Sunday 22 July 2018

Life Lessons With Mani

There is a boy named Mani;
brings he to me, the sweetest honey.
Mani spares time to spend together;
Stories he tells, goes on forever.
Will the rats ever realize? time's no money!

Saravanan
(July 2018, Limerick)
The Impaired Civilization


Once there was a girl, bespectacled.
Nights turn bright when she smiled.
People called her disabled.
Some sympathized, rest hobbled.
She gave two hoots, unconcerned.
The Girl is all fine, others limped.



Saravanan

Poetic Style: Limerick
Waiting for your word!

Thousands of days have passed
Since we shook hands and
Travelled together all this while.

No tragedy has struck me so hard;
Miseries million moved me not, yet
Your killing silences pierces my heart.

Penning new sonnets of suffering,
Plenty of my pens have retired hence;
Resentful of the chap, hapless.

Thousands of nights, passed by.
Since we parted ways, this solitary heart
treaded trails of travails, all this while.

Lapsed are dark nights and cold moons
As I still stay recluse in my room,
Withering away, waiting for your word.

As time turns my hair grey;
And age wrinkles my youth away-
In my funeral, tell your grand son that

Here is a man, who spent all days
Withering away waiting for your word;
That is as buried as my soul in thy heart.

Saravanan






Wednesday 18 July 2018

Guardians of Culture


Keep off the grass!
says a warning board.
but the little lilly 
awaits its ardent admirer.
From Plants to trees,
Shrubs and bushes- they're
cropped and trimmed
and axed to align.

Chirping birds sing
charming songs but 
the gates are fastened by 
the guards of the garden.


Keep off the grass!
says a warning board.
but the little lilly
awaits its ardent admirer. 

From children to teachers,
Big boys to small girls - 
there're orders and instruction
crafted to cultural perfection.

Chirping birds sing
charming songs but 
the doors of minds fastened 
by the lords of the land.

Trek through a forest- immerse
Into the wilderness of its wisdom
Immense possibilities exist
Choice is yours, forest or garden?

Saravanan

The Disputed Romance


I look for thee on the sky,
the moon whispers thy secrets.
Stars so engrossed in little gossips,
they stare at me and giggle.

I look for thee on the rainbow,
All its colors fritter away.
Rain drops hit; winds blow,
To set me free from your sway.

You be this, you be that.
Can I keep my eyes shut?
When you, my fair lady!
Move so elegantly as you strut?

Warmth of the Moon, I feel.
White bright circle is not all I see.
Little stories of the stars, I read- to
Look at the canvas is my heed.

Lonely passer-by passes by the river.
He has no intention to fish
In the running rage of a runnel.
He slurps a few water to nourish.

Now tell me, Oh sweet heart!
Need I to fathom
the depth of an ocean
to understand it's passion?

Truth has many colors.
Yours may be yellow.
Mine may be maroon- Yet
it's neither black, not white.

As I turn your book
page after page,
The world awaits
unspoken truth.

As I unwrap the gift of life
one after the other,
The beauty lays bare;
look how I found you in me!


Saravanan.

Tuesday 17 July 2018

The Battle Within



After all the running around
for those reserved scholarships
that unpaid bills and
the piling up interests
still stare at you.
Who will but tell
the young generation
That life follows 
no linear equation.
that to work our way upwards 
thy career is no staircase
Semi-starved stomach
raise the rage of the heart-for
The struggle within is real.
Sulking at the office desk-
Where to survive 
is to thrive
join the capitalist 
drive to disaster!
Its competition model 
is to do or die.
Mirror their conscience.
embarass them,You'd.
There is a standard 
for everything.
any different you are; 
a problem hence -Your
unpredictability threatens!.

Success is such a shallow pond.
it lacks the wilderness 
of the river of passion.
Yet, when you walk away from it:
Like a firefly in a dark space
You remain an oddity of sort;
niether here nor there.
Schooling a herd mentality
is disrespect to diversity- Remember!
when the last door is closed
surrounded by smokescreen
one puff at a time- pristine souls
leave unannounced- for
the struggle within is real. 

Lonely nights would tell us how
our fragile spirits are torn
between the eerie silence
of the otherwise noisy world
and the vociferous voice 
from within that is 
otherwise calm and composed
You sleep over things 
that belong to the past;
brood over events yet to surpass.
Do you ever realize? You seek for 
truth that is beyond your bounds;
that truth, if you deserve it
will find its way through.

Saravanan





Sunday 8 July 2018

On the Moral Bankruptcy of Our Times:-

 If you observe closely, the average case in a market-driven society remains that: those who work solely for themselves (self-interest) get the best material benefits (reward) and those who work for their people (selfless) not only get the least benefits (demoralize) but also risk their lives. Did you check the market rate for selling your soul? Do it soon! Society is getting morally bankrupt faster than ever with absolutely no regard for the "moral limits of our markets"(Sandel,M) But why do you care? After all you're a product in the market. 🥂

Saravanan
Bullets of Misery: 

   As a conscious voter in a democratic society, if you do not vote for a compassionate, responsible and competent candidate as your representative- who does not make you believe in an imagined enemy out of your fellowmen -who abstains from drowning you into false promises but can deliver on what a moral and an inclusive leadership calls for- whose subscription to a party or an ideology does not eclipse his or her allegiance to the constitution-then be prepared to face the bullets of misery. When you cast your vote, solely or tacitly to further your interest on caste, religion and business, your society's path to hell is paved with all your dysfunctional votes for bigotry, hatred and despotism. Then the monster of violence (see, Khair,T) is clearly in your drawing room. Let that sink in. 
Not Yours, S