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1.7k · Jan 2013
Empathy
K Balachandran Jan 2013
Her intense presence
does something tender,
to his heart;
that eludes words.

               When she speaks,
               in a soft soothing tone,
               the pain she suffers,
                submerges, goes missing.
                How much she endures,
                how long,
               he can't fathom.
A silent grief
binds them together;
he is the mirror
that faithfully reflects.
He feels now
the gentle spread of moisture
enveloping them both;
dried up skin
on his face comes to life again.
Lips, curled up dry leaves,
are pumped up with chlorophyll,
turn towards her, the sun.
                                     He dissolves,
                                     in the thought
                                     of her pain,
                                     becomes her  tear drops,
                                     roll down and fall
                                     one
                                     by
                                     one.
K Balachandran Dec 2013
Winter, tricky entrapper,
cozy cuddler, night fiddler
nuzzler, tantalizer, whistler
sharp nailed cruel lover
seasonal unfailing seductress,
sprawling on the bed cloth of December,
rolling over a few months either side,
I would never take her for granted.

I see her peep through
the window curtains,
spying at the warm days eyeing me
and waiting for her to climb down the steps;
she is jealous, as she wants to linger
playfully riding on my back.

she seeped in to my blood stream,
like the narcotic effect of grass,
before I  know it happens
little by little to make me
forget my other loves completely
even without my permission.
Her wiliness is stealthily at work,
to monopolize me fully
separating me from others
yes, winter is cleverness clad in white.
Now, I am at her mercy, completely
my fingers, chest and lips strangely
enjoy the cold caresses, she gives each!

I realize, she has taken over-
my body and paints my mind's canvas,
with bubbling hallucinatory white,
she wants others tightly on her leash,
my other loves complain:
"you act just what is her will
you always wear her fragrance,
on you what an influence she wields!"
can I help when winter my darling,
brooks no excuses!

She exposes me before others
I look like a pusillanimous one,
cowering and cringing before her
none, even my true love, has
such absolute control over me
like she exerts, it's a secret
but true that I wriggle to get out,
of this white net she tenderly knitted-
for my comfort, which is,
pleasurable I think, to an extent,
yet difficult to accept at the same time.

Let us part before long, not to make
our relationship much complicated,
I'll wait, till the next season arrives
you are in my list of periodic partners,
I'll be ready with warmth in my heart,
for your eventful visit, that leaves
an impression far too long to ever forget.
1.7k · Sep 2016
An uncertain journey
K Balachandran Sep 2016
I sure miss you here,
(In the hope that
you miss me too)
And if you don't,
I don't know
where this narrow path
through dense woods
will take me at the end.
No way, I could go back
to the begining when
my hope is there in the
journey's end.

Presumptions, we think
would have no thorns to fear,
but cause  vein jumps
again and again that may prove
the grapes were sore after all.

Every wish prompting one
to hit the road, often with
no rhyme or reason, would
have underlying conditions,
though unseen from where one starts.
Why, are we afraid to speak openly
how the journey would end
even when we set out so excited?

On your wall beyond the reach
of  my eager eyes are sketches
still incomplete;
that may break or make me.
And what it does to you then
is an idea vague in my imagination.
1.7k · Jan 2016
Under the blanket of fog
K Balachandran Jan 2016
The world as we know it
doesn't exist, from an evening days ago,
unruly fog with the menacing arrogance
of a killer whale, skimming
in the shallow waters near the shore,
has made the world vanish
without any trace, how long it would last,
no one could hazard a guess, till now!
"Is it the end of the world?"
within closed doors people wonder.
1 But no 'bang' of any kind was heard
did anyone hear any suspicious 'whimper',
the weather women with a broad smile
and reassuring voice  fails to tell us.

In this stormy night of primeval elements,
what exists for us is a continent of fear.
Shiver touching the highest recorded mark
in the Richter scale of fear, staring at a
dark night , bundled in white blanket,
all thing moving and static are kept  frozen.
Blizzard, a drunken madman keeps on
inventing a cuss word different, a minute
hissing it in varying tunes and modulations.

