Posts

Showing posts from February, 2023

INSIDE A RAPIST’S MIND

  What goes inside a rapist’s mind? When a lonely woman his eyes find, Is this happens in a spur of the moment? Is sex alone in its motive and content? The porn movie he watched last night, Did it make him a mad dog to bite? Or his decision to enact those scenes, That he watched over computer screen. Is it because of his psychopathic trait? That always pushes him to dominate, Or his difficult childhood, suffering violence, To choose the path of such decadence. Is it because of bad parenting? That made him a Satan, menacing, Their failure to impart moral lessons, That he got enslaved in mental regression. Yes, men do have sexual fantasies, It remains in mind’s backroom as fancy, They weigh pros and cons, Towards crime they are not drawn. All men won’t commit rapes, Won’t invade women’s secret space, Guys with insatiable sadistic lust, Only those savages will break the trust They are not sinister looking creatures, But guys with charm and calm composure, Turn in to vultures at sight ...

GHOST WRITTEN STORY OF LIFE

Book is filled with many chapters, Flip through one, another comes after, Some pages induced us to laughter, Some are destined to end in disasters. Many big losses and some small gains, Frustrations and resultant pains, Some thrills ran through our veins, As we rode through life without reins. Some torn pages with faded ink, Under the weight of emotions, we sink, In between, we find a missing link,  But ink was never ours, we shudder to think.  Some chapters of life remained untouched, Some mysteries are undisclosed, Some partly written, lying unfinished, Ah, some are totally messed.  We merely hold pens in our hands, It is scratching pages, not at our commands, Story is ours, ghost written by other minds, We are left with only title to find!! © K.Radhakrishnan

WHIMSICAL OAF

Chasing multitude of whims, Forgotten was life's maxim, Caught up in whirlpool of wishes, Dreams of 'hits' turned in to 'misses' Ran after whims like a raging bull, Neither got happiness nor pockets got full, Willingly, over eyes, put the wool, Neither got peace not any thrill. Ran after whims,  got hit.. 'wham', Always got stuck in a jam, Many times duped by scams, A whimsical oaf that's what I am. Wearing the float of whim, Through life's ocean tried to swim, Chances of crossing it was so slim, Alas! soul chanted melancholic hymn. A victim of caprices of earthly tides, Always people have taken me for rides, Towards the gate of hell, started to slide, Oh, merciful God!, be my guide.   © K.Radhakrishnan

LET LAUGHTER UNFURL ITS WINGS

  Ha ha ha, he he he, they go, All the thirty two teeth show, Chuckle, titter or giggle, Chortle, cackle or guffaw with belly wiggle. Snicker, snigger or one with sputtering burst, A derisive one intended to scorn, at its worst, A foolish one aimed at pleasing the boss, Or used as a ruse to get our point across, A loud and convulsive cachinnation, Or a haw-haw like horse neigh at elation, A howl let out unrestrained and heartily, Or nerve shattering roar hoarse and throaty. One from pit of the soul you can't control, A nerve tickling one that makes us roll, Magical part of our  human experience, May they be mirthful one or a kind spurious. A forced one even at a thing so bland, A feigned one even if you don't understand, Sometimes to comply with rules of etiquette, For handling moments sensitive  & delicate. It is surely the sunbeam of the soul, A soothing balm to cure time's maul, Let laughter unfurl its wings in the wind, For it is the rare gift from God to mankind....

VIRGINITY- A FALSE VIRTUE

  An emotional 'Monkey On The Back', Expected not to derail from 'virtuous' track, Venus has to freshly emerge from water, Purity of flesh is all that strangely matters. Overrated virtue or society erected barrier? If lost, should she be stigma's carrier? Her valuable gift to her spouse at nuptial, But for Prince Charming, it is not essential. An acknowledged virtue for a maiden, Matter of shame for unwedded men, Double standard is societal norm, In marital life, it has kicked up dusty storm. Messed up culture proclaims it as cardinal sin, For "virtues intact" bride to lose her hymen, More belief is placed in a tiny membrane, Than trust, while driving in marital lane. © K. Radhakrishnan

