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.

Prayer Supported by Action

Prayer is definitely what makes our days shine,

Submitting ourselves wholly makes us feel fine.  

But prayer should be supported by due action,

Fully integrating both prayer and action,

Letting go of our sense of control prayerfully,

Cooperating with God’s work fervently.

If we simply pray but don’t act justly,

 Our faith won’t bear fruit ultimately.

More harm will result without contemplation,

And less good, even with well-intended actions.

Therefore, action should follow prayer,

For blessings to blissfully shower.

In today’s religious, environmental,

 And climate political,

Giving rise to unexpected upheavals,

Our complete surrender to the Lord is vital.

Listening to our hearts’ longings is vital,

Before thinking of healing global.

Each of us should resort to productivity,

Be it insignificant initially,

And if then we implore to the Almighty,

Mercy will rain on us ultimately.

If we use the Lord’s gift of human intelligence

Trying hard will certainly lead to deliverance.  



Alas! What is born should die.
That it brings much sorrow and grief is no lie,
In many, emotional pain and depression,
All unavoidable truths in succession.

Of all biological functions bereft,
Of life nothing left,
The corpse, a set of remains, a cadaver
When all flesh gone, merely a skeleton later.

Innumerable are the causes which bring about deaths
Trauma resulting in terminal injury, or accidents,
Homicide, dehydration, starvation or malnutrition,
Disease, aging or predation.

Many cultures and religions believe,
After death, again you live,
In after life, you gain a recompense
Or for one’s sins a sentence.

Buddhists believe after death there is enlightenment,
Plato termed the separation of soul and body as bereavement.
According to Epicurus ‘when death is we are not’.
And Hinduism maintains after death people reincarnate.

Nowadays, we have almost lost count of who is dying,
Such a heavy death toll, the ravaging pandemic is causing.
Alas! Death comes as the great leveller unaware
And lays its icy hands alike on kings and beggars, beware.

The Invisible Enemy

The invisible enemy came furtively,

With crown and all, disastrously,


Flew over one land to another,

Without any bother

Of the devastations,

The havoc, the utter desolation,

The deprivation.

The poor who depend on daily stipends

Have been left without any stand

Like a whirlwind it has left so many impoverished,

Helpless, famished.

And worse still, with satanic relish

It has caused so many to relentlessly perish.  

Alas! The hungry crowned one, invisible,

Seems to be insatiable.    

How long we puny human beings will be attacked?

How long will our body and mind be ransacked?

The unquenchable seems so ruthless,

Not sparing rich or poor, being utterly merciless,

Vanishing into thin air our pride.

We don’t know where to hide.

To bandage our faces oddly,

 Or wear double masks, to protect totally.

Staying centred

Staying Centered

Uncertainty is certainty.
We know little about the devastating effects surely
Of the pandemic crisis and its advent.
Mundanity isn’t the central torment
Uncertainty is prevailing in the moment.

Why not the mental error affecting avoid
Be being centered, not devoid
Mistaking uncertainty for speculation,
Bingeing on information,
Why not ward off the threat into fast oblivion?

Why not ration your news intake,
Instead, for a little hope to poetry take.
It’s just another of the many stress-relieving
And humanizing inputs that we are missing,
Instead of our state totally aggravating.

And like Keats,
Fly on the wings of poesy
To a world of discovery,
Feeding your imagination,
Making creative beauty your consolation.


5 Hay(na)ku



Necessity became

Mother of invention.



Converted me,

Jack of trades.



Urgency, boosted

Awakening, proaction, self-dependency.



Preserver, destroyer

Mercy, You Lord!



Solace, reassurance,

Almighty, pestilence saviour!

Just plain exhausted?

Just plain exhausted?

If you’re just plain exhausted

You just need to retreat a little from the world

Or a nap you take

Or sink into a long sleep not leaving it at stake.

 If it’s love you are asking about, or work,

Take a break,

And spend some time without interruption,

In serious reflection.

If an unpleasant drama arrives unexpectedly,

Approach it philosophically

With other parties.

Remind them of the bigger realities

About plans not aligning

Or when tensions are rising,

Take a step outside promptly,

 And just take a big breath of fresh air vigorously.

The Cottage,et al

The Cottage

The lush green valley

The solitary hamlet

Spoke a sad past tale



Brought a smile on my sad face

With glimpses of mum’s smile

 Boredom to passion

Boredom led to books,

Brilliant ideas soon unfurled,

Passion it became.

Waiting in Vain

Waited for love’s bloom

Pined, wept, fretted, despaired,

Frost set in cruelly.

Miles to go

Miles and miles to go,

Less time, health, inspiration, 

But, endurance reigns.

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.