I hear no drone of airplanes flying low
to take the landing approach
in the airport nearby, anymore
everything except the storm and snowfall
has come to a standstill,what the morning
will bring, who could tell?
Every heart will be heavy tonight,
if only 2 Stephen Hawking will lift
his cell phone for a minute,
this is the time to ask in hush hush tone:
"Does such unprecedented signals
points that God would play dice
negating the prophecy Einstein made"
1.This the the way the world ends/Not with a bang, but with a whimper(T.S.Eliot)
2."God doesn't play dice" said Einstein, meaning there is an innate order in universe.Stephen Hawking corrected Einstein"Not only God definitely play dice but He sometimes confuses us by throwing them
where they can't be seen", meaning future could be random and unpredictable.
K Balachandran May 2014
An acrobat of love is she,
who contorts,  sensing
which way he loves to move,
constantly making spirited coos.
In all aspects of love, lots of times this is what happens
K Balachandran Jan 2013
You kiss like an angel, but don't pretend,
                                       ever you are one,
(never mind, I've never met one before)
your lips taste, manna, exact,
(the elixir's taste  my mind had to invent)
When  your lips touch mine,
I taste thunder in my nerves,
(your eyes bid  me to do it,
though I didn't know what awaited)
I never thought a girl so docile and quiet,
could play tricks,with luscious lips and tongue.
                                        
The marksmanship you display in that,
would never be learned from any school of love.
You are a wonder, love  has exclusively sculptured,
to propagate its creed, aren't you a whirlwind?
1.7k · Jan 2019
An uncommon affair
K Balachandran Jan 2019
On elephant’s back,
Mahout tenuously perched,
Swoons over moon!
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Flickering candle light, braving wanton winds,
adds an unexpected melancholic twist;
a losing battle against formidable odds ends.
Though meant to make us feel romantic
even at the worst imaginable end chapter of it,
a doomed love that made moon beams burn,
itself bogged in morass, caused volcanic burst
in callous minds that walk backwards in time
who did everything to stop us dead in our tracks.

I am not blind not to see the quivering,
drops of tear, in your once much adored eyes,
I won't see any more after crossing this point of no return.

Doesn't this look like the perfect **** they had,
a story, in the middle brought to a deliberate end;
we can't stop it anyway, except acting out our parts
that we didn't see us doing  til this moment.

All we could do is this, give a loving burial
to this doomed love, let romance be the theme ,
in candle light we'll quietly cremate it, may the  remains of it,
ashes wind scatter,be the salt of the earth, for ever.
1.7k · Mar 2013
A stone garden beyond time.
K Balachandran Mar 2013
Huge boulders, blocks of rocks,
shapes of prehistoric memories,
strewn all along the hillside,
merging with the meditation of green,
arranged in mysterious patterns,
evoke the presence of timelessness.
Like a  hidden message for extraterrestrials,
the rock garden beyond time stands,
against the backdrop of a hill,
an ascetic in its disposition.
A Jain* temple observes complete silence,
on the bank of the vast pool of tranquility.
*An Indian religion, predating Buddhism, prescribing a path of non violence to self realization .Observance of silence and periodic fasting are given much importance, as effective means to control mind.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Sky is a taut, grey net spread,
at its  best in creating panic,
relentless day a brutish marauder,
drained of color of every kind, bleak,
even thought of you distant, my nectar
plays hide and seek, I am plunging
in a hallucinatory spin, down, down.

From inside a furnace closed
with a tight lid under which heat
in it's fiery glory permeates
like never before, a full- throated roar,
without any sound it travels around,
in waves after waves after waves,
to scorch every single thing under
the blood thirsty sun, on a hurried
march for revenge,green turbaned
trees and scarf adorned branches
changed all those embellishments
gone bone dry,now stand apologetic
like kids that made bed wet and caught
red handed, shrunk in shame and pain.

Narcolepsy reigns, drowsiness
day and night, like marijuana haze
follows.
            This summer makes its name stick
in bad books,making T.S.Eliot look
shame faced for calling one past tame April,
uncharitably the cruelest of it all.
But this, this is an unbridled wild horse
none can in no way do anything to stop.

When even the last drop of water from
the pond evaporates,sunburn peels the skin,
sun stroke down people, who are unaware,
cruelty of April, becomes monumental.

Perhaps in few days time May could barter
that bad name from April,I'd easily guess.

Buildings , in rows and rows lie, til horizon,
like blood drained corpses all though the day,
the  appetite for life, they evidently has lost.
Song birds on flowered trees, have gone mute,
doves scamper, dart in to the air, with hope
to get few drops of water  from somewhere

Kindhearted few fill water and feed on containers
for stray birds,taking cue from the practices of forefathers.
Change in climate is an ogre, that could with bare hands
smash pompous attitudes  and other human constructs!

