Category: Poem

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Actions melodrama Poem

Melodrama


melodrama
With a sweat on the brow
and a frown on the forehead
twitching the nose
and with the pout on the lips
straining the neck
and walking with a twist
a figure entered the portals

In a shrill cracking voice
raising it high
tempers getting crossed
yelled loud
gesturing with anger
made faces
enacted a melodrama
and walked out of the gate.

Why did she come?
What did she want to tell?
Knowing not the reason
of her anger
Unknowing the cause
for her entry.
I walked into the house.

Categories
Actions heritage Poem

Beyond The Bamboo


kottanIt is a bamboo basket
small and cute
set in yellow and red
a lovely blend
used in occasions auspicious
thought to bring wealth
prosperity and a lineage
by a small trading community
down south of India
known for its artefacts
and architecture
They live in sprawling mansions
with a modest appendage
saving and spending little
giving a part of their revenue
to temples and charity
a munificence little known.
The basket in talk
is one of their many
cherished handicrafts
simple and less expensive
while their gold, diamond
jewellery look amazing
their silver articles excel in
workmanship and beauty.
Like the basket ordinary
the people apparently are simple
soft and strong in accounts.
The rich heritage is
waning like the moon
where modern trend
has taken its toll

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Actions Poem

In The Midnight.


empty nestWaking up in the midnight
got up with a start right
memories kept flooding in
of times when my sons were in.

Their voice calling “mama”kept ringing.
Unknowingly went walking
to their rooms in search of them.
Unlocking ran in to see them.

None was there to greet me
Only the empty beds stared at me.
Just ran my fingers through their bed
held their pillows to the bosom with eyes red.

They live in countries across the continents.
Each one away from the other in a land distant.
Talking and seeing in Skype in an instant.
Well that is how it has been destined.

Brushing aside the tears with trembling hands
made my way back to my room in a tottering stand
slowly slipped on my bed completely devastated
straining to close my eyelids to a complete rest.

Categories
mango Poem

The Big Tree


mango treeMangoes ripe and unripe are in exuberance
The tree provides an inspiring magnificence.
It is in all its glory reveals a patience
that overtakes a philanthropist’s munificence,

The mangoes deliver a colourful hue
with a predominance of green in the view
a pleasant golden-yellow in the intermittent through
Altogether the tree stands out for elegance true.

Boys hurl stones on the mango tree
with that the mangoes fall free
collecting them in a hurried spree
rush away in a delightful glee.

Birds and bats bore deep into the pulp yellow
Suck the juice and tear the flesh with a disallow
throw the half eaten fruits on the ground low
causing a disarray and mess in a follow.

The big tree remains still and silent.
unmoved by the attacks of earth’s tenants.
Keeps on yielding fruits bearing no remnants
growing tall year after year in eminence.

Categories
painting Poem

Paintings


paintingsThe lovely canvas was painted
and was hung in the living room.
It was a classic work of art.
in a colourful gay hue
enhancing the decorum
restoring the cordial
solicitations that was once found
Paintings bring to light
the memories bright
enlivening the soul
by an impressive flight.

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Poem

The Joy of Freedom


bird in a cageRunning through the pages
found a lovely image
of a bird in a cage.
whose big eyes looked sad.

The bird seemed to be desolate with fear
as it had no freedom to relish and cheer
seemed to curl itself in the rear
The image brought tears.

Perhaps the bird was thinking
of its friends in the trees flying
hopping, pecking and singing
enjoying every minute of their life.

The joy of freedom is infinitive
The little bird held as a fugitive
in the cage would get a feed remunerative
but has lost the rejoice of being free.

With a heavy heart turned the pages
recollecting the freedom movement in stages.
wondering how did the fighters survived the outrage
Heaving a sigh threw the book in disgust.

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Actions Poem

A lady of No Rank


Talking of others was her pastime
getting into details was her life time
elaborating with exaggeration in no time
she made up stories of all time.

She was lady of no lady of no rankrank.
Seeing her would tank
the heart of many to a blank,
Yet she carried on with a crank.

Advancing in age she went about the same
not bothered about her diminishing fame
You would say does she have a name?
I say it is her habit nothing to blame.

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Actions Love Poem

The Mysterious Donor


Smiling the two-year old waved at everyone
She was relaxing in a pram soliciting one by one
She with rosy lips and dimple chin gestured
lovely,pram calling all to her.

A grand looking lady took her hand
she ran her fingers through the curly strand
carefully adjusted her slipping band
placed a gift and walked away .

The mother saw the gift expensive.
wanting to know the giver she sat down pensive.
The little one played happily with the toy
unaware of her mother’s turmoil.

Pushing the pram she moved through the crowd
disturbed she walked slowly mumbling loud .
putting things together she was able to unravel the mystery
The donor was none other than her estranged mother.

Categories
Actions Love Poem

Circumscribing Love.


Love takes everyone by its passion.
Talking about love is a fashion
as love is a theme of fusion
where two beings get together without reason.

The physical love is extraneous
focusing on the sensuous
pitching on the amorous
prolonging on the romance arduous.

Writings on love get famous
as they are most populous
presenting a subject glamorous
enjoyed by young and old as delicious.

Love is circumscribed thus
into a narrow fold of buzz
where man and woman do guess
speaking out sweet nothings in a dialect less.

Love extends beyond the body
as it stretches towards things more hardy
like that of affection, interest, patriotism in brands handy
It has no boundaries as it sets itself on aspects trendy

circumscribing.

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Actions Poem

Appease.


Appeasing the Gods has been from yore.
Rituals differ according to the course.
Gods stay alone under the roof
as a means to ward of nature’s hoofs.

The roofs undergo a periodical update
with consecrations and extensions to date
aligning it to modern structural designs
decorating the premises to suit his signs.

Happen to see lot of eyes closed and praying
when gallons of milk was poured with a beaming
pride and demeanor on the heads of the deities
attempting to appease the divine dignitaries.

My eyes did not remain closed for long
as they perceived a child singing a song
on the roads of cities with a broken hood
crying for a dime which could buy her food.

Waking up from reverie found all hands folded
trying to find the sublime in the closeted
while the real divine, the hungry child, walks around
seeking alms to appease her hunger by going through the surround..

hungry child