Author Archives: GEETHA RAVINDRAN

About GEETHA RAVINDRAN

Born on first Nov 1959 in Mumbai, INDIA. Had the schooling at Mumbai & graduated in Physics from Calicut University in Kerala. Married to M Ravindran. We have 2 boys , the elder is Lt. Commdr in Indian Navy & the younger boy is doing his MS ( Aero space) at IIT Chennai,India. I am working as a MATH Teacher at Kendriya Vidyalaya since 1980. I write poems in Malayalam, English & Hindi. Published a malayalam Poem collection "JWALA" in 2009. Many of my poems have been published in journals.

An Ode to a City


ODE TO A CITY
@ GEETHA RAVINDRAN

Whether a day breaks or dies down
A night dives into darkness or illuminates
in moonlight
The city is too lively
In amalgamated moods;
Treading with the tunes of its own
In polished ever varying trends
Cheering in passionate colours
Echoing every thrilling tone
As if the lights and sounds
Decor in ornamental outfits!

Often in the huge mask
Of a demon-like creature
Roaring under frustrations and anguish
Multiplying the thirst and hunger
The city opens itself
To deceptive calls that seem inviting!

Trapped are men like rats,
Furiously toddling now and then
On and off, everywhere.
Sometimes draped in the attire of
A middle-aged woman
The city hangs down,
Tired in a day’s routine tantrums
Longing for a lavish midday slumber!

The city leads to an exciting phase
As when a cool breeze awakes
Cooing the hard some agonies
When the dusk nears soothing
It too starts giggling and kidding
Playing hide n’ seek, rolling under the
drifting feet, submitting itself
For sublime catches, leaping high and far
To invade every crowded spot!

Spasmodic is its ebbing, enticed are
The paramecia
Nausea suffocates
Men gambling in streets and
Some inside the intoxicated fineries of malls!

Every minute second being computed
To the cash-tracking machinery!
Alarming is the gigantic eruption of
Anti-social plagiarism!
The city on its own is growing
Capturing grassy greens
Lush valleys, deep forests and
Lands in acres, otherwise of great
Utility values for the livestock,
Gets past now the whims of
Nature’s destiny!

………………. …………. ………………..

Unaware of

@GEETHA RAVINDRAN –
……………………..
l wonder
How moody I dissolve
Into the lousy track of immobility
Simply crushed into granules of
The steadfast time…
Sweeping…

Strongly willing to adapt
To the shabby surroundings
I lay idle as if on a cozy carpet
Sprinkled on it are
Too many duties undone

I just pretend to trespass
Those what left behind
Acting not to regret
Though I am being mimicked
Still surprised I gasp
How could it happen?

Wake up, wake up-
Someone’s prompting
To rouse my spirits, yet
I drown deep into the chasm
Losing even to perspire

The time tricks…

THE TIME TRICKS


@ GEETHA RAVINDRAN.

I would multicast
Every of my beats
Nevertheless
Synchronizing with
These uneasy ticks…

These trickling down
Droplets of each click of time
Aren’t they tricking me?
Yet, they clarify and certify
The dying fluctuations
Over cast on every instinct
At instants, unwarranted

As each moment droops
Waiting for none
And not tempting
Anyone to wail or mourn
Just waning into
The huge emptiness

Inspiration

Oh! That caught me in awe, I felt being dragged

My dwindling emotions strikingly arrested!

Slowly I found myself escalating in a fervour

The sparks from those eyes welding the gaps

Suspicions just vaporized, leaving nothing dark!

His body spoke with an inane build-up

Matched surprisingly to his steps to the podium

The mesmerizing words spilt out so mildly

Yet modulated were those with a profound voice

Commanding the attention of every corner.

Spellbound, my eyeballs rolled and ears spread

Anxiously grasping every bit of notion he sprayed

Heart in resonance vibrated, letting the brain wide open

To be stormed by the wonderful realms of relativity

Time and space playing miraculous proximity!

Not only just impressed, but strikingly inspired!

I chose to leap into the depths of physics,

I owe to my mentor, my Professor the guide

Who ignited in me to love the subject, Physics

And thus the passion for teaching sprouted in me.