Will there ever be a limit, to the red eyed monster,
avarice, we all pamper, within our inner courtyards,
that forces human beings to to do "Harakiri"
like a proud Samurai does with his own sword.
Harakiri-Ritualistic honor suicide by the Japanese "Samurai"
warriors who  value honor above any thing
1.6k · Dec 2013
The wandering monk's tales
K Balachandran Dec 2013
This miraculous journey we call life,
has many strands braided together,
never forget what is expected from
the travelling monk, walking in front,
who'll break his walk to play with
stray street pups, eat, drink and sup
with men and women, of many temperaments,
who'd invite him to sit with them, even not knowing
who he is, or what mission moves him
through these dusty roads. There is something
that makes everyone not take eyes off him,
they'd say that, when he goes back on his way.
On the waves of emotions, he partake, he moves
like a paper boat navigated,  by the speed
it all create, yet unaffected, except the empathy he keeps in his heart.

Hearing  stories of this pilgrim  in rapt attention
creating worlds fantastic inside,
learning  things one never imagined before,
he travels with the wandering monk in sight.
What is more wondrous, once he thought
than  seeing one's starry eyed lover's excitement,
showing a jewel she picked
from the riverbed of her short life
in a blessed moment.
She put it adoringly in to his mind,
a gleaming ornament that'd adorn him
though time would change that too.

Every thing experienced in this journey
makes one, the words of the monk prompt to act
and see the aftermath, take in the taste,
be it sweet or bitter or both,
odors and smells, the feel of things
a complex web, the map of inner life.

Never should one fail, to lend ears
to the tales of wandering monk
he is wisdom's child, patience solidified,
every tale has its color, smell and texture,
nature spoke, he experienced,
ages in muted tones speak
to him in the voice of the  wandering monk
1.6k · Sep 2013
Sun Dance
K Balachandran Sep 2013
The break of dawn-
I stand near
the  river flowing
like life,
open my eyes wide
and gaze
the purple sun,
starting to
climb up the sky.
Water in my cupped
joined palms
offered to the sun
slowly gets heated,
warmth permeates to my body.
In to my inner ear
sun whispers
his music of colors;
a profusion
beyond words,
that creates
in my inside world,
never ending
fields of sunflowers,
that in joy, dance.
Thoughts that has
roots in light,
emerge from
deep down in mind,
on day and night.
Sun gazing originated in ancient times  continues to be a daily ritual in India, though number of people following it  is far  less now.Modern scientific studies prove that early morning sun'e rays charge the brain and enhance brain activity.
K Balachandran Feb 2014
The sky, is a wide blue eye,
the sea, a huge drop of tear-
rolled down from it.
You and I, now two parts of the whole,
are clad in transience,
be aware.
We watch this cosmic maiden's
many moods and cherubic sleep
till she wakes up, when our dream
would dissolve, in to a long, long sleep.
Edited      Just imagine the cosmic time scale
1.6k · Oct 2012
Enigma
K Balachandran Oct 2012
Every time
I start anew,
or decide
to leave,
without fail I arrive
at a new beginning.
                           Every start
                           is an end-
                           of something.
                          Each arrival,
                          culminates in a departure,
                                                 fallen in to  the cycle of
                                                 'samsara'
                                                 vagrant mind, plays
                                                creates illusions;
                                                ends and beginnings.
When the karma wheel completes its circles,
without thinking, consciousness merges with 
 the ocean of                                                       eternal being
arrivals and departures mean nothing,
If  
consciousness  is still and unmoving,  in the point between
birth                                       and                                       death.
1.6k · Sep 2013
In the Night and After
K Balachandran Sep 2013
A dark, sensuous, blithe, night
seduction is her sole intent,
beating in tune with the heart of
a lover, an adventurer, a crazy poet,
a beggar, a courtesan, a clown or a priest,
     prompts each one to do what to them please,
     to the manner born, unconcerned  of darkness and light,
     her knitted quilt thrown over their heartbeats rhythmic.
Sleep is the best refuge  for the uninspired, lonely, sick,
love, ***, any number of intriguing options she offers for her lovers,
and when the clock of night is torn open by the impatient sun
and day arrives with vengeance to reclaim its land,
with daggers of  sadness stuck to heart, bleeding
they move, like shadows doddering in the path of life.
1.6k · Apr 2016
Unknowable
K Balachandran Apr 2016
"Sky!"
"Why?"
    #
Human brain, intellect, knowledge, wisdom, logic etc has limits.
Transcendence is a  channel available to experience the incognizable.
1.6k · Feb 2014
When her love rains
K Balachandran Feb 2014
A dew drenched wild flower
awaiting sun's warmth,
you are naked Venus;
        I clothe you with
transparent cumulus
spun by sparkling-
caresses with my eyes.

