Echoes of our own grief,
Return to rob us of glee like a thief,
An impersonal take on suffering,
Typhoons of violence wiped out life’s spring
A noble specie of sadness prevails,
As boats of lives sank before setting sails,
Filled with pity for deplorable conditions,
No gloom that came from failed ambitions.
An ascethetic emotion not just depression,
Even if fictional characters meet oppression,
In literary world, it is more alluring trait,
There gloomy characters shine bright.
A moment defined by “happi-sadness”,
Beauty of wilting flower in loneliness,
Watching the world as aloof spectator,
Distancing ourselves in cosmic theater,
The outcome of it is Monalisa’s wry smile,
Think about the beauty of it for a while,
See Mary Magdalene holding head in arm,
It is melancholy that adds more charm.
(C) K. Radhakrishnan
Through the wrinkles of time,
I feel that glow when I was at prime,
Spirit prisoned inside withered body,
Breaks free of age’s tyranny.
Leafless branches of tree of age,
Still dance in passion’s breeze,
In them love birds still chatter,
Does age even matter?
Unrestrained spirit still wanders,
In unknown spaces in search of wonders,
The antelope of my soul leaps,
For harvest of love to reap.
Aging can’t be my final destiny,
When soul savors life’s juicy recipe,
Till that time when life sings final lullaby,
The blazing fire in me won’t dim and die.
Incomplete stories of many,
Half-written in life’s journey,
Adventures slipped through fingers,
Memories of them ceased to linger.
Ideas carried to grave untouched,
Desires held tightly and clutched,
All carried away with the wind of death,
With the consummation of last breath.
This cycle hath no beginning or end,
Another river and another bend,
Over and over again,
Eternal wanderers, we all remain.
For our souls, no culmination,
Born again, another incarnation,
Stories in progress with role reversals,
No time is allowed for rehearsals.
Through endless rounds of rebirth,
Eternal soul to embody in earth,
To write tales of love, hate and anger,
Of defeat’s whimper and victory’s clangour.
Caught in this vicious circle of infinity,
All are blood relatives, definitely,
We are each other’s parents and children,
Siblings and cousins, as this cycle runs.
Along blips and dips of times,
Endless road and wailing chimes,
Repeated offences and recycled crimes,
Wars for pennies, nickels and dimes.
Running and charging like raging bull,
Bearing all life’s pushes and pulls,
Victim of destiny inflicted maul,
Whims, quirks and maddening brawls.
Non-stop emotional rollercoaster ride,
Washed away by the tremulous tide,
None but own shadow was by my side,
Groping in the dark labyrinth of my pride.
(C) K. Radhakrishnan
Isolation spins it’s mysterious cocoon,
Companion to talk is everlasting moon,
Wind, frosty tides and flock of seagulls,
Washed away to shore was my wrecked hull.
Surrounded by endless silver sea,
Watching waves as they fade and flee,
Lonely lagoon smiling at majestic sun,
No worldly battles to be lost or won.
Un-surveyed, unfathomed and mysterious,
But my wandering spirit is ever curious,
I am nobody in this naked stretch of land,
No role, no status, as I walk through sand.
Implacable,deadly silence as death,
Proof of being alive is my fiery breath,
Hearing quiet crunch of stones underfoot,
Time freezed and stood still where it is put.
My spirit danced in ballroom of night sky,
One after another, million stars passed by,
Rippling waves kissed my weary feet,
Far away from the cruel world of deceit.
Fig trees dropped fruits to quench hunger,
Sipping palm toddy, slipping in to slumber,
Days & years passed but I grew younger,
Indeed my time in planet is getting longer.
(C) K. Radhakrishnan
Short blanket in the coldest night,
Trying to adjust but not quite,
Shivering and wiggling as cold did bite,
Just a moment in lifelong woeful plight.
Everything falls short of expectations,
Leaving us vexed with exasperation,
Making adjustments in every situation,
Facing life’s trials and tribulations
Adjust and squeeze in, if the world is unjust,
Just smile even if they betray your trust,
Adjust to things even if dreams get burst,
Just adjust and have no regrets nursed.
Wiggle and struggle to fit in to the blanket,
Adjust to situations in life’s gambit,
It is good to be away from comfort zone,
One can’t always occupy the throne.
Confronted with an eerie void,
Bliss of the life stood destroyed,
Stuck in barbed underbrush of quagmire,
Broken by misfortune, so dire.
Caught up in the violent maelstrom,
I squirm like a helpless worm,
Hopes blend in to void and disappear,
Like smoke from extinguished fire.
Expanding & devouring what is left of me,
Void bites like Piranha fishes in the sea,
I have wings to fly and roots to stay,
But I hang in the void, giving them all away.
“Fill me up”, vaccum in the heart cried,
But it’s pleadings are heartlessly denied,
I keep on sailing through the void,
Wandering like aimless & stray asteroid.
(C) K. Radhakrishnan
What tongue does the wind talks?
Arabic, Spanish or English, do ask,
When it lovingly plays with your hair,
And dries up tears with utmost care.
What Nation do the storms belong?
With fancy names as they go strong,
They lash the world with void of form,
With loud howl, many a things, they deform.
With what colour does the lightning strikes?
Purple, blue, yellow or white, what it is like?
Unleashed by Gods in their firey temper,
Deadly and devastating, as we shudder.
Where does the thunder go when it dies?
As it roars from dark and cloudy skies,
Mighty strike of the hammer of Thor,
As the Viking God rode through sky’s core.
(C) K Radhakrishnan
Prickly cactuses and tumbleweeds,
Scattered there like human creeds,
Miles and miles of sand dunes,
Hidden insects sing in rapturous tunes.
Where eagles circle over for prey,
As sand vipers sneak out in day,
Giant spiders and deadly lizards,
The sun was blacked out by blizzard.
Ghostly voices moaning and wailing,
As sandstorms rise to touch sky’s ceiling,
Ah!!, a medieval castle in the barren land,
Who built it in the nothingness of sand?
The wind is the architect who twisted,
The ravines and rocks got blasted,
To form a shape resembling a castle,
A bizarre “ DEVIL’S CITY” in the middle.
Our minds are like lonesome deserts,
Showing mirages to unsuspecting hearts,
Growing prickly weeds of hatred all time,
Deadly creatures roam around to maim.
The vast expanse of mind mostly empty,
But it holds poisonous thoughts in plenty,
The innocent heart seeks an oasis,
But the malicious mind denies it spaces.
In the serene land of solitude,
Where no mortals or Gods do intrude
Unhindered, the rivers of thoughts flow,
Creativity blooms and legends grow.
In the tunnel of solitude,
Bullet train of imagination speeds,
In the battle of words, mighty pen bleeds,
From the shackles of world I am freed.
In the theatre of solitude,
Where nothing sans air that broods,
Soul conducts a musical concert,
With heart, the mind does a little flirt.
In the hermitage of solitude,
All the vile thoughts gets subdued,
Away from all the dins of multitude,
Unbound joy hearts exude.