The Funeral

In the clumsily shrouded

Backlogs of multiple pages

Torn and worn out

Yet fast retreating

The front line memories

These scattered shards

Yes, these certainly are

My butchered and severed

Mutilated dreams of love

From heart to heart

Once those waved

And thrilled,

Now, seem to die in fret

The weather is funereal

Just aiming at one and only me In havoc,

do taunt me

It’s the ever clouding

Low skies of friendship

Drizzling in the marshes of Estuary,

I am pained!

Totally broken…

None to condole

None to shed a drop of tear

Neither a glance passing by,

Broken my esteemed mirror of

Faithful courtship

My confidence simply spiraling…

Spirits Packed

My lips may crack drying
Bony cheeks may crave for loving kisses
Forehead, drawn in frenzy scars and curls
May my skin be whacked in wrinkles
Oh! True! My hair too would chase back
The years of the glamorous life
Now clad in a rusty white
My eyes, ears, skin, and
Every inch seen out
May lament on the bygone…
Legs may limb, thighs cramp
May the joints ache in unison
Those around may mimic and gossip
Scold or scowl
‘Hey man! You too old!
Why not lay aside
And just rest in a corner?’
Yet, my idling body will
For sure, revolt
Lingering on an inner voice
“Myself must I remake”
Pointing to the throbbing heart
In high moods, sound n stout
Clasping hands with sweet poesies
Ready to step in tunes
With the lovely grandkids like a child.

Read beneath the lines

Look at the man stooping down,

his hands shivering to plead

just for a dime!

enraptured are on the forehead

simmering into stories untold

and never screened

Lashing below the eyelids

fringed are vivid dark metaphors

Greyed are those curvatures on cheeks

plain holding the faded smiles

Rusted to ash tinges

 the lips seem shy there

The long erratic episodes one after other

Enacting frantically in clumsy swings…

Many more are stretched on the bare chest

Waiting to be cruised in fragile moves

Deep melodious rhymes are tuned

along the shrunken belly in parallel beams

Adorned the bilious palms in loops n curls

Those crippled segments take their turns

on the lame feet in every aimless descend,

Beneath indeterminate umpteen lines of life,

cuddled are amaranthine lifespans!

Freedom


No one at home for a day or two
With the merriment of being left alone
A girl in me peeping up, 
I turn this way and that 
On my lousy silky bed
Hands cupped the cheeks 
to heat up the thrill 
curling like a cute earthworm in circles 
The bedspread twisting round 
On my lousy loosened body
I pretend not to see the day widely opened
splashing its rigorous beams
wake up calls unheard.

My Dreams

I endorse my dreams to stroll around
To the netherworld that dominates
My intense animated thoughts

I charge my dreams to chase
The drenched and darkened clouds
Moist-clad, misty and musky
Finding them often nearing in ease
Gliding past in vengeance
Frisking one over the other,
Sometimes in jubilant clashes, thundering
Flaring in fury
The tints of anguish vanishing
Storming away the dregs of lacerated grit
Bestowing behind
The ever clear droplets of brilliant light!

Now I direct my dreams
To dive deep down
Get sponged, rinsed and bathed
In the fresh downpour
Cleansed and adorned in grandeur
I would interlock them with my elated resolves.

Poet The Thief

He wouldn’t say it anymore

Trust not a poet, the thief
Who would rob your heart
Idolize you in verses
Taking away your treasured life
Keeping in hiding your virtues
Sculpturing the poetic semblance
Yet, dissolving you
Into a model’s corner
Acclaiming your silent existence;
Just for a profound stimulation
Often in the grip of passion
He would wave turbulence
Into your viscous heart
You would be an outcast in no time
Thrown into an alcove of solace!

‘cause
I did reciprocate and register

So am I, a poet you narrate, a thief
Could snatch your heart
Merely in the hook of my
Bewildered charm in the eyes
Lashing all my poetic utterances
With an ever cunning whip
Here I’ve built the structure
Definitely, it’s of the divine poetry;
You are used up in secret
And evaded off your treasures,
Virtues and fineries …
Look,
Am I not your poet, the thief?
A pyromaniac!