As we explore gently first
and then in urgent moves
the ****** alchemy of lips,
you transform in to a nimbus,
heavy with a yen to rain-
your sultry lust over mine.
Wet and swollen we stand
exhilarated to the inner core,
lit with sensual pleasure
on the threshold of losing control.

Then, like in a dream,
a nimbus sweetness envelops me,
lying supine, on a bed of goosebumps.
I receive you and the storm
that lasts till we fall asleep.
K Balachandran Jan 2017
One tiny fiery ant
with a tiny wand,
deftly conducted
a grand orchestra of
ants with varied talents,
resulting in a musical storm,
unheard of in the
craggy ant world before.

The ants with diaphanous wings
smug, complacent dandies
that counted themselves
nothing less than regal
buzzing above unaware
of  this magic electrifying
the land of ordinary ants below,
but had a hunch somehow
wondered:
"Are we missing out
on some fine thing
ants like us should aspire for
or is it just a feeling
without any basis?"
K Balachandran Jan 2014
Will, makes the body a fiddle, every string vibrates with music,
life continues to be a bacchanalia, for long, from teens to midlife,
the weakening of pleasure seeking streak, brings spirit
to the center of thought, meditativeness brings connect
with the all pervading spirit, then poetry of the universe seep in
ecstatic moments of body, mind and soul, one is convinced,
are soaked in poetic cadence, oozing from the divine spring within.
K Balachandran Feb 2013
The wandering minstrel,
sung a song that kept hidden,
deep in his lonely heart,
it touched the dancing girl so much,
she sprang up on her feet unprompted,
and danced the way the song spoke to her.

Oh! it was marvelous and she was swift
like a lightening during monsoon,
there was a subtle absence that heightened her presence,
her admirers, a whole lot, was caught by surprise,
strangely, they got agitated,
as her move was unexpected,
that stirred a hornet's nest
which, then  led to a melee of sorts,
every one was running helter- skelter,
while the whirlwind swirled around,
the girl still danced like possessed.

Only now they saw the Dervish,
with long white hair and flowing dress,
while he gently circled, his aura bright
created a dazzling circle of light.
It became difficult to see what happens,
to most, without the inner light.

**To the few with opened inner eyes
it was revealed at once thus:
the swirling dervish, the ecstatic dancer
and the wandering minstrel lost in  his song
went beyond,
became one in spirit.
1.6k · Feb 2013
Deceitful night
K Balachandran Feb 2013
Night was ruled
by deceit, every moment,
deepening shadows moved
with poisionous intentions,
knives of sharp lights
they hid behind their back.

An  authoritarian owl,
angrily kept threatening its opponents,
by repeatedly stabbing
the silence of the night,
with his shocking  hoots.

When the cadaverous moon
slyly came out of cloud thickets,
trotting foxes hiding
behind gravestones,
made intermittent eerie howls,
lacerating the dark muteness.

A mighty night bird,
off and on, drew its shadow,
across the moon's surface,
but never felt satisfied

The barking dogs
all at once stopped,
and created panic.
Like death knell,
wind made noises,
on the foliage of trees.

A dejected lover,
wrote a melancholy note,
spilling out sad thoughts,
in the faint light
of a dying oil lamp.

An adulterous woman,
impatiently waited
near her half opened window,
looking out for
her midnight paramour,
who never keeps time as promised.

The night stood still,
spreading its serpent hood,
listening to million secret sounds
watching everything,
without batting an eyelid.
1.6k · Feb 2013
Creepers on a wall
K Balachandran Feb 2013
Creepers, snaking in a frenzy
go up on the red  brick wall,
crowded and so full,
an organization, amazing
of its own, how thrilling
to watch them create
the rhythm of life!
Its a weave, so thick
braided together
in so many ways,
my eyes, like honey drunk bees,
refuse to come back,
the flowers, the whole lot
are charming and with full of nectar.
What a fragrance,it spreads,
never experienced this before,
I get a feeling of hovering high
in the air,
**these creepers have a secret code,
to transport me to another world,
up one goes on the wings of that fragrance,
never wants to come back.
K Balachandran Apr 2012
You've gone at the break of dawn,**
like a nymph, an apparition from a dream,
dissolves at first light,
the lingerie you left behind,
forgot to take, in your hurry,
bears your sensuous memory;
only touch of reality in the whole affair.
It tacitly tells,  how it remembers
all that transpired between us,
all through last night,
by fluttering  wildly
in the hands of  titillating breeze,
to catch my drooping eyes.
K Balachandran Jun 2012
Yes, she stole my thoughts*

devoured, digested and made her own
in the shortest possible time one could imagine,
made her imprint to make it a through job.
all between a stuporous sleep of my unmaking
after that frenzied mating instigated by
her  cheating instinct at its acme.

