgetting caste, creed and religion,
Now, peace is a rare specimen, a scarce phenomenon which nobody wants to tread,
Maintaining it’s like plucking the yonder moon or catching fish in the desert!

We, as dead as the “dodo” in the hottest globe, living amidst fear and agony,
All creative inventions lead ultimately to the destruction of the whole world,
Those involved will also perish, the earth will become a handful of ashes;
Leading the world back to the paleolithic ages, the age of bows and arrows?

That’s the time when Lord Shiva opens His third eye to dance amidst subjugation,
That’s the time when friction reaches at it’s peak, pushing the world to utter dismay,
The remnants, the victims will become the living monuments of the worst tragedy,
It’s imperative that the progress of the world, befools us and shoves us to devastation.

Let us ponder over any concrete solutions, to avoid the possibility of a tragic end,
Let all the nations join hand in hand to sign a treaty of a complete disarmament,
Let us chant the verse of Tagore, “In to that heaven, let my country (world) awake”,
Let there be a world government, protecting her from a nuclear disaster, a tragic end.

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Survival (of the fittest)

a poem by

Mathew K N

Dark was the night with no signs of stars in the sky,
Foggy was all the space, drizzling on intermittent.
Daringly went out I to the valley in the shivering cold:
Finding no one in the muddy path, I felt lonely.

It was dreadful to see the glow worms blinking, like lamps,
In the far away hut, I could behold another lamp lit:
It was not an easy task to walk in the lanes, stones,
In midst of fear, I saw a figure sitting in the hut.

There came a series of questions in my mind, in a flash,
I tried in vain to find a solid answer, or solutions;
The narrow path became invisible, mist and snow falling,
I was confused a little, whether to proceed or to retreat.

While slowly approaching the hut, I saw a rustic girl,
Clad in plain simple clothes, shivering, tears on cheeks.
When I reached nearer, I saw a lean figure in skeletons,
Covering her body in rags, showing some gestures vague.

I asked the little girl dubiously, “Where is your father?;
Bursting in to tears, “he is in the other room’, she said.
Inside I went, to see the man stiff with no signs of life;
Beyond doubt, he had succumbed to the cruelty of nature.

In the sea of mixed feelings I stood, thinking what to do,
My mind was a question mark and my heart in utter mess:
In the heaves, God was urging me to do only the right,
Myself phoned for ambulance to take them to the hospital.

With no crowd, the corpse was buried in the churchyard;
God, the Almighty was smiling in my deed, it seemed;
Weary was the girl and mother, hospitalized, nursed well;
Gone one week, they the members of my sweet home forever?

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Love Faileth

a poem by

Mathew K N

“Water water everywhere, not a drop to drink”?, I pondered,
Vagabonding miles and miles, in vain my attempt for a drop,
Evading the sensual pleasures, I went out for tranquility,
Escaping from the busy world of excitements and idiocies.

I thought of the gentle breeze, with the fragrance, natural,
Spreading in to my sense, giving pleasure, keeps me awake;
In the “day dreams”, in the drizzling honey dews, I saw her,
I tried futile, to forget the smell her charming face gave.

I dreamt of the golden days making love each other, piques;
The sunflowers smiling in the bright daylight, danced anew,
In the waves of the moonlight, her skirts glazed, sparkled,
Her bangles murmured, the necklace came down to her cleavage.

I saw the golden rays of the evening sun patting her body,
The waves created by the whistling wind, recited poems;
In the night, she sang like a cuckoo, echoing in the planes,
Melancholic, about the shattered dreams of the lost paradise.

Back to reality, I thought of the changes I had, dotage;
Leaving in my mind soaring memories, oozing out like wounds,
Whenever, I think of her, my heart aches and a dullness,
Pains my senses, as though of a sedative drug I had taken.

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