Daunting dilemmas
Missed out experiences,
Dominated with certain laws,
I remain Breathless!

Formless – flexible but not fearless.
Could grow, but would I get
Over emotional lapses? Spirited yet
Spiritless!

Need to be strong like a wood
To bear every senseless “good”
And should I swim Or just float
Soulless?

Along with perseverance
Develops a stealthy indifference.
Bored out, childish goals turn
Meaningless!

What would matter is unkown – and
What’s worthy is sanity of one’s own!
To accept to ignore bliss is to remain
Lifeless!

The chiselled boat moves with a wake
Slicing the current, and I’m awake
To watch the heedless ripples
To become dauntless!

Am I under tow?
I wonder, but no
Yet being dragged,
With no streams I row!

Never letting it go,
All the time I say, Yo!
Wanna dance more,
So, will tell my every move!

In life’s regular parade,
The hip hop is an escapade!
The time may freeze,
Yet we will move ahead!

எண்ணெயிட்டு திரியேற்றினாள் அவன்
மனையாள் – எதிர்ப்பார்த்து
எண்ணமிட்டச் சுடரொளியை தந்துஅது
மகிழ்வித்தது பிரகாசத்தோடு…

மேகங்கள் நகரவே கால்நடையோடு
காலமுங் கழிந்தது – அவன்மனமோ
சோகங்கள் தீருமென்றே மாவரிசி
கோலம்போல் நெளிந்தது அறுவடைக்காக…

பண்ணோடு பண்பட்ட பயிரது
தந்தது நற்விளைச்சலை அதையவன்
கண்ணோடு ஒற்றிக் கொள்ளவே
வந்தது துளிக்கண்ணிர் ஆனந்தச்சொட்டோடு…

சந்தைக்குச் சென்றான் செல்வம் பார்க்க
வறுமைத் தொடைக்க வளர!
விந்தை மனிதர் சட்டம் செய்தாராம்
இறக்குமதியா மாதலால் விலைச்சரிவாம்!

முதலுக்கு ஈடில்லாமல் முதலை
வாயில் தவளை ஆனான்
பதிலுக்கு கண்டான் கயிற்றை
ஓர்த்தருவாயில் மாண்டான் மனைவியோடு…
————————————————————-
கர்நாடகத்தில் மனவள்ளி கிராமத்தில் நடந்த ஓர் உண்மை சம்பவம் அடிப்படையில் எழுதப்பட்டது.

The outlook grows competing the horizon,
And fervent are the eyes; the orange sun;
The tides of blood wait for none,
And flows in the present, the past undone!
The head spins, and as it bends
Tilts its spread.
As downpour beats, now ready to dance,
Its feet are widespread!

The veins engulf the half closed eyes.
And lightens a thunder from all skies!
Throbs the cock’s heart with drummed nerves;
And grows its skin red, as it cries!
The mud splashes all over!
And lit is the wet ground
With raging orbs of fire!
After all, for what does it desire?

The mask I wore is engulfed,
A life that’s bright and broader
Is being shown with the sunshine
And stops to weep the mind of mine!

Sparkles the pure dew, glimmering,
As I look around, breathing the breeze
Of the after-rain moist air.
And gets washed away my every greasy despair!

“What is it to be strong?”
I wonder at times.
To bear all wounds,
Yet to walk straight is the bottom line!

The rhythmic gallop loses its smoothness,
And so his trains of thoughts
Influenced with those ruthless images
Of laments arising from deep within
Of every woman, and children;
Of the eyes of the young men
That carry fear, agony and regrets, and tears;
Of the burnt pleasant houses, that has
Rice flour drawings in front, and that
Would innocently greet anyone who would near it;
Of clueless cattle, that would ever
Pity upon its birth of not being a human;
Of banyan trees that have leaves,
Which exhibit a deadly dance,
In the breeze born out of fire;
Of the town in the enemy territory
That has lost its anxiously preserved serene cheer!

A feel of guilt gathers in every breath
And is played the flute with such air with care,
Spreading its loneliness everywhere!
The breezy winds stand still, and with time
They melt down on the sand, listening!
So does his bravery, sinking in a lament, trembling his fingers,
Filling throughout in the starlight an unknown remorse.
In the name of culture, language, power and religion,
Poor people, aren’t they divided and fed with the essences of hatred?
And how well crafted is the system with a few rulers
Their majesty, as they call themselves, with a blindfolded army?
And what’s the worth of a passionate individual, a soldier,
With his innocent soul that forever weeps in guilt, tasting bitter,
For the thing called – Nationalism…?

By lending them a hand I get helped, fulfilled, I taste sweet,
As nothing could possibly make me complete!
The time passes on, exhibiting a ballet,
And the work tires not; nonetheless a musical sway!
To be a part of the group is to be a spring-leaf of a tree,
And how I wish to cause in them
A spine-tingling experience by providing a shady breeze!
—–
I write this for the notebookdrive group!