she did it quietly in the dim light
of the zero watt bulb,
after we slept together
for the first time;
it was eerie
my romanticized thoughts
were the first to
get drawn out,
a tree full of wild red blossoms,
the name of which slipped
from memory to oblivion,
migratory birds of different feathers
sitting on that tree chirping in love's sweet passion.

i woke up
when the thoughts circling
like blood in my veins were touched,
she was there prowling
with the look of a witch,
a happy one at that
how victorious she looked!
my angst has no place in her scheme of things
after that, she coughed and spat
and pretended ,IPR never was violated
When you get bitten by the
serpent called  lust,
and two ***** conjoin,
thoughts go down and hide,
one become unreasonable
and glide through moonlit sky,
stars wink, thoughts wink back,
and the stupor takes over.

yes, she stole my thoughts
how could one complain?
You need to be one or the other at a time.
Unending disputes about violation of  intellectual property rights get one confused beyond the limits of reason, girlfriends too will have to bear the brunt, i am sure. IPR demons may be  prowling within homes .
1.6k · Jan 2014
Eyes
K Balachandran Jan 2014
Her eyes
an enchanting pair,
alive and mobile,
gazing in to them,
in the beginning
of a journey
and at its end,
he finds himself reflected
just perfectly.
At times, he sees those eyes
brimming with tears
mysterious in origin,
(reminding nature)
Wet, flowing eyes
prompt him to introspect,
help him keep
his balance;
the hot spring
in those  pools
quickly melts his-
rock hard arrogance,
makes him eschew
his macho male pose,
through rituals of such kind
reiterating love beyond words,
he is rechristened,
now, passionate lover,
inveterate protector,
an equal half ever.

He quickly gets elated
by the silver strands of light
emanating from the depth
of those kohl lined eyes
that tie him with easy love knots,
quiet eloquent eyes
reminds him the moments
never he would forget
with his mother as a child,
and all other women
who never failed to shower
love on him as he swam
in the pool of their adoring eyes.
Even now he is thrilled
by numerous memories
that still are prefulgent,
an oil lamp with thousand lighted wicks
he has seen in childhood
burning in the shrine of his family;
now that flame
sparkles in her eyes.
1.6k · Apr 2017
The wheel chair
K Balachandran Apr 2017
1.This wheelchair never was a River,
even when powered, it did splutter
yes, it's equivalent in movements,
listening silently it always sits out,
away from the flow to the ecstatic sea.
A wheel chair is a caricature of loneliness.

2.Ever tried to see it for what it really is?
"We don't remember, doesn't catches the eye"
Not like a chair of any other kind easily does,
A chair regal looks up, straight at the face
in the manner it demands what it wants,
"Let me tell you this, listen or leave"

3.A wheel chair keeps on looking at it's
arrested feet apologetically and sighs,
if you have an inner ear sensitive, hear this,
I am not even a chair, an apology
for movement,spoken in a voice stiffed.
It speaks incessantly, in a voice within itself,
wordless to a world, that has closed it's doors.

4.A wheelchair easily forgets things as
it can't keep bitterness alive always.
who cares to speak a few words to a wheelchair?
all it is to be done is push it in silence through aisles .
from a destination of pain to any other, slightly higher.
Stairs of every kind, for a wheelchair is a foreign land.

5.Yet in impeded wheelchairs moves many a dream,
broken before their time or crusted with force.
Or remains of a day, too long and  busily spent.
On every wheelchair a heart adamantly beats,
"I would, I would" it beats with a rare grit.
Dedicated to all differently abled people whose dream each one of us has to help fulfill..
1.6k · Apr 2017
To bee or not to bee-Haiku
K Balachandran Apr 2017
bee pecks on bloom's lips
acting coy, she turns away,
slyly eyes him once.
1.6k · Sep 2012
Sit Quiet
K Balachandran Sep 2012
In deep layers of silence
I used to hear music,
without words or instruments
it did flow,
the birds used tell me-
secrets of listening to nature.
Parakeets spoke in resonances of green
crows and egrets
complemented again and again,
the music, I thought, was a divine hallucination,
but now
it all turns upside down,
You, complain
you keep on hearing someone crying,
from within.
I see eyes welling up,
which are those memories
that blow up, surge out?