TRAMPLED LOVE LETTER ENVELOPE

  Uncared and discarded like waste, Got trampled by men in haste, Washed away by whims of indifference, My soul inside died in silence. I carried inside me feelings of a lover, But feelings got washed away in sewer, Picked up by a scavenger from the gutter, My heart has started to flutter. Trampled along were hopes and dreams, Scattered pieces letting out screams, Enduring fate in its extremes, Suffering from time's vilest schemes. Those days when I was sealed with a kiss, I can't help but to reminisce, Hopes dashed away as fast as an antelope, Lanes are littered with trampled envelopes. © K.Radhakrishnan

PHANTOMS OF MEMORY

  River of emotions burst it's banks, Tears rained in torrents to fill tanks, Screaming of unexpressed feelings, A mire of hollowness made head reeling. Unwritten poems sodden with gloom, Life stretched away in to the edge of doom, Phantoms of memory fill heart's dark room, To dust them away, there is no broom. Feelings took me blindfolded to a place, Where I choked from nostalgic embrace, Shell that guarded emotions suffered crack, Tears started gushing out all the way back. ©K. Radhakrishnan

ODE TO MELANCHOLY.

  Call it happiness of being sad Or sadness in a lighter shade, Pleasure of sorrow and sweet pain, In battle of love even if one makes gain. A feeling as seductive as ecstacy, When one is in love desperately, Warmth tinged with bit of gloominess, Silent and absorbing in its moodiness.  Depressiveness imbued with solemnity, Capturing melancholy in all its beauty, When numb heart embraces wounded soul, Sullen moment, as silent tears roll. What is poetry sans spice of melancholy! "Ode to melancholy" that brought Keats glory, Nostalgic longing turning in to grief, Even if this emotion last for moment brief. © K. Radhakrishnan

I PASS THROUGH PHASES OF LIFE ARMED WITH A SMILE.

  From this phase to that phase, Navigating through tangled maze, Through society's intolerant ways, Forward & backward at reckless pace. Moments when I died before my own eyes, Drowning at bottom of whirlpool of lies, Washed away in turbulent rapids of future, Bruised, battered, still alive with sutures. In the hayride of life another year passed, In its path many funeral carteges crossed, Like grasshopper, I hop from grass to grass, At what phase will leap be from grass to grace? For one triumph there are hundred trials, Before destination, there are miles and miles, In a world infested with sorrows and wiles, I pass through phases armed with a smile. (c) K. Radhakrishnan

RENDEZVOUS WITH A MERMAID

  Listening to roaring  ocean waves, In and out of underwater caves, Hearing whispers of marine winds, I followed her close behind. There was warmth in her smile, So innocent, devoid of guile, Her soft fingers entwined with mine, And her kiss tasted like wine,  Tresses garlanded her moon like face, Blue eyes reflected heavenly grace, Cupid's bow like lips were velvety soft, Hearing her voice, my spirit leaped aloft. I swam with her to her watery castle, Guarded by unicorns, entered without hassle, Princess she was in mermaids Queendom, She reined that place with wisdom. I am a human with blood and skin, The mermaid had fallen for man without fins, She desired to marry  and make me king, For she found me as handsome as anything. But I declined her proposal for a reason, I survived  because of cylinder of oxygen, Before it goes empty, I have to hit shore, Even though I loved her in heart's core. She added mermaid tears in the sea, At the love's tragedy it turned o...

GRANDFATHER CLOCK

   It saw ages come to pass, Ticking, though heartbeats ceased, alas! It's 'tock and tick' still pleases the soul, Though generations passed in time's roll. Beautifully carved out from dark red wood, Great turbulence of time it withstood, Intriguingly intricate fascinating design, A treasure more precious than goldmine. Inspired, I took up time travel in imagination Of good old times as narrated in fables, The clock turned four centuries back, In to paradox of time I did backtrack. To intrude in to Marie Antoinette's bedroom, On the fateful day she met her gloom, Saw her to be dragged out for beheading, In to dark days of past as I was treading. The clock tolled with excruciating pain, As from severed head blood drops did rain, Exposing bloodshot seconds that did grow, In to torturous minutes &  hours in its woe.    © K. Radhakrishnan  

MITTI KA DIYA (EARTHERN LAMP)

  Desperately I try to defy, Just an attempt to deny, The dark patches in my exterior, May seem to others I am inferior. Swaying in the wind, I flicker, In jealousy I burn quicker, As Chinese bulbs in their splendor, Wink at me as they turned mockers. Life in me is beginning to shimmer, As I fade and made to glimmer, Lost in the din of firecrackers, Were the miserable moans I utter. In festivities or adversities, I light up the world in emergencies, Centuries after centuries, From Stone Age when there wasn’t electricity. Flame of the spirit burns, Through me, as night returns, My light reaches the Heaven, I am truly child of the Sun. © K.Radhakrishnan

