Category Archives: Objects


a poem by

An irresistible dark brown,
A heavenly taste you cannot relate,
Is man’s most wonderful recipe,
The one which we call Chocolate,

Even if god was here on Earth,
He could not have left without a bite,
Because the return fruit of making man,
Is Chocolate alright!

The most desirable gift on the globe,
For your friend, mother or your date,
Comes in a silvery pack,
And we call it Chocolate!

Island on Mountain River

a poem by

Looming mountains play with sight
River comes, divides in two
To seek two ways, an island
Triangle at the parting-
Long necked, long legged raised winged bird.
No further can see these eyes.

Wish to immerse in currents
While racing around the green
Matted piece of calm flat land
At moment same, wish to see
Beyond these slopes flowing lives.


a poem by

Oh! my books to thee I owe,
Oh! my books to thee I owe,
You save me from my enemies,
And soothe me in my awe.

Oh! my books to thee I owe,
When vacant or in a sad mood,
You are a good protective hood,
Lifting me, up, high!

In sorrow, you talk psychology,
And comfort me,
Sweeter than honey-thee,
Oh! my books, a lot I owe to thee.

A Friend Indeed

a poem by

It flickers last on the long drawn-out list of requirements.
But, it has its settled place in my pocket
Like the stretched string on a Veena.

Drying my eyes and concealing my sighs within its layers,
It takes into its sure sweet hands
The momentous events of my life.
Standing by me in the thick and thin of the day
And never settling comely where it was put
It embraces me dearly
With love and concern
Only to get tarnished in return
With the shades of my sad and solemn moments.

Be it the droning swarm of hovering mirages,
Or the aroma of my fruitless love,
Or the fears and passions erupting out of sudden happenings

It absorbs every single secret of my life into its fold
And waits on me, ever so eagerly
Extending a guileless friendly hand.

When sun is at his singeing best over the crown
It sponges over the perennial springs of sweat
Planting a deep endearing kiss and restores sanity.

At great gatherings, parties and while on travel
It always books me a seat at no cost
And becomes a handy wave of flag at see-offs.
No matter whether I caress it gently spraying scents
Or, wriggle and crumple and cast it off,
It waits a lifetime for my care and attention.
Unmindful of who calls on, it serves as selflessly
And stands out a symbol of love and fraternity.

It’s why I commend:
Present a hanky whomsoever you love.

Telugu Original : Smt. Swarajyam Ramakrishna

The Soap

a poem by

Its bubbling with fantasy
Foaming with emotions
Its oozing out relationships
Defining new fashions
Its a complex recreation
Creating new dimensions
Its quite irresistible
The Beginning of a new passion

Its the new soap
With sparkling new intensity
With a tremendous vision
With the world crazy over it
Its the one on the television

A Demi-God

a poem by

How mighty your hands!
They are really magic wands
Summon us to our daily action
Strict obedience is our reaction
We glance at your solemn face
And set out on our routine race
Our desire to work and leisure
At your sole mercy and pleasure
Manacled us to you from birth
Our servitude lasts till death
You are vividly omnipresent
Rule us majestically at present
You rule through day and night
Dictate and regulate our might
You declare decrees from tower
And in our abodes with power
You ! man’s hand made clock
With your ceaseless tick-tock
Rule us with your time code
Impose on us an image of God!

The Four Candles

a poem by

Burning slowly are four candles,
With their ambience crossing all hurdles;
The quietness and serenity makes you hear,
Of what they whisper from ear to ear.

One said, “I am baptized as PEACE”
“So that I could make enmity cease”
“But now my flame is down and low”
“And any time I might cease to glow.”

The other said, “People call me TRUST”
“People have lost me because of their lust”
“But now my flame is down and low”
“And any time I might cease to glow.”

The next said, “My name is LOVE”
“I glittered your face with a shallow curve”
“But now my flame is down and low”
“And any time I might cease to glow.”

Just then an angel marked the place
Where those four candles were kept
Looking at three flameless ones
His heart sobbed, and with tears he wept.

Just then the fourth candle said,
“People know me better as HOPE”
“My nickname is Ray of Light”
“Why don’t you use my flame of light”
“To make all these three alight”
“Because till the time I am alive”
“There aren’t failures, there isn’t fright.”

So happily the angel took the candle’s service,
It came to him like a narrow opening of crevice.
Within no time were all four shimmering,
Hope had made everyone once again glimmering.

Burning slowly were four candles,
With their ambience crossing all hurdles;
I pleaded hope to get instilled within me
The others said, “Not only HOPE, we too will accompany thee.”

A Gift

a poem by

“Gifts” are a way of showing, how much one cares,
More than the gift, the thought that matters.
Actions that speak, louder than words,
After all these gifts, go into ones heart hoards.
Some gifts emit the depth of a bond,
Souvenirs bring, solace knotted with memories fond.
When a loved one is missed, organically.
Gifts are symbol, of a relationship truly,
Gifts are prized and treasured the most,
When bestowed by a special chum in the host.
When wrapped and offered with warmth, affection and love,
Mist covers any a vision, without its know how!

The Princess Ascends

a poem by

The Princess Ascends (on the trail of ‘The Darjeeling Toy Train’ – a world heritage)

Her majesty-the “Princess” ascends
To the grand Himalayan “Durbar”
Amidst teak, tamarisk trees
Standing tall – each a courtier.

Finely woven carpets are
Laid in all her vicinity
With an emerald green hue
Of the tender leaves of tea.

Veiled behind the mists of Ghoom
“Queen of hills”-Darjeeling adorns
Her imperial throne, glowing in gold-
The “Kanchanjungha”-as the world knows.

The “Kanchanjungha” stands
Kissing the sapphire blue sky;
Draped in golden attire at dawn
Its mighty peaks rise high.

With tiny steps the princess
Rushes towards her mother-
Climbing loops, leaping over springs
Nothing makes her bother.

The beautiful hills greet her
With marigold, chrysanth flowers
But the lure of such gifts
The innocent princess little cares.

Gifts lie untouched beside her tracks
While she passes by as a toy
To embrace the warmth of mother’s lap
Panting, puffing, whistling with joy.

The Pegs

a poem by

The cloth pegs made of wood
have rusty hinges
and they are tired of just hanging there unused,
on a slack line,
in all kinds of weather.

I could buy plastic ones,
but they are made of oil residue
and have an uncaring feel
eventhough they come in bright colours of red, green and yellow.

Boat Bought

a poem by

He built himself a boat,
This lad who was quite shy,
And everyday he watched it float,
Upon a stream nearby.

The wind was strong one blustery day,
And much to his surprise,
The little boat was swept away,
And tears filled his little eyes.

The days passed by and then, behold!
He sighted his little gem!
Inside a store where he was told
It didn’t belong to him.

He knew the job will be real though,
But he decided then,
To save until he had enough
To own his boat again.

When he went back to the store,
He had a tidy sum!
And as he walked out through the door,
The boat was on his palm.

Softly he was heard to say,
“Not once but twice you are mine,
I gave you up,but then today,
I’ve got you back and we’re fine.”