Shh..keep quiet for a moment,
a commotion is getting nearer and nearer,
the ice caps are melting,
but who cares,
the crowd has no mind,
they are braying for blood,
Whose blood?
their own, but can the blind distinguish?
*"come, this is my blood, drink it,
cut this bread in to pieces,
eat it, be satisfied.."
K Balachandran Dec 2011
being giant squid--
not my agenda;
their mating is hell.
because giant squid can't see very well at the dark depth, when the males try to mate, they try to have *** with everything around.
1.6k · Dec 2014
Animal kingdom
K Balachandran Dec 2014
Indiscreet Parakeets

Lovesick parakeets,
Eager wicked fornicators,
climaxed with a shriek.


Bat Trick

This bat, wants to act,
Only in a position
Other species find
Hard to imitate.


The Serpent's Last Chance*

Hissed aloud, in vein, none seemed impressed.
Swished around, ****! it's polished marble floor.
Only makes miserable after all the false moves.
No escape route found after so much struggle.
Serpentine arrogance desperately seek a burrow,
Finding the lethal  poison of King cobra useless.
In a situation too slippery to bite or frighten
He could only coil in dejection, pretending dead.
1.6k · Jan 2014
Gifted
K Balachandran Jan 2014
Ugly little pigs,
hooting and howling
they revel in slush
as if there is no bliss like this
and nothing is worth seeking
outside this pit, full of slimy stuff.
How long they entertain him
with their inimitable gift!
Dirt gets a new status, dainty news,
with the cute litter working on it.
What thought passes his mind?
"Fair is foul and foul is fair,
No angel would look as nice
in such a cesspit, holy pig!"
A reformed newshound still am I
1.6k · Apr 2016
Mother night
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Darkness swaddles moonlight,
Bamboo groves sing lullaby,
Love moves the still air.
K Balachandran Jan 2012
any moment, i am open,
letting feminine mystique
work on me;
let me forget the *'frog life'
Remember the fairy tales, in which frog become prince  the moment a beauty's fingers touch
1.6k · Mar 2016
Arabesque
K Balachandran Mar 2016
At it's ecstatic heights,  life is
a splendid display of ballet moves.
I watch you fly high precariously,
stopping a  beat of my enamored heart
with  an astounding move speaking beauty
and dexterously land statuesque,
in a graceful  arabesque stance.
Defying gravity with amazing ease
you create beauty none ever dreamed,
so kaleidoscopic, appreciating it means
touching the eternal with one's being
in a fleeting moment, get transported.
For that, one needs a mind as sharp as
razor's edge and constantly pirouetting
360 degrees embracing  you at the
speed of light, before you turn to a
lightening flash,of different wavelength,
all over again and begin the next cycle.
Arabesque is a ballet position, in which the dancer stands on one leg(the supporting leg) with the other leg(working leg)turned out and extended behind the body, with both legs held stright
K Balachandran Sep 2015
A  deep rumbling,reverberates
triggering a yearning for fusion
from the limitless inner sky.
A flash of lightening touches
heaven , earth and roots of being,
starting a chemical change,
in a moment of divine communion.
From the mere carbon, just the mundane
a diamond is born, in the womb of time,
don't let it fall off from the layers of passion.
hold it together in cupped hands
carry on all through the journey, til end.
I didn't know then,
a pearl falls out, when it gets
ripe within the oyster
can't remain hidden.
Your eyes told me without words
about the essence of that immortal moment
I touched your burning brows
and got electrified, glowed
with my touch you floated
as a flower in that scented air
I felt a peacock feather dipped
in your love, caressing my burning heart.
1.6k · Apr 2019
sky table is set
K Balachandran Apr 2019
sky dining table.
much loaves of bread, butter heaps;
windswept the leftover.
1.6k · Oct 2012
Suitable suitor(4x20)
K Balachandran Oct 2012
A wild flower,
two competing humming birds;
*she awaits for
her suitable suitor.
K Balachandran Apr 2014
Turbulence and tranquility,
the waves taught me both,
from seagulls came
silent flights, smooth landing
on moving waves
and cacophonous rage,
dervish dance was the gift
coconut groves granted
during the months of monsoon,
the art of hiding sweetness
within hard shell, too was their lesson,
"Don't exhibit,
let them find out coconut water
if only they deserve" the tall palms
implied while they danced like
feverish, passionate lovers,
hair splayed, rocked by crazy winds.

Your eyes spoke about a kind of
beautiful transience and unaffected calm,
at the end of the quest for the ultimate.

From many we flow towards one,
tranquil, eternal, omniscient.
I pick and choose from various notes
to create a symphony of accord
knowing in my heart that it's what we all share.