LIFE IS A RAILROAD STATION

Inky black sky, Some dark clouds passed by, Serpentine track leading to mirage, Just fate designed camouflage.   The track goes for ever and on, Strewn with stones and prickly thorns Umpteen bends, ups and downs, Taking blows and slaps on the crown. All tracks lead to one destination, To reach, we have birth reservation, Life is merely a railroad station, To final journey we wait for transportation.  © K. Radhakrishnan

KNIGHT BEWITCHED

  Drowning in sea of pleasures unknown, Entwined together we let out a moan, Two hearts beat as one as  lips lock, Time stand still as does the clock. Passion mounts as we embrace tight, A moment filled with such a delight, Always dreamed about this blissful night, Your charms slew this virgin knight. Let the love sweep and sway, Who cares even if things go astray, What could be a better way, Than cradled in your arms as I lay. You are the apple of my eyes, Looking at your eyes, my spirits rise, Hearing our heartbeats resounding,  Paradise is here when love is surrounding.   Heart starts fluttering in your presence, My soul melts in our love's essence, My life is lighted up in your iridescence, As love flows freely without resistance. © K.Radhakrishnan

HALLOWEEN NIGHT

  Here comes the night of fright, Ghosts & goblins are stalking us in the night, Spooky witches with brooms and wings. Trick or treat, what this night brings? Scary black cats and monster bats, Skeletons dancing wearing long hats, Corpse that walks and vampire that stalks, Hey, don't shiver in fear, folks. Carved out from a hollow pumpkin, Sitting glumly is Jack'O' Lantern, Let those evil creatures freeze in fright, As the Jack-O- Lantern emits light. As leaves from trees keep falling, From house top a witch is calling Inviting you to taste her deadly brew, And sit in her broom to fly through  Tricksters, treaters and candies yummy, Parties, parades, you and me, Let one and all make a scene, For it is the scary night of Halloween. (C) K.Radhakrishnan

REINCARNATION

  Should I slow down Or speed up? To leave this worldly stage To strip off  The tattered costume And come back  Wearing shiny new one To play again As a new character  Repeating the process Innumerable times Will "The Judge" Sitting up  above the world so high Give me an award For playing  Many roles But remain  as eternal clown? © K. Radhakrishnan

EXCUSES......

  Past smirking bystanders, And crazy fans as mad as hatters, Long walk of shame, back to the pavilion, Subjected to taunts and boos from millions. A yorker, middle stump went for quick stroll, Crumbled was his touted  defensive wall. Attempting to cover "meek surrender" shame,  With outlandish excuses, silly and lame, While fielding he did spill a dolly, And blamed the blazing sun for its folly, Always prickly when he was shown finger, Blamed the pitch for his failure to linger. Umpires are blamed for biased decision, It's his girlfriend who caused distraction, If passing the buck is made a game, We would have garnered unmatched fame, We excel in game of shifting blame, Do not care even if Nation is put to shame. Goes forever, campaign after campaign, Just one pride and hundred  pains. A cooked up cock & bull story, Never fetched anyone long-lasting glory, They are nails used to build own coffin, But we are used to use excuses so often. (C) K. Radhakrishnan

UNSAID WORDS

  Much more was said, In those words that remained unsaid, Thousands of languages, That thrived here through ages, Infinite letters that were spiled in books, By poets, kings and some crooks, Pages were burnt by emotional fire, In the furnace of hate or desire. Abusing words wantonly swallowed, Unsaid, but through eyes they bellowed Strong stomachs didn't suffer indigestion, Though unsaid words piled up in congestion. Are we the slaves of slipped out words, Or Masters of that didn't escape chords? Unsaid words buzzed inside my mind, Through piercing eyes they did unwind. ©K. Radhakrishnan

HER BODY -A CHTHONIAN MACHINE OR DESECRATED SHRINE?

