Author Archives: Pushmaotee Subrun

About Pushmaotee Subrun

Pushmaotee Fowdur Subrun was born in 1949 in Mauritius. She pursued higher studies in Delhi University where she graduated in English. For the past forty-four years she has worked in secondary schools, seven years of which she spent in Masvingo, Zimbabwe, teaching English in an army school. She completed her PGCE at the Mauritius Institute of Education in 1993. After her retirement, she was a member of the Council of the University of Mauritius for three years. She is currently a reader and editor in the Ministry of Arts and Culture. She has written one novel, one play and Short Stories and Fables. Her poems have featured in Setu Magazine, ‘Poetry and Creativity’ and in Atunis Poetry.

Dylan Thomas’ Literary Immortality


Sadly, the candle of your life

Extinguished before the usual span of human life,

Leaving for your eternal abode too early,

And yet, you left behind a great legacy.

Gaining literary immortality.

Your poems reflect a zeal, highly poetic,

From your youth, all enthusiastic.

You gave glimpses of your personal struggles,

But alas! It’s all a muddle

Why you bade an early farewell.

It could have been problems of adolescence,

That give us a hundred and one troubles,

Or love affairs,

Or other worldly snares.

But well, if only we could beware!

Originality pervades your poems,

They have their own richness,

With farfetched imagery, like flowers blooming.

What a great blessing!

To human beings!

You dared to voice out what others did not,

By your artistic and poetic talent,

Whether philosophical,

Or matters political.

Without being sentimental.

Was it an artistic rebellion?

Or was it an expression of your faith?

A strong personal faith?

Resulting in your poetry being filled

With exuberance and a joy fulfilled?

They say those whom the Gods love, die young.

Surely you were among

The choicest of the Lord’s chosen people,

Or else there is no reason for your early departure,

Giving the literary world the greatest displeasure. 

Your writings done casually,

Made you popular posthumously.

Certainly, dear poet, if you had lived longer,

The literary world would have benefitted further.

Yet, eternally, ‘the real life of your words’ outstays,  

Great poet, you will ‘live in them and with them’ always.

©pushmaotee Subrun

Time and tide wait for no man.


Time and tide wait for no man.

Now in the late summer of life,

Realised it was all just strife.

What a donkey’s life!

Time flies, like the wind gone,

And I did what was to be done.

Not what I needed to do,

Without much ado.

 My passion for writing with little outlet,

Hung on to time yet I bet,

Busy with mundane life,

Keeping at bay unexpected strife.

And today I crave for time’s arrears.

My heart’s wish over the years,

To revive those wishes dormant 

To catch on those years latent.

The Cheat, Peace in Denial, The Serpent, The Heavenly Atmosphere, The Bright Sky

The Cheat

Trust dwelt deep in her

Made confidence reign supreme

The cheat blighted it.

Peace in Denial

The blighted in gloom

Clung hard to the shining torch

Sought peace in denial

The Serpent

Sure, he read ‘Macbeth’

To sting like a ruse serpent

And act like a lamb

The heavenly atmosphere

Heavenly birds’ song

Butterflies’ gaiety

Heart springing to life. 

The bright sky

Amazed to behold

Sparse clouds on the bright blue sky

Spirit soared high

Let loose the fear of perfection sometimes

Let loose the fear of perfection sometimes

Fears of perfection keeps us tense

Delays our progress

To protect our self-esteem and identity make a go

By removing our ego.

If we want stone-cold unshakable confidence

Let us have a dose of perseverance

Put the threat of failure at bay with all assurance

Aim for reasonable goals,

Letting time morph into challenging goals,

Yea, challenge your dreams, hopes and aspirations,

Steadily laying aside the sting of defeatism.

Take time to look at the smile of a baby,

Or a wild flower’s beauty,

Its sheer joy drinking in the sunshine,

And radiating life’s brightness like a gold mine.

The Scourge of Famine

The Scourge of Famine

I saw the deplorable picture of a human being,

Yes, a famished human being,


Really unconceivable!


Heart rending!

There he was,

One of us he was,

And yet not a normal individual,

For he was in circumstances unusual.

Where has our humanity gone?

Like the wind gone?

Has it become immune to the suffering

Of a human being?  

What about the government’s duty?

What about the citizens’ duty?

Are we to stones turned?

Have we become too hard hearted?

Where are we heading?

What are we conquering?

Why don’t we reach our conscience?

Why don’t we remember life’s transience?

Much is said on equality,

On fraternity,

Brotherhood, justice

And peace.

Conferences and glib talk over a thousand

Are being held in all the lands.

What we need is to give immediate help, not only talking,

As upholding human rights, remove the suffering,

Of these destitute beings.  

Lady Diana

Most beautiful people’s princess

You left much before your time precious

In a mysterious accident.

If only you could tell what befell in that fatal moment

You touched the hearts of millions,

You will eternally be remembered by billions, 

Most beautiful,

People’s princess most graceful.

The tons of bouquets of flowers,

Placed in front of Kensington Palace by admirers

In front of Buckingham Palace, as if in showers

In London all around,

Unparalleled in the history of the world.

