Poets Hall - Hello Poetry

Jan 2015

K Balachandran

A blue black cloud, all over me is written JOY
in the script of vapor, dense, moist and meaningful,
I am light, like a feather, the breeze is in love with me for that,
I love his gentle persuasion to waft, move about, explore..
and then--ravaged by wind my love changes direction.

I love freedom more than anything, but forgot limits, hover
now, I am no more attached to the green hills, they are jealous,
far above them am I, untouched by their vainglorious pride,
I am not hard-hearted, parched fields send shivers of lightning
break me in to thousand smaller pieces, scatter around.

My love for this earth is kindled by the sights unfurling below
all the egrets, cormorants, storks and herons of great magnificence,
those kind hearted friends that fly with me often are in pain
like the farmers, there isn't enough water for anything.

A cloud is a thought, inspired by the love for mother earth
by the ocean I am gifted to the breeze, to tour around,
on many lands fell my shade, found life in all varieties,
now is the time to be kind at heart, melt, fall in torrents.

A cloud when you analyze is a thought full of love for earth,humanbeings

#love #freedom #rain #earth #cloud

Jan 2015

Kelly Rose

Silvery Light

Slowly clouds filled the sky
Silver lined the air
She turned her face up
And felt the first rain drops
Her tears were washed away
And her sorrow took flight
Leaving her bathed
In a silvery light

1/15/2015

Jan 2015

K Balachandran

Winter morning symphony

Swirling morning mist, draws abstract patterns of love
moving sprightly, between golden rays of sun,
prattling breeze and other manifestations winter presents,
green grass on the meadow looks like a dew studded carpet
pussyfooting rabbits, lick dew drops in a hurry and run back
to the warmth of their burrows, to sleep for some more time.

Sun, the nourisher eternal of the world , don't hide anymore
come out, peep above the crowd of sleepy grey old clouds,
looking grumpy, ill mannered and winter arrogant to the core,
don't like their attitude a bit, come out blow your trumpet of warmth
make the drooping wet birds, dry, fly up to the sky with a happy cry
sing songs of joy, warm the hearts,drive the winter gloom out.

ഒരു മഞ്ഞുകാല പ്രഭാത സംഗീതക്കലവി

#grass #mist #sunbeams #dewdrops

Jan 2015

K Balachandran

She is an orange, He is a peach

She is a perfectly ripe orange, juicy inside,
he peels the skin her mind, thickly wraps around,
with the alchemy of his words, see! how well
she reveals, her true essence for him to consume,
one segment after another, he wants to experience
her leisurely; it's her turn now,for her he is a peach
she impatiently waited thus far, to put her hands on,
he is patient, at her disposal, till they fully merge

How would an orange and a peach if ripe do it between themselves..

#patience #knowing #merge

Jan 2015

K Balachandran

White heat

A blob of sweat, a passion fruit,
bobbing on your brow
                                   for a second,
moved by the waves
of tantalizing moments,
as I watch in self oblivion
falls on my swollen lips
                                       presents
a gift of your sweet scent,
there you kiss, again and again
make, fire erupt,from the embers,
form lips, joined *****
                          moving in unison,
and the pit of my heart,
where you have lighted
fire works at that exact moment.

Those desperate leaps hoping against hope to cross
the human limits, are always nothing but futile;
that prompts human spirit to seek other ways to transcend.

#passion #intensemoment

Jan 2015

K Balachandran

Bats, Banana, Blue sky

Anger, is the steaming red on her face
refusal creates in an instance;
jealousy is foaming green
profusion of colors in motion
takes this dance for them to upward
and downward turns,
or a sudden dissolution---
an intense ****** in unison.
Even in darkness he can see the
spasmodic ebbing waves
sleep is the banana plantation
where night wears translucent green
"nobody would see us here"
she whispers in his ears,
as if they are thieving ***,eyeing
the yellow banana she likes, to play with

Purple is the psychedelic color
smeared on horizon when
dreams repeatedly fly down
like night bats and happen
the way mind designs
we don't want to leave the scene
of the dream even when we know well
that the show for us is now over
we just want to hang around
like the dog, in the place
it got a juicy bone.

Yellow is the banana song
that's heard as wave after wave,
by the blind bat squadron
that roams with raw aggression,
for raids above the plantations
Unripe bananas show green fingers
to say "NO! we aren't ripe"
like coy underage virgins.

Then, they ripen, go yellow
some even bright red, inviting
who is blue here is the sky
and those bats who got
the bananas still raw green

Night decents on the banana land
as the white umbrella of sun
is snatched by the dark maiden.
Black is the bat's wing extending
and folding like lust, umbrella and the like.

He finds her shivering fingers like a serpent,
on the banana trunk slithering down,
as he dreams bats, banana, blue sky
and she slithering over him.

Sensuality connects, colors, assorted things and places that become symbols for experiences , ***, lust ...

#lust #serpent #clandestine #*** #subconscious #banana #umbrella #bluesky #bats

Dec 2014

K Balachandran

When The time To Return Comes

"Look at me sweet light, come make my inner eyes yours
light me up, I am the universe, spanning light years across
galaxies of desire and the renunciation at altissimo, the peak
disentangle the  strands, liberate, to my abode let me  go back
How long I've been sitting in meditative wait, for your caresses
for that divine  touch that'd trigger ecstasy in multiples"

My journey is recorded in shades
of light and darkness, it's essence
returns to the flow eternal, dissolves.

I am the remembrance of nights
colored by sad, pale, soft  moon light
that keeps watch to million secrets
preserved in double helix, passed over as
codes that keep on telling stories from
time immemorial,still kept safe within,
which is my zen 'kon' to contemplate
and erupt in enlightenment, my right.

I am melancholy light, driven away
when sea blue drinks sun at last, liquefied,
every tree top then one'd find covered
with fire flies that play an orchestra,
in an ascending wave, touching
the acme,then  comes down rolling and dies.

We lived in a land of unimagined beauty
only a bit of it our conscious mind receives
that anointed us all it has, rain and wind
fog, ice and sleet,the warmth of summer,
remember the way winter made us tenderly
shiver together, as if we are explorers of a
world,we created and dissolve as we return.

Let's try to summerize the adventure we are in

#journey #consciousness #return #essence #encounter #confluence

Dec 2014

Sjr1000

The Parable On The Mad River

Walking along the river road
Was my friend and I
Along side in clear reflection
The Mad River gently floated by
While my friend and I
Spoke about loves
which had come and gone by.

When to my horror I did see
A child
a floating by
I dropped my back pack
And in to the river I did fly
Reaching down to grab that child
To safety, on this day, he would not drown as long as I'm around
I pulled him up and gently
I laid him on the ground.

Before we had a moment
Before a word could we say,
I saw another child
a bobbing, rushing, down fast this way
I jumped back into those frozen waters
I held her to my breast,
A sputtering
A muttering
I laid her on the grass,
There was no time to take a breath
Before another child down the river
floated my way.

I repeated my actions over and over
Went down to that river each time
Until as many children as I could gather
And lay them along side the river's
shallow shore.

Exhausted, now I stood
My friend sat on the green green grass
a crying to that noon time sun
We looked at each other in desperation's
silent hum.

One more
Two more
Three more
Four

A floating and a struggling they did come.

I didn't know what else to do

But I started running up the road
I knew the headwaters were
Up the road
Just a mile or so
or
so I thought.

In the distance I heard my friend
Calling my name in despair
Thinking that alone, I had left him there
To fight this futile battle.

To the headwaters I needed to go
To find out and stop this parade
Stop who was ever
Throwing these poor children
To the hell of the Mad River's
Watery grave.

The headwaters are just around this last bend
My friend's voice still echoes
The children's cries are sounds
Sounds I will always hear.

When I get there
I will tell you what it is
I found
I found awaiting there
Throwing all of these children down
for in this life to drown.

From the snow caps a melting,
The desert's valley floor
Through the farms
Past the city streets
To the ocean's mouth, it's final release
The Mad River flows
Taking our children as it goes.

Dec 2014

K Balachandran

Yin and Yang

Quiet and demure night
one finds out by chance
is sleeping peacefully
on the same bed,
covered by a grey blanket
the sultry day too seeks after,
the tribulations a day long.
One would think that
smug and complementing light
for her is an anathema, is it?
But now it comes to light,
he is more like her paramour,
this face she keeps hidden
so audaciously, the unabashed
adulteress has no sense of shame
"When you imagine things,
take responsibility to it,
don't try to blame others"
You'd hear her murmur,
the long clandestine affair of
darkness to light, takes me
to where it all began..
will there be diversity
that enriches life without contrast?
The Himalayas should
sincerely thank ocean trenches..

#day #night #contrast #complement #energies

Dec 2014

Edward Coles

Pennavin

She stands still over the tectonic fracture
between the love divined through a song lyric
and the disappointment felt in the immediacy
of familiar faces; love as some sterile function.
Tightened gauze over a worried stranger's head,
she tends to the Troubled as a rock garden:
arranging immovable boulders to a sea of pebbles,
opal textures and softened hearts come as a result
of her well-practised, beckoning smile.

She causes grown men to sing at their guitars,
turgid chorus and muttered longings for completion.
An imagined sight: her hair falling in waves
and eddying the islands of arousal across her
heaving, welcoming lungs. In truth, it had been
years since she had given herself to anyone,
more letting out her property for those that she
is obliged to love, and feel love in return.

She collects flowers and fruits in her mind's orchard,
in those spaces between phone calls and the eyes
that follow her strides during tired lunch breaks.
A mindful stupor has overcome her way of living
to the point that life is a procession of duties,
or truths only confided after the fourth glass of wine.
She stands still in the wake of her condition.
The way troubles gravitate into galaxies of doubt,
the way she hides beneath a polluted sky,
stood at the point I blindly stumble towards.

C

#love

Dec 2014

chimaera

Virino

mwanamke

mwanamke

birth my dreams
turn my shadow
into firing flash
anoint me in gold

mwanamke
say my name
warm my wings
in the shell
of your hands

emakumea

emakumea

patient grinder
time carer
you grow silence
in the lit wood
in the cradling lull

emakumea
i forget
unaware
i walk ahead
emakumea
you accept to linger

emegtei

emegtei

i am no more
the scout the hunter
i dream of my gold
you throw into the fire
what's left
from your feathers

nārī

nārī

mirror for me
the story of then
be my water flow

nārī
this tide
in your eyes
nārī*
is it
the intangible you

1. An EKPHRASIS
"In ancient Greece, the term "ekphrasis" referred to a work of art in one medium that was produced as a reaction to a piece of art created in another medium. For example, a sculpture may depict a character in a novel, or a poem may describe a well-known painting."
[in poetry prompt from Poets&Writers.com;]

2.
this ehphrasis is a reaction to the sculpture Woman of Willendorf (about 28,000 and 25,000 BCE); see IMAGE here:
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venus_of_Willendorf

3.
WOMAN in different languages:
ESPERANTO - virino; BASQ - emakumea; SUAÍLI - mwanamke; MONGOL - emegtei; BENGALI - Nārī

20.12.2014

Dec 2014

K Balachandran

when he had to choose between her and the dark night

On the marble steps they sat, much trodden  and hence discolored,
what an improbable place for lovers to contemplate about their lives!
in groups visitors walked up, some lonely ones in silence went down
alone mulling,over the waning of clear evening light, that dominated
the sky was overcast,as if the winter blanket was not to be easily lifted,

She was from a land distant, light carried from too far, to his dark
silent night, that went on and on and on, for a life time it seemed!

Many many evenings, the museum gardens found them close together,
tiger orchid blooms he gifted adored  her hair,he simply loved her eyes,
once a little girl came running ,pleading for those flowers from her
"No darling it's gifted by my lover", he expected would be the reply,
but she gave it,with a smile, apologizing to him for being indiscreet.

That broke an unspoken code, end of a fine spring was indicated,
without any ceremony, it should one day stop, she knew .Then
he too started to await, the bell; in library when they were alone
she broke the news,in silence,her eyes reverted on to his,he knew it.

They sat on that white marble steps , two orphans, had no options left,
still he had  to choose between the dark night ready to gobble and her.

#love #death #darkness #breakup #tragedy #hauntingmoment

Dec 2014

K Balachandran

Perfection

Dear one,
as desired,
meticulously
corrected
the mistakes
you made,
one by one.
In the process
added my own,
do I need to tell?
I take refuge
in the thought
that it was expected
when you chose
me for this job.
All I can say is this:
we complement
each other;
but perfection
is the mirage
we relentlessly
search in this desert.

#perfection #pair #complementary