  It was meant to be a temple,  But sadly defiled by devils, Used as an entertainment park, Left it with bruise & burn marks. From the moment of birth, Worth was judged by slenderness of girth, Object of male fantasy,  Of her body dimensions, a harsh reality. Call her body as chthonian machine, Or a  dilapidated & desecrated shrine, Indifferent to spirit that inhabits, As they scratched & they bit. Dresses are designed in a way, Highlighting breasts & butts, they stay,  Body is never accepted on its own term, Here, where patriarchs dictate norms. Advertising a car or bottle of beer, Need projection of her body in scanty wear, Objectification of body has become a cult, Baring all with pride, no feeling of insult. © K. Radhakrishnan

MUST POSSESS EYES OF A CHILD..

  Beyond the horizons of our vision, Not bound by philosophies of religion, Veiled and hidden mysteries that baffle, Can we rein in those moments and snaffle? Obscurities and extravagances of nature, Artistry of God, the grand Creator In the teeth of stupefying odds, This homosapien is still in survival mode. Between breakdowns and breakthroughs, Moments that elicits the unspoken 'wow'!, I would like to eternally remain in that place, To be a child, away from adulthood maze.  Frog that croaks and dog that barks, Sky bound lark and sharp toothed shark, To savour, have a heart, wayward and wild Also must possess two eyes of a child. @ K. Radhakrishnan

TICKETLESS TRAVELLER IN COSMIC CRAFT

  On a mote of dust suspended in sunbeam, Encamped in life’s rushing stream, Staring at sky with moonlight gleam, With millions of humans I form a team. A dancer in stage of cosmic kingdom, Locked up were all the gates of wisdom, A momentary master of a fraction of a dot, An obscure creature in that vast spot.   An insignificant actor in a small stage, From bubbling youth to extreme old age, Endlessly circling cosmic arena like a fly, As billions of years came and went by. Aggregate of all my joy and suffering, The fruits that my toil will bring. All the reasons of my smile and song, Confined to this capsule as it cruises along A saint on my left and sinner on my right, All shapes and things perched in my midst, Kaleidoscopic colours of love and hate, Flicker of mirth and miseries in spate A  ticket- less traveler in this cosmic craft, With no contribution for place in this raft, A pupa seeks protection from cosmic chrysalis, But gnawing this asylum out of malice. © ...

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

  On an elusive and endless road, Carrying tons of sins as head load, With a body that feels thorns on path, A pilgrim progresses fearing God's wrath. Hearing crunch of stones underfoot, Sometimes a forest owlet's hoarse hoot, Even time itself is iced up, frozen solid, The pilgrim, so steadfast yet so stolid. Wading through desert of sand dunes, Gazing at sullen and dim Arabian moon, To Kabah, metaphorical house of God, The Holy ground his feet did trod. Another one climbs summits of high cliffs, Tunnels, channels, chasms and rifts, Bound for Kailash,  Lord Shiva's abode, Pushing on along the untrodden road. But the distant shrine is so near to find, Not seven seas apart, but in core of mind, Allah, Christ and Shiva dwells there, But thy mind to escape from snare. Neither in Heaven not in earth, Not in the wide world in it's girth But in the mind of a trekking pilgrim, Find Him, O' devotee, using thy wisdom. (C) K.Radhakrishnan

END OR BEGINNING?

  It was coming, For me, To snatch me away, To an unknown world. I was trying to run, To escape from its clutches, But was swallowed, And digested, By giant hazy shadow, Sucked in to, A tunnel of darkness, A strange calmness Replaced,   Initial feelings of horror In that nanosecond  Struck by  Flash of enlightenment That soon My wandering spirit  Will return To this earthly habitat In a brand new body End is just another  Beginning  or beginning is Just another end? © K. Radhakrishnan

ISM OF "NO ISM"

 Socialism or capitalism, Communism or fascism, "Isms" only ferment anarchism, None advocates humanism.  Let there be "ism of no ism", Let's climb down from ideological prism, Clinging to them only brought terrorism, Casteism, regionalism & racism. Clinging desperately to futile ideologies, Outdated doctrines and idiosyncrasies, Much worse is our ideological dingus, Than decayed septicemic fungus.  In our miniscule stage in vast cosmic arena, That spins around a fireball like a ballerina,  In  this tiny speck in vast cosmic dark, Goblins of "isms", let's not uncork. © K. Radhakrishnan