With flags, photographs, candles

Outpouring love from people

Touching words written lovingly,

By those whose hearts you reached gentle lady,

Indeed, those who loved you so tenderly.

Never did a requiem bring so much tears

In mourner’s eyes,

As the heart rending song, sung so endearingly,

For you the ‘nation’s golden child’, as shockingly,

Your ‘candle burned out’ prematurely.



Eema diligently bore the burden of a single parent as such.

She toiled and moiled and fretted much,

The midnight candle she burned

Her family to be provided for and comforted.

Came middle age and she got some respite.

With some downpours despite.

But alas! Never did she realise ever

To herself she can become a total stranger.

Came the terrible frost.

Recognizing even her family she was at a loss,

Her memory obliterating,

All bygone thoughts vanishing.

Utter confusion reigned,

People thought she feigned,

Soon she became the target of spurn

And gossip, and her brain more to churn. 

She had to be reminded about everything incessantly,

About everyone, but soon she forgot her own identity.

A blank, traumatic, paranoid look pervaded

 The once so dauntlessly determined, and strong hearted.

Reading as Source of Inspiration

Reading as Source of Inspiration

If you need inspiration, go to the library.

If your taste lies in poetry,

Classical literature,

Self-books, romance or adventure,

You can always find stimulation,

To capture your imagination.

 Choose your favourite author for reading

It could be Robin Sharma’s enriching

The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari

Full of Self-discovery,

Or Cervantes’ humorous ‘Don Quixote’,

Ridiculing phantasmagoria, the vain or the idiot.

Or Swift’s fantasy land in Gulliver’s Travels

Which our purity and vanity unravels,

Or the adventures in Ballantyne’s Coral Island

Of the juvenile heroes in a South Pacific land,

Or Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, depicting

The challenging hardship of a girl, so heart rending.

Or dear children, it could be Tintin’s adventures,

Making us wish for ventures,

Or Tom Sawyer’s mischievous ways imitate,

Though hesitant his deviance to emulate, 

Or   enjoy Charles Dickens Oliver Twist,

Which depicts how life can have a different twist.

Or dear mums, read Cinderella,

The classic story of love and magic, from rags to riches,

The triumph of good over evil,

Showing how good always triumphs over the devil

As in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, so caring

The little beings saved the princess from the blistering 

Wicked mother’s manoeuvring.

Or dear teen agers,

Take note of books of adventures,

Shantaram can be sensational to the readers,

Or Twilight by Stephenie Meyer,

Or Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier,

Or the heart-rending novel The Kite Runner

Or A Thousand Splendid Suns

Or, simply curl on the bed dear ladies,

And read Sophie Kinsella’s hilarious stories.

If you want to go for real life stories,

Read Jean Sassoon’s Princess.

Or  Betty Mamoody’s  Not without my Daughter, so gripping

Or Jeanette Walls’ The Class Castle, so heart rending

Why feel bored or be idle,

When you can open the holy bible,

Yourself with Love, Hope and Faith fortify,

Boredom and idleness defy.

Or read any verse of the ‘Bhagwad Gita’

To fill you full of stamina,

Why waste precious hours, being disheartened?

By elevated thoughts be inspired.



The healing melody of music reduces

 Anxiety and stress.

Negative feelings releases,

Emotional trauma and blockages

Hope and love springs.

Elation of mood it brings

Music lifts us from depression

Soothes our frayed nerves and tension

And cools our senses.

Music can make tearless, fearless,

Controls our pain, be it chronic,

With less panic.

It helps to live with disabilities

Or life-threatening diseases.

Drumming helps our cell activity,

Benefits the system of immunity,

Fights immunological disorders,

By traditional methods reaching the nerves,

Glands, lungs, heart, blood vessels and tissues deeply,

Exposed to sound vibrations by vibroacoustic therapy.

 Soothing music helps in seeking self-exploration,

Helps individual realisation

Raising one’s faith in oneself,

Enriching the self.

With oneself creating a connectedness

With each and others wellness.

Music can lead you to recall the past,

Nostalgic feelings are cast.

Going down memory lane,

Much faster than a plane,

It can start a reverie,

And surprisingly, inspire to write poetry,

Deep and intense from our long-term memory.

Music can make you a star,

Overnight make you popular,

Bring in recognition,


Bring name and fame

Affluence and what to name.

With concerts and popularity,

Overnight we can amass enough and give in charity

To the destitute, as did Michael Jackson

To the people of Ethiopia and Sudan

And again, to other needy people,

In the event of calamities natural.

And sensitize the people world wide

 To arouse their humanity in songs like,

‘We are the world, we are the children’

To provide for the have-nots or hungry brethren.

Giving an opportunity to serve humanity.

Willingly and whole heartedly.

The Entrancing Banyan Tree

The banyan tree,

Entangled mysteriously,

Entrancing my soul.

Surely you harbour the dryads,

Who weave their magic wands,

To render you so spectacular,

So enchanting!

Thou fantastic tree

Is it that you represent

Lovers’ love and passion?

Or profundity,



Or simply closeness?

Whatever you represent,

Methinks your majestic form,

With hundreds of entwined roots,

Moving towards gravity,

Has completely bewitched me,

Becoming my inspiration,

My guiding poetic Muse.