Poems by sreedevi nair

words

Sometimes the words are arrows.

Some other times they are frogs.

They move about jumping.

Words are manykind like

Chameleon,Doves, and Dinosaurs.

Only words know how to change color.

Words seldom think theselves

While uttering or enjoying.

Once a word talked about its bondage;

Not needed,nothing is needed.

Iife seemed waste.

For what all these havebeen to?

The life that is not needed for the word

Is necessary for the Man;

The man who rapes the word.

The prey

Did u come Summer Birds

The other day,

Will u spare me from

This vain cage of flesh?

Iam just a body

In the summer paths

Where humanim is lost forever.

You can gulp me too.

Iwould be an ideal prey for u.

Tell me if there is some preparatins

To become an ideal prey.

I have decided

To become a prey.

Sufferings given out by Life

Never complain on anything.

Every thing was enjoyed well.

My knoledge remained in complete

If these were not there.

Now I understand every thing;

The prey,the body and this life.

Words again

My words left me

With out showing any courtesy.

When unrefined words

Tried to be poetry,

I objected.

Words said;

We want to be poery.

The poet is their enemy!

Words ,leaving the poet,

Usurps the arena.

Where is the ground

For the words to become poetry?

Words said;

We would buy the land.

The words,searched for the Truth,

That would buy the whole world.

At last admitting their failure,

And remained alone at the gate,

I asked ;

What happened?

Words said again;

We failed.

It's impossible to find Truth alone.

But would give the truth-seekers

As much as u need.

sans peace

Searched for liberation

In the Ganges and the Yamuna.

Felt like ending each journey.

Cows did go grazing

But never did come back.

Bird nests fell in the wind.

Fises are thrown scattered in the tumult of the ocean.

Prostrated before

The fire,the water,

The air,and the corpse.

Prepared rice gruel for

Ant, cat ,crow and begger.

Yet mind alone

Never did get peace.

bats

Bats hung upside down

In search of a chance to be sad.

While sad,they remember

their previous births.

To be sad is a cleansing forthem.

Acleansing from the

Damn life's darkness

A cleanliness

Like the one when iron is hot and beaten,

To make it supple.

Saddned and thus cleanesd,

Hanging up side and down,

Bats could see the

Nakedness of the humans.

A beauty which the humans

Bear unknowingly.

Singular

Body's plural

Mind's also plural

World's plural

Language is plural

Name is plural.

When,

Mind leaves the body,

Words leave the poem,

Sky leaves the cloud,

Flowers leave the tree,

To be free,

The singular me is born.

In search of

Searching me, even yesterday

I thought of enemies.

Iwent alone where

The city lay dead like a sick dog.

Didn't find me.

Searched me in the market

Where carcasses were hung upside down.

Saw life trying desperately

To leave the last grip of breath

From the tip of the goat's sliced meat.

Saw the broiler chicken sitting impatiently

Awaiting the butcher,in their nest.

life must 've become so much bored

Only for the broiler chickens.

Never did i see me in

The government officials who came to

Gather the bones of the street that died

Slashing its guts.

Never did see me evenwhen

Reaching home and getting naked,

Hurried to make love.

Was it me who went by caressing me

Like a lightning?

poetic

As banana flowers fall,

As the dew drops fall from the foliage,

Clouds transform in to dusk,

Reuctant to seek the fruit of poetry.

Poetry is lost somewhere

When ever thinking of poetry

Some thing poetic

Surges up.

No flower is poetry;

Not poetic either.

night

Night turned a raindrop

And hide

On the black feather of the bird.

Where ever the bird flew

The night also went along.

When it was about to dawn

The night got dead bored.

Loosing the grip on the feather

The night fell down.

The painted forms

Colored shapes fill in the canvas

As terrifying forms.

Drawn, all in mixed colors,

When ever tried to beautify them,

Devils kept on dripping down the brush.

Who makes the world weired

Hiding behind the colors?

Are colores the successsors or representatives

Of some terrible truth?

I kept the brush washed

To keep my life from getting colored.

Are human emotions green?

Is Nature green?

Is Nature's green also a guise?

Could easily detect empty emotions on the painted faces.

Let's not color the picture of Life.

On the canvass,invisible forms of voidness

Blossomed.

It is always risky to seek the soul

That throws away the mask.

The risk of enjoyable emotions.

trans: k santhoshkumar