CATWALK

Ritualised gathering of connoiseurs, Also feast for the x-ray eyes of voyeurs, Spotlit parade of snazzy pulchritude, They catwalked with lots of attitude.  " Haute couture" they can't dream to buy, Donning them, provoking jealous sigh, Curvy bombshells, grumpy expressions, Strut fashion runway to create impressions. Those girls get to display top brands, Gucci, Prada and Burberry, so grand, A knee length flowery designer frock, Trendy attire that make them rock. Tennis skirts or skimpy gym shorts, They flow in the rhythm of all sorts, Bold patterns depicting bohemianism, Or a demure couture capturing orientalism. Jumpsuits and sleeveless shirts, "Victoria's Secret" lingerie to flirt, Sometimes in only bras and panties, Showing flawless figure in scanty. A gorgeous blonde when it is morning, A sultry brunette in dusky evening, At night, hair goes silvery white, With wigs of sorts, shining and bright. Exhibitionism or exhibiting fashion? It is difficult to tel...

HAUNTING MEMORIES IN THE GRAVEYARD OF MY HEART.

  Song, mournful and slow Floated in wind, in its melancholic flow, Woke up something in my mind, Memories, those were left far behind. Time passed like trees from a moving train, But wounds are still green with intense pain, Nostalgic ghost rose to  took its wings, But it was just a mirage, an illusion of spring. In the dreaded graveyard of my heart, I buried memories & banished from thought, But they sprang up like vampires to haunt, Godforsaken nostalgia that daunt and taunt. Memories scratch, maim and maul, Gave permanant blot in the fabric of soul, Like a battering ram to inflict lifelong agony, Tearing apart and shredding my sanity. © K. Radhakrishnan

A MIS-WOVEN THREAD IN THE TAPESTRY OF LIFE

  Loose threads & tangled knots, Starring at unconnected dots, Self designed plots didn't fell in to slots, Always plagued by troubled thoughts.   Crawling infinity of melancholic colours, Chaos of non-sensical textures that unfurl, Where are promised beautiful patterns? As bright as glowing Christmas lanterns. Is this life a real tragedy or unreal reality? Did I look at it from back side of tapestry? Or am I one of those mis-woven threads?  Leaving gray fringes wherever I tread. © K. Radhakrishnan

WHEN FAITH UPROOTED BY LANDSLIDE OF DECEIT.

  Past glories & present miseries, Future shocks and endless agony, Skeletons of memories buried in cemeteries, Crime worn histories of dozens of centuries. Where is secure ground under our feet? Faith uprooted by landslide of deceit, Conmen are hailed as creative artists, Relations are made with an eye on profits. Lost in the wilderness of our own making, In tinker's shop where hearts are breaking, Are we part of a team of mathematicians, To multiply miseries, are we magicians? Always weighed down by anxiety & concern, Crouching inside cocoon of comfort zone, In  society that doesn't  care about members, Swelling are numbers of backstabbers. © K.Radhakrishnan

BE HENPECKED - A STRATEGY SO SMART

  Though it's against macho men's norms, I have no qualms, To be attuned to her every crazy whim, And fill her heart with joy to it's brim. Deaf, dumb & blind like monkey toys, At every provocation, keep my poise, And happy to pay heed to all tantrums, This human radio will play her anthem. Always wait for her green signal, Her rarest of rare nod makes me tingle, Became a rabot, and gave her my  remote, To her every proposal gave my faithful vote. I wear 40 years of battle scars as medals, Learnt a lesson that 'tis a folly to meddle, If you want to pedal the marital cart, Be 'henpecked', that is a strategy so smart. (c) K. Radhakrishnan

SOULLESS CELEBRATION

One occasion has ended,  But celebration was never suspended, One has ended, another one began, Littered around are empty bottles & cans. A new job, new dream or new year, Occasions to raise toast with wine or beer, Dancing in meadows of life with abandon, Till shouts are echoed in heaven's canyon. For divorcing  past and marrying present, For an occasion of witnessing Eid's cresent, To mark the birth of a God or mortal being,  Calls for celebration when life's screaming. Loud, bawdy & boisterous devoid of mirth, Sans opening of  heart & soul in full girth, Reduced to occasions for showing off pelf, Mere ruse for covering up shadowy self. © K. Radhakrishnan

TUMMY RETURNS.......