Night took me to the heart of deep sleep
and said the specs of light will not perish
"Cherish it to make  days of sun and dance
then come back to the ample ***** of darkness"

Youthful spirit told me about the alchemy of love
between hearts and heart breaks too, that teaches one
that sadness has it's sweetness.

Walls proclaimed all about limits,
also patience and courage to break it,
if one removes stone after stone bearing pain
every wall will eventually fall.
K Balachandran Apr 2012
A lovely brown feathered friend,
in a clearly adventurous mood,
clinging to a low hanging branch-
full of small cream colored flowers,
facing the window of my room,
cocked her head and peeked in,
**as if to ask my lonely heart,
if it was ready,
for a dainty birdsong of love.
1.6k · Jan 2013
Still night, after she left
K Balachandran Jan 2013
Still night, the stars are bright,
but all I see is the darkness,
thundering, like clouds
engulfing my tragic existence.
She  has left me wilting for ever.
I don't even know why,
she never cared to tell.
When I stand here lost,
cold wind with thousand pins,
****** all over my body,
as if to verify, if I am alive;
the night  sighs seeing me
pale and tottering.
Strange,  that pin ******
I don't  even feel,
but the thought, that she
has forgotten me for ever,
forces a dagger across my heart,
she mercilessly discarded.
Still night, it seems mourning
her absence, how could
one  think to  fill
the vacuum even for a moment?
Wasn't she my other half,
the Shakti, the power to
match the Shiva's dance.
Let thousand years pass,
her voice will reverberate
in my lonely soul.
1.6k · May 2013
Three cities in a woman
K Balachandran May 2013
1
Like the  turning sheets
of a monthly calender,
life has layers after layers.

How would he know that ,
just a callow youth on  sea shore
playing with  smooth pebbles,
that was when he saw her first.

She was the woman who
taught him, whole cities lay merged
within a woman, like wave after wave,
of inhabitants over time, leave their
archaeological markers of periods,
she was a mystery like life itself.
There is no way to decipher.


2
They first met
in the city of light,
Diwali lamps were lit
in all courtyards,
It was an immortal moment
in his  life, he realized,
leading him gently to the light
which evaded him though he assiduously sought,
she parted without a word
Did she belong to someone else?
3
The city of sorrow,
yet again brought them  face to face
Ridden with angst of existence
he stumbled, was about to fall, then
he  could experience her iron will
more than a woman, she stood, like a pillar of strength,
she took his weary head in both hands, pressed to her breast,
pulled out the crown of thorns, their paths
diverged again, inexplicably complex, was their relationship.
4
In the city of guilt,
an unexpected meeting again,
they were surprised. Here, they were on their own.
They  wanted to take their lives in their hands,
in spite of the currents that pulled them to different directions.
But he knew all the while that her self, was divided between
three cities within her.They co-existed, Light.Guilt.Sorrow
will their love survive? Not all loves are intended to live long,
a parrot in his tree of loneliness always whispered.He pretended he didn't hear,
A game of dice, almost was their lives, mysterious forces did bet on their love,
Having traveled through fire and water, she was beyond pleasure and pain,
Kali with a fiery nose stud, female power that overcomes all pain,
she became, that shattered his dreams for them.
He was thankful, to be awakened by her,
the light she lit, burned bright, within.


Now or never.He crossed the river.
Deliverance comes from an inner source,
otherwise all will end as an idiot's tale
signifying nothing.
Her flame lighted his wick, liberated him.

5
Fire spitting dragons one can tame,
but in the duel with demons of life,
it could be a blood letting end,
call it play of chance or what ever
they are the  easy game here
He  packed his backpack and
started to move eastwards,
Westward bound was she, invariably,
her heart had still a song left for him,
the void was filled, the pain was stilled
with anesthetics of mind.
Just for one last time they went to the beach,
watching the sunset was their good bye to each other.
They never met again.
1.6k · Feb 2016
Unique
K Balachandran Feb 2016
Day and night are  just opposites,
yet complementary ad infinitum,
sans any trace of discord, perfectly fit;
everything one comes across in life
is uniquely meaningful, let's not forget.
1.6k · Mar 2019
Peak summer
K Balachandran Mar 2019
a sultry day ends,
hot, swift wind moves the tired leaves;
early moon looks on!
1.6k · Mar 2017
Bribe me with your eyes
K Balachandran Mar 2017
You fond it fit to complain that I am corrupt,
I don't take in to love's current account
your ill formed kisses hurriedly planted
on me,cheating prying eyes all round.

