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Ceida Uilyc Apr 2018
How we c o i l and s w i r l
Serpents                        into
Bright           and       black.

          Gnawing and pawing
                             Beavers into
          Bobbed apples      seeds.

Why we writhe and ache
  Worms           into
Withdrawals headaches.

                            Hermits        on Holy Grail Chase
                            Beacons into
                                                        Dist­asteful      b l u r s.

                                     May we shine
Eagles into
Suns and kins.
Ceida Uilyc Apr 2018
When she plucked
Glass shards
Pricking my sole with a surgeon’s ease
While I lay
Wondering how sharp her eyes were.
She made me cry
Scream and Wail that day

Now
11 years since then.


When she looked
Dandruff tards
Molding my scalp with a blinded finesse
While I lay
Pondering in her lap how long there was
She made me smile
Sadly and shed tears yesterday

Now
11 years since then.
When my Amma (mom) inspected by dandruff-clad head, she failed to notice the dandruff yesterday.
She is getting old.
She is going away.
She who could pluck the thornes and stuck-glass-pieces with a surgeon's ease a few years ago ... is a blind surgeon.
She doesn't know.
I won't let her go.

She makes me laugh, cry and smile with a strange sadness now.
I hope she lives forever.
I can't think of a life without you.
Love you so much Ma.
Ceida Uilyc Mar 2018
Wondering when I let go of the loot
Might delusion swing me on a chute?
Ceida Uilyc Mar 2018
Subtle misery amber soot
Soothing its way numbing mute
Dopamine Aye!
Purple they say it shows up. It's purple I hope that pops down.
Purple tangled the haiku rules, not me.
Ceida Uilyc Mar 2018
There was once an English Sir
With a waist pricked by hernia in a pur
He said it's not ‘Two-Dai’, *****
But, ‘To-Die’, say it right
That was 13 years ago
And I still trip on To-Die
By Joseph Sir.
A fleeting memory of my Sixth Grade English Sir. Hope he's alive, hale and hearty as ever!
Ceida Uilyc Mar 2018
Mirage mirror
Told I must fall
the lower

Dainty Saints
Vowed this is all
the more

Sizzling scissors
Made me small
they bore

Pity,
gore
and snuffed pores
***** no more today.
mirage mirror is a character I'm working on. Throw in thoughts, any at all!
Ceida Uilyc Mar 2018
They call us Madrasis
Incarcerated Buddhas
Not Cholas nor the Devadasis
But agglomerated Cheras.
Who knew the Pandyas, anyway?

They call us Archetypes
On Iridescent Thalis
Of Sambars and rice cakes in thin stripes
Slurping on leafy banana like malis.
Who knew the God’s Own Country anyway?

They call us Annas
Sandalwood Veerappans

Lemon for Evil at four annas
Skirting Lungi blooms and Hairy Chappans*
Where is Madras anyway!
*Hindi Word= Mali= Gardener
*The Famous South Indian Dacoit of Sandalwoods
*Hindi Word= Chappan= Chest, Wealth

A commentary on how people in the North Segregate people of South India. Although subtle, oftentimes, harshness of the racism pulls you to freefall through bores of molten shivers.
To North Indians out there, I’m not a Madrasi. I’m not a Mallu. Call me a Keralite. Call me a Malayali. I will rebut regionalism with another sharded verse!
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