  Not bothered even if rebuked, He got his stomach overstuffed,  With all edible things, sweet and salty, Mr. Paunchy, a man so  chubby & saucy.  Prosperity is reflected in bulging waistline, He relished all fatty and meaty cuisines, Tempted in to unrestrained indulgence, In it he celebrates his life of abundance. Work at home came as blessing in disguise, An excuse to nurture gluttony, a great vice, "Gajar ka halwa", it's temptation, can't resist, His tryst with gluttony continue to persist. Fitness centres had downed shutters, Watering mouth isn't restrained with fetters, Bites after bites, he continued to grab, He shamelessly added more and more flabs. Corona made frequent lockdowns to return, Causing tummies grow in its turn, Victim of a strife between gluttony & guilt, That big protruding paunch he got as gift. (C) K. Radhakrishnan

GREAT HIMALAYAN DESERT?

  Cracking walls, Sinking ground, Agony all around, Under exorbitant weight  Of our own folly, Crumbled abode  Heavy melancholy, Apocalyptic consequences, Of unbridled development, Collapse of the very structure, Outcome of ramping up infrastructure, Climate change & glacier melt, Flash floods & subsidence, Mountain crumbled, And houses tumbled, Governments fumbled, What next.....? Future generations  Will enjoy Yak ride In GREAT HIMALAYAN DESERT!! © K. Radhakrishnan

DRUNK

  Drunk... we all are, In this our land or far, On power or illicit pelf, Or on narcissistic love for self. Someone drowns himself in liquor, And pees on his fellow passenger, Someone gets intoxicated by mere glance, And can' t get out of stupefied trance. Some have drinking problems, go berserk,  Others have problems enough to drink, Far from sobriety and also from reality, But feels like God, sans fears of mortality.  Many of us are drunk on poetry, Intoxicated at finely brewed words, flowery, Breathes there the man with soul so dead? Who never drank on beauty before deathbed. © K. Radhakrishnan

LOVER’S BRAILLE

  His fingers brushed along her cheek, To trace the lips, they did sneak, Moved further to seek some peaks, Her whispers were low and weak, Flesh became flour in the heat of hands, Rubbed and kneaded, moment’s demand, Passions built like dark clouds, Bodies falling like rains breaching bounds. Interrogation of fingers turned in to wanton, Caution abandoned for sensual sensation, Desire made bodies to surrender, Powerless against passion’s mighty power. Without looking at skies, they saw stars, Martyrs they were in cupid’s war, In her body he wrote a poem in braille, To her soul, his letters did sail.    ©  K.Radhakrishnan

WHY HEART IS ALWAYS MADE A SCAPEGOAT?

  Why heart is always a scapegoat? For emerging loving thought, Sometimes it is made to burn, For breaking it, all take their turn. Why love starts from the heart? To make it torn when love departs, Why it often gets stolen? When in our every vein blood run. Why heart becomes very heavy? It’s pace is at times not steady, Why poets do extra duty? To weave verses praising heart’s beauty. Why the petals of heart should open? For love and affection to drop in, Why it is a source of light? To illuminate lives to make them bright. Why the heart is always fragrant? When love is let loose like a vagrant, Why heart is subject matter of barter? Requiring it to be given in full, not in quarter. Why heart & mind are warring cousins? Why mind is an accomplice in all sins? When a name is entered in heart’s roster, Why mind sways like a ride on roller-coaster? Why heart should feel all sensations? Why it is storehouse of all passions? At times, be a rebel to cause commotions, And be pure in a...

WHEELCHAIRED GUARDIAN OF THE PAST

  Luminescent sparkles slice through sky,  The infirm old man let out loud sigh, Away from the flow of ecstatic liveliness, A caricature on wheelchair in loneliness He ran his fingers over his unshaven face, Wrinkled,  it has lost its glow and grace, The hands once strong are now limp, Discolored patches on skin like a shrimp. Fierce when he was in his prime, It was indeed his golden time, Now broken and crushed with age, Nearing his life book's last page. His hands tremble and shake, His back always aches, His voice inconsistent and slow, No teeth to chew and swallow. But he is the guardian of the past, The legacy he created will surely last, With sweat,tears and determination, He built a strong foundation. When people get old, They leave behind  years gold, His eyes glowed with satisfaction, A smile writ on his face as reaction. © K.Radhakrishnan

LIVING ON THE EDGE

Beyond the edge of the world, Where endless space is unfurled, Overlapping of substance and emptiness, Searching quintessence in nothingness. Unsettled, life seems an arabesque puzzle, Forced to dance in chao's endless drizzle, Floating in brain weaved hallucinations, Forever drifting and no sight of destination. Sleepwalking blindfolded on cliff's edge, I expect God to dangle from the ledge, A safetynet, from tripping down the abyss I live in that fool's paradise of bliss. Heart and mind are in constant tiff, Lead by heart, I take a leap from the cliff, Living on edge I do not feel edgy, It is the edge that produced prodigies © K. Radhakrishnan

FOR THE LOVE OF PENELOPE, MY DARLING DOVE

  Oh, for twenty long years, Away from my love, Penelope, Memories pierce soul like spears, Faithful lover I am, have not lost hope. My foes can capture my kingdom, Pillage and plunder my lands, But her heart beats in rhythm, Only for my kiss and embracing hands. Calypso,  the gorgeous sorceress Seductress with beautiful braids, Imprisoned me in her island fortress. Casting love spells and raids. Enchanting me with her dance, Keeping me as forced loverboy, Throwing at me seductive glances, She couldn’t make me her toy. Gods cheered at my love, For Penelop, my darling dove, The sea nymph saw the reason, To hold true love was her treason. I fought against all odds, Defied monsters and Gods, To be with Penelop, my lover, Lost in her thoughts in all hours. Sailing all seven stormy seas, Feeling her scent through breeze, I won’t settle for a moment’s ease, To Penelope, my spirit flees. I am Odysseus, the great warrior, Knocking down all barriers, I will surrender only to that force...

VEILED MOON

  Some denounced, some defended, Unending arguments are rendered, Some poets used it as a metaphor, Faces behind veils left many in a stupor. Poetic fancy for stubbornly romantics, The pace of their heart became so frantic, Restless eyes look for 'moon' behind 'clouds', Face of "Noor Jahan", in it mystery shrouds. Those times when 'ghazals' were composed, For veiled beauties with faces not exposed, Hidden, still were seen through mind's eye, That pierced the veil, made them emit sigh. Vacillating between veiling and revealing, The faces are caught in the battle of feelings, Controversy has replaced curiosity, High velocity drama giving birth to animosity. To veil or reveal is sole choice of faces, Let us respect face's personal spaces, Let veils stay in fantasy and poetry, Allow life to flow in rhythm & in symmetry. (c) K. Radhakrishnan

NO METAPHOR TO EXPRESS LOVE'S GRANDEUR

  What brought us together, I wonder, I am lost in moments of ponder, It was the magic of love in the air, That bound us to be a loving pair. It took a single second for us to fall, Under love's spell, we were in thrall, I knew your heart will make a call, Demolishing all the societal walls. Did it happen due to fruit of my karma? Or the intoxication of love & its aroma? Love threw us in each others arms, We are slaves to love's conquering charms. We floated in resplendent love's grandeur, Swept away by the tornado of amour, Forever my heart will be your hostage, Chained in the grandeur of love's bondage.     I am totally lost in your essence,  My soul is perfumed in love's fragrance, Life is lighted up by love's iridescence, The fullness of joy found in your presence. Love penetrated us through every pore, To express love's grandeur, no metaphor,  Love has more charms,  yet to explore, More facets of love,  never seen before.  © K.Radhakrishn...

WHEN I SPILL LOVE ON BLANK PAGES

  The channels of  heart are flooded, Thoughts flowing making it deluged, Unexpressed emotions need an outlet, Through poetry where hearts can connect. Opening the floodgates of my soul, I let go of my emotional control, When I speaks to my own mind, My hidden emotions run wild. When I spill love on the blank paper, The hate in me evaporates like vapor, When I open the doors of my soul, Feelings explode, filling up pages in whole. The emotions which I cover with mask, Keeping them in heart is an impossible task, How long can I  withstand stirrings in heart? Through my poetry, I empty most of that part. An emotionally charged volcano in eruption, Filling pages with my strong conviction, My addiction to express in poetic depiction, All my soul's true light and its reflections. © K.Radhakrishnan

WHEN WICK OF LIFE IS LIT BY LOVE

  When wick of life is lit by love, Eyes sparkle like stars above, Making spirit shine like gemstone, So radiant that none had ever known. No bar or obstacle between hearts, As love clears all malice from thoughts, Hearts make rainbow out of love's ray, When drenched in drizzle of joy night & day. Like an oasis that blooms in wilderness, Love enthralls to dissolve all life's bitterness, In commonest faces made of human clay, Love crafts beauty in wondrous way. © K. Radhakrishnan