I am meticulous in my account of love, sugar,
look for perfection as much as the talent,
if you want me to sway your side, try this
bribe me with an ****** batting of an eyeleash
1.6k · Nov 2013
The street of deserted love
K Balachandran Nov 2013
As if in a dream, he passes through that street
his days of youth walked most, bitten by the  lovebug;
a dear face of the past, from an open window of mind, peers,
those  tear filled eyes, still ask "Tell me why, oh! why?"
1.6k · Oct 2013
Fellow travelers
K Balachandran Oct 2013
The sun, slanting westwards
chases me with competitive spirit;
speeding through, interstate highway
from Hyderabad to Bangalore,
long stretches I see, are waterless seabeds
reminds the oceanic origin of all
sense of time vanishes, I am an unknown
creature of the sea, an explorer of underwater geology.
                                    Like life, it's a winding long drive
             lonely too,  like one often finds, oneself in spite of many loves,
just incessant voices that soon lose meaning.
Speaking to myself, quietly, alone
I realize this, calmly, in life-
one is alone in many ways .
How curious,
the sun, my co-traveller,
caught sight of me,
and graciously gives me
a smile of recognition,
still continues the chase playfully,
from my right,
I like his verve
he too finds fun in our run.
He becomes red all over,
decides to set in the west
he signals,
above Nandi Hills
his spectacular farewell show
makes me slow down and watch.
At the height of the display, he vanishes
like a magician, taking every drop of light with him,
leaving me to find my way
through darkness, that I have to dispel myself.
K Balachandran Mar 2013
The kaleidoscopic view one perceives,
the material world (and its proclivities)
is the architecture of five senses,
along with the juggler, cognitive mind.

Beyond the shores of the river,
frothing, foaming, flowing mind,
sits the tiger, eyes glowing,
infinite, cosmic consciousness,
ready to eat every illusory construct,
liberate, self and proclaim
"There are no two, everything in cosmos is one"

The benevolent tiger watches the space,
we think real,
                       its eyes unblinking, waiting,
for the igneous moment of merging
sitting beyond the other shore of mind,
it wordlessly assert,"Time is imagined"

Enlightenment, the door to
transcendence  opens
only beyond the realm of time

When the tiger leaps across
and makes its ****,
the door to eternal light is opened,

The tiger is deaf to pleas and demands,
this hunter hunts preys of his choice,
at that moment of alchemy,
the tiger will appear from nowhere,
as savior, obliterator of illusions.
He enters through the door,
of silver morning light.
1.6k · Nov 2014
On the swing
K Balachandran Nov 2014
Airborne still, this moment aloft is simply magical
in perpetual motion from a moment in the past
when I start to swing, it's a journey, back and forth
to a past  which,I can only visit hovering above
and a future , just an apparition, vague in the horizon,
can't be certain what it would bring, unless I would
make it happen wishing deep inspired by  my vision ,
gathered from my experiences in the swing flying.

Time, lends me the wings that fly me, this vision is all
I have to rely on, to make things happen before
the swing finally slows down before the setting sun.
ജീവിതം എന്ന ഊഞ്ഞാലിൽ
K Balachandran Aug 2012
Are you, this body
         of five elements?
Are you the mind,
       five senses weaved?

Or are you one with
                    the one beyond?
the , eternal, infinite -
                   consciousness?


        Why keep me
at arm's length?
            Don't you know,
   like you,"I am that",

  There aren't two
           but just the one!
Don't be duped by
           this illusory construct!

When time gets ripe,
      cosmic wish, its dice casts,
              the game changes
comes  the big crunch!

           between 'big bang
and the final crunch'
                you fight your wars,
    momentary, who wins?

the play continues
           in cosmic time schedule,
  even Einstin couldn't-
                envisage the game as a whole!
"I am that"-("Tat twam asi" in Sanskrit) a "Mahavakya"( grand truth regarding the absolute )
which cryptically says the consciousness within each and the cosmic consciousness are not two, but one.
K Balachandran Nov 2015
A yellowing leaf,
Meditating on
never ending "AUM",
the boom created by
mountain winds
incessantly blow,
happily hallucinates
a world altogether new
somewhere, not ever known.
Persuasions of a breeze,
with the caressing words of a Guru
makes it gently let go the branch
and bravely claim freedom
from the grief bequeathed for life,
a pain, constant reminder
of transience of life--
From the low hanging branch
of a fig tree on a wintry hill,
the leaf somersaults to a valley below
painted in psychedelic colors,
a territory unknown
It's
falling
           falling  
                       falling
                                  to
                                   what it thought
                                   a
                                  sea
                          ­         of
                              o b l i v i o n
                                  But
in amazement find, the sea is all-knowing
  absolute--------consciousness------------bliss
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