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K Balachandran May 2014
A castaway in the island of failed loves, my heart
moved in jungle pathways, lived alone in caves,
I sold it to a courtesan who courted it steadfast
never had I felt such an ease in my days dark.
Love is a clandestine merchandise in market places
by lovers, men and women of charm and magic
mixing power and allure, when the price is just right.

The street of our evenings was full of laughter,
my love life there saw many sunny seasons.
We walked hand in hand and my sweetheart was eager
to please me as my heart was full of  love's languor
the meaning of love was still obscure for me and her,
though we thought it was nothing but love, that
kept throbbing in our every vein, it really mattered.

To the tune of Blue Danube, we would wildly waltz,
the sad thought it brought, made me weep inside.
if the world is so wicked let's die together,
and I see her dance away totally inebriated
footsteps sounded near, we lost  true interest
pain was chasing us, all the way from behind,
we were disillusioned, love slowly got drifted
gently  dissipated breaking our hearts.

As I cross the corner of the street alone,
with my heart bleeding, often the girl for the day in tow,
I feel the pang of a heart, seeking my love waiting
the courtesan who kept watching me, her glassy eyes moist,
all these days of wandering, eventually our eyes met.

I sold my heart to the lonely courtesan, she wept, received it.
K Balachandran Jan 2012
night has been kind to crows,
i am glad, but the crows
somehow think,
i hate night.
K Balachandran Dec 2011
i could't, let me confess
understand an orange.
has any orange ever
understood me?
K Balachandran Aug 2017
In many different tongues, each one love's manifestations,
Some even to me unknown until the very moment,expressed,
I keep talking to you, my divine lover,out of my passion,intense
For you brimming within. Distraught a bit, feeling left in the lurch
On pouring rain and thunder storm; but you know how firm I am!
I stood rooted here, lost all sense of time, queer, ever  felt you near.
Then a sharp pain hit weakening my heart ,but couldn't deter me,
I am a cat of nine love lives, a species so stubborn, thrives in trust.
Dead of night it is , I  keep vigil, perking up ears, eyeing  skywards,
How do I know from, where would my only love, to me speak?
K Balachandran Aug 2012
I know why, the butterfly-
is so happy and resplendent,
though, poor thing,  has transient life,
which the world thinks is tragic.
**Fully drenched, in the light of the moment,
it is oblivious of a  tomorrow
and hence  has no regrets.
K Balachandran Dec 2011
enamored by
princess happiness,
i got in to the fairy tale
living happily ever after.
K Balachandran Aug 2012
I'll charge you with theft,
there is enough evidence;
never thought I'd fall for you,
you stole my heart, merciless!
K Balachandran Sep 2015
To ogle you
every time
I have to find
an excuse
     new.
Lucky you!
you have
a legitimate excuse
each time.
Even the most
clandestine moves
my eyes deftly make,
wouldn't miss,
your notice.
In a swift move
you bind them
with yours
while they
illegally steal you
inch by inch,
head to toe.
Then,I witness
the magic,
only love could
perform;
with the
language of light
in which
your eyes are adept,
you demand me to acquire
legality, in a date, not too late.
K Balachandran Jan 2012
you are an exotic tree
with aromatic leaves,
i would never be out,
of your ardent embrace.
K Balachandran Dec 2012
Soft white light,
gently makes love
          to your supine naked body,
                               *you sleep oblivious.
K Balachandran Aug 2013
A sad stopwatch in silence,
regrets fragmenting time,
nonexