POETIC FLAVOURS

  Wipe the slate of your life clean, Let this habit be routine, Life will never lose its sheen, If you wipe away your spleen. (Spleen-Resentful anger) Every day dawns with hope, A mirthful life is within our scope, Keep on climbing the slippery slope, There is nothing that you can't cope. Let your creativity be an outlet, In it, all negativity to drain out, Creative thoughts makes mirth to sprout, In it, all hurts and malice to face the rout. Sprinkle the spice of love to feel inspiration, Let inspiration to spark on sensation, Sensation to wipe away tears of desolation, Nothing more, just add some dedication. © K.Radhakrishnan

  To un-endurable level agony did reach, The devil of his mind let out a screech, Unheard went what his soul had preached, A plot to take him to hell was hatched. Did his debits and credits not square up? Were there more slopes in life than ups?  He couldn't tear life's single page, Oh!! whole book was burnt in a fit of rage  Did he challenge Creator's supremacy? That not He but he alone has authority, When body is brutalized by mind, How long one can withstand life's grind? Dragged from sleep by inner skirmish, He waged a losing battle  but did perish, Tried find hope with spirits and dope, What came to rescue was a piece of rope. (C) K.Radhakrishnan

  I am a figment of your imagination,  Merely product of your creation,  Fabrication of mind conjures up things, Then it takes wings and opinion swings. “Who am I", answer will elude, as you seek, Am I good or bad, strong or just weak? Am I unique one? or just like anyone? Am I the real? or pretending to be someone? Is it the poetic me? or the musical me?  Is it the friendly me?, or the hateful me? Is it the parent in me? or the  child in me?  Is it  the perfection in me?or the fault in me? Is there saintliness in me?, swindler in me? Is there goodness in me?, emptiness in me?  Is there a fighter in me?, an imposter in me? Am I the genuine me? or the pretense in me?  I don many attires, you can't find out anyway, Can you Peel off layer, unmask me someday? What you think is  a conjecture of your mind, Just treat me just as one of the human kind. © K.Radhakrishnan

  Twilight and sullen evening bell, Some life has met its lull, And after that the dark, Extinguished were the sparks. Just another end, Another one of God’s designed trend, Crossing many rivers and bends, I am merely on His errand. I am neither a fiend,  Nor the one to be called a legend, No such feats to be remembered, Meaningless strife to earn measly bread. When heavenwards I ascend, Some crocodile tears will be shed, An obituary will be reluctantly read, But, While in life, can I make amends?  This journey has to end someday, The end should come in meaningful way, The one who finds glory in his decay, In hearts he will forever stay. Had I walked in the path that leads to hearts, To reign inside all heart's loving parts, I will be immortal if life departs, To stay forever as “darling of the hearts” (C) K.Radhakrishnan

  A bit below what is just right, But keep the rope just enough tight, Let go your sublimity for absurdity, For a while, let heart guided by stupidity.   Tailor emotions to circumstances, Plough deep in the field of chance, Jiggle, wiggle, from principles, crawl back,  And always be an easy nut to crack. Bargain with devil to escape deep sea, Keep thy soul conscience free, Keep bending and be not averse to breaking, Bear it all, though your soul may be aching  (C) K. Radhakrishnan

Pincushion for all your weather woes, Blamed for drought or deluge throes, Less scientific and more ambiguous, Our predictions always turn out suspicious. Gibberish of "precipitation", "deep depression", Form part of our daily briefing session, "El Nino" comes as handy scapegoat, When possibility of rain seems so remote. We say "shine", it always happens to rain, Our reputation always goes down the drain, Doppler radar, super computer and satellites, All those didn't help our predictions go right. Like bureaucrats, we too play blame game, For lesser rain, "foreign hands", we name, "Winds from Pakistan blocked monsoon, It will come but we do not know how soon", We are always right, just our timings are off, For weather itself, we are subjects of scoff, Our reports are still looked at with credibility, Even though tons of evidence to the contrary. Too right too often for you to ignore, Too wrong too often to rely and be sure...

  Nostalgia for what never was mine, I hold to heart another lost shrine, Fury of emotions with no pause, As memory bites me with its jaws. The pulsing rush of longings, Magical dreams with golden wings, Thoughts of them screaming and calling, As starry night comes falling.    I want and want, never have, Still dance in the dreamy wave, My poor heart will forever crave, Even if I reach the gate of grave. Nostalgia of accidental encounter, Heartbeat sounded like thunder, My mind still roams yonder, Why I let them slip, I wonder. Memories robbed years of my sleep, Even time lost its leap, only to creep, My songs were filled with longing, Her heart never had feelings of belonging. © K.Radhakrishnan

  Not just a gap between birth and death, Not just a process of drawing breath, Life!, thou art can’t be confined to semantics,    Thy psychosomatic prances defy all logic. Groping blindfolded in thy jumbled attic, Rummaging through contradictions, frantic, Unearthing dusty relics of the past, Kicking my own shadow, in spell thou cast. In uneven pitch, you hurl thy bumpers, Foxing with googlies and take to cleaners, Thy streams polluted by ideologies, Leaving me hollering in own idiosyncrasies. Moving with thee to culmination of thoughts, Fighting a war with those ‘oughts’ and ‘nots’, Drugged and dulled, tied up in knots, You call  shots, I am reeling under thy plots. © K.Radhakrishnan

  Like hoarded gold she kept them locked, In the chambers of heart, blocked, She didn’t dare to let them escape, And they grew in to fearful shape. She pretended there wasn’t one, To be kept from others hidden, Deposited like fossils and stones, Concealed deep in her soul’s zones. Kept in cramped dark space inside She didn’t allow the secrets to slide, Not any trust-worthy soul to confide, She bore agony, preserved her pride. Like keeping treasure in mausoleum, Buried feelings perished without freedom, Ghosts of her feelings ate away her soul, But she didn’t allow feelings any parole. Her secrets were not of any sin, Just she couldn’t find any expression, In vaults of her heart it will remain, Love couldn’t find her sweet confession.   © K.Radhakrishnan

  Far from the maddening crowds, Let's fly away and dance in the clouds, Let the stars sing the melody of love, Angels and fairies clap from above. Swaying in to sweet feelings of ecstasy, In the blissful love's euphoric  serenity, Hearing the heartbeats of mystic melody, Dancing in the land called fantasy. Whoo!! it is a feeling so heavenly, Needing you so helplessly, Holding you close and breathing heavily, Hearing the tender rhapsody. © K.Radhakrishnan