Author Archives: K.S.Subramanian

About K.S.Subramanian

Published two volumes of poetry through the Writers Workshop, Kolkata, India titled Ragpickers and Treading on gnarled sand. My poem Dreams bagged the cash prize award from Asian Age, a reputed daily. Poems and short stories have appeared in several web sites of reputation and standing. Writing is a nourishing experience. Otherwise feel emaciated.

Heart’s beloved

Little do they, wrangling in heat

as to whether he exists or not,

perceive that He is a motive force

dear not to the brains but the heart.

Every moment of glory in life

is a sign of our debt to Him;

All deeds, awesome or humble

spring from His grace like a stream.

Firm Columbus saw through leaping waves

warm God beckoning to a distant shore;

Man alighted dazed ….on the Moon

crowning fruition of a feat, so rare.

Things sundry, moving in perfect symmetry,

betray a design of splendid art;

All toll the truth of the motive force

dear not to the brains but the heart.

Battle it out

I yearn for those days last Nov when
When we had the cold blanket
of cares and joys, faced them as one.
Until the malicious genie struck.

I yearn for those days when we
Soothed our dear kin at home
Or abroad with lasting breath of love..
Until words froze in a vacuum.

I yearn for those days when eye
Could see a mate, lips widen into
A smile and hands fold in warmth.
Until walled in a self-made cocoon.

Never in the remote corner of mind
Did we even fancy or foresee a day
when kith was forced to warn its kin.
And feel to be forewarned is forearmed.

This day too will pass into the annals
that tell tales of fortitude and pluck,
straddling the seas and the cosmos.
The enduring breath ever prevails.

Full Moon

Full Moon

I gazed at the Full Moon, pear shaped
glowing like a freshly minted jewel;
Crevices shaped like a wispy cloud
seem to shadow a deep-layered mystery;
Somewhere in the lifeless expanse
Is a beauty that remains nonpareil.
An odd ensemble of precious brains
has unmasked it as bare carbuncle;
Space gadgets unveiled the final visual
of a rolling wilderness without a story;
Yet when a Full Moon ranges in the sky
the endless cosmos fills the eye.

Forest brook

Green blossoms droop in the blaze.

Does the pitiless sun drain them of

 all hope with its scorching rays?

They quake in repressed agony.

The aroma of asphalt slowly moving

In to suck the sap;

Trees, stately and daring the skies

bear an uncanny fear in their hearts;

Even their shadows appear mortal!

They harbor an unexpressed message –

manifold flora has lost its scent.

The brook gurgles quietly below.

The ambience of silence a roaring

curse on the day when it will be

a static sewage.