Sunday, May 11, 2008

അമ്മ

അമ്മ, രണ്ടക്ഷരത്തിലൊതുങ്ങുമര്‍ത്ഥമോ?
അര്‍ത്ഥശൂന്യതയോ?എന്നെനോക്കി
ച്ചിരിക്കുന്നൂ അര്‍ത്ഥഗര്‍ഭമായ്,മെല്ലെ..മെല്ലെ..

യൌവ്വനം സമ്മാനിച്ച ഉദരത്തിന്‍പുഷ്പ്പങ്ങളെ,
പൂമരക്കൊമ്പുകളാക്കിമാറ്റിയവളമ്മ,
അമ്മയാം കാലത്തിന്റെദീനതയാര്‍ന്നമുഖം,
വിങ്ങിക്കരയുമ്പോള്‍ നാമെന്തോമറക്കുന്നൂ.

മിന്നുന്നകണ്ണുകളില്‍ ദീനതനിഴലിക്കും,
ചുമന്നുതുടുത്തൊരുകവിള്‍ത്തടം വിളറീടും,
അക്ഷരവ്യക്തത അക്ഷരതെറ്റുകളായ്നാവില്‍വീഴും,
നടനവശ്യത നടക്കാന്‍പോലുംവയ്യാതാക്കും.

പൊയ്പ്പോയവസന്തത്തിന്‍ തിളക്കവും മനസ്സിലേറ്റി,
ഗതകാലജീവിതസൌരഭം സ്വപ്നംകാണും,
അന്നത്തെയുവതി ഇന്നെന്തേ തളര്‍ന്നുപോയ്,
ഇന്നത്തെഅമ്മയേ എന്തേമറന്നുപോയ്.

സകലവും മക്കള്‍ക്കുനല്‍കുവാന്‍ ശ്രമിച്ചവള്‍,
സകലവുമവരുടെ നന്മയ്ക്കായ്ചെയ്തവള്‍,
തന്നിലെജീവന്‍ പോലുമവര്‍ക്കായുഴിഞ്ഞവള്‍,
തന്നിലെകഥയില്ലായ്മയിലിന്നും ലജ്ജിക്കുന്നൂ..

Thursday, May 1, 2008

ആദ്യമായ്

പട്ടുടുപ്പിട്ടൊരു ബാലചാപല്യങ്ങള്‍,
പട്ടുറുമാലില്‍കണ്‍ തുടച്ചു,
അച്ഛന്റെ കൈപിടിച്ചിന്നും പതിവുപോല്‍,
അക്ഷരത്തിന്‍ ചുറ്റില്‍ഞാന്‍ നടന്നൂ.
അറിവില്ലാപൈതലായ് യെന്നുള്ളമെന്തിനോ,
അറിവുകള്‍ക്കായ് പരതിനിന്നൂ.
അറിയാത്തഭാവത്തില്‍ അച്ഛന്‍പിടിവിട്ടു,
അകലെയെങ്ങോ പോയ്മറഞ്ഞൂ.
അറിവുകളായിരം നേടിയെടുക്കുവാന്‍
അക്ഷരമാലയെന്‍ കൈപിടിച്ചു.
അറിവിന്‍ നിറവിനായ്കാത്തുനിന്നൂ,ഞാന്‍
അച്ഛനെവീണ്ടും തെരഞ്ഞുനിന്നൂ
നിറയും മിഴികളുമായ് വഴിവക്കില്‍,
അച്ഛനെ ഓര്‍ത്തുഞാന്‍ കരഞ്ഞൂ..

Friday, January 11, 2008

Flowering Trees



Flowers marked me,
Standing a blossom tree.
Searching for flowers.
They did come.
Many think
Dreams of flowers
Are real.
I filled flowers with
Offerings.
Flowers is not a message
Flower Should not become a message
Flowers are to wither.
No one needs flowers that
Withered yesterday!
Remembering even
The withered flowers
Is against the Nature!
Flowering tree shouldn;t feel loneliness.
So felling flowers,
I kept my loniless away,
There was no fragrance of flowers
On my trunk
Finally flowers did forget me.
None recognized me.
Each flower hurried to grow.
Is growth a sin?
In the fulfillment of growth
Even if beauty and fragrance are gained,
A fall is inevitable.
I got bored
Looking up again and again.
Can you put me down?

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Solitude


I build a monument for my sorrows
On the planet of solitude.
Thoughts fly like butterflies.
The friends who said would come
Do not call even.
Grief is not for the mind to bear now.
Its the right of the body.
Grief has neither languages nor countries or homes.
They began from one place and goes somewhere.
But will my body suffice to harbor
The Wandering Pains?
I wait on the beaches of memories
But my mind is now shattered as sand.
Is this fragmentation
My existence?
I walk, wafting off many people in me.
All soft emotions turned hard iron,
By the touch of time.
How changed I am!

Saturday, December 29, 2007

Scattered rain


A drop of rain
Turned me on.
Is somebody coming
To drag me through the
Mystic paths of unknown Love?
What I got from the nail tips of the rain
were some admonishments, and sighs.
Could those rain drops
Rob the lust from my eyes?
Like an organism,
The rain drop beckons me,
But I could never see
The rain at all.
Rain is like idols of shattered life.
Still my mind did not calm down.
On each glass piece of the shattered mind
Seeking the rain, I gaze into the sky and the mind.
I wish my love
Showered down as rain.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

The Serpent's journey


Why should we gaze at the lines,
On the hands that reach to hug?
I love the bosom's fineries of love
That comfort me.
The look of the love-showering eyes,
My angst.
The beauty of the eyes that behold,
Another domain
I do not need its perceptions,
Nor its beauty.
Honeys do drip in words:
I do not need that
Words that do slip out of tongue
Do not provide bread
For my ill temper.
I search for love
In all lips.
More than the beauty of lips
Who needs the clinical decorum
of the dentals?
When I look into my soul,
I can see all these,
My belief's my breath.
I cherish the sigh of
The mind that comes searching for me;
Not the beauty of the nose tip.
I do not seek the beauty of
The hands that embrace me.
I remember the rare love and the silent touch of the hands.
I will plant myself in the
Overflowing love of the heart
Rather than in its hardness.
Neither the decor of the feet
Nor its shape
would decide my cousrse.
The trust, on the solid earth
like unending will power
crawls into my thoughts
Like a serpent,
My feet do follow
That serpent's journey
Endlessly

Monday, November 12, 2007

Love's Remains

There's no love in this mind.
There's only the smoke from the pyre of the mind.
That was deserted by the love.
My fate ever was to gather and burn
The remains of loveThrown away by many.
I waited for the remains of love.
I burned the remains thrown out to me,
by those who ran to battle field,
those who sneaked out to steal money,
those who took the evining walks,
not attributing any sanctity to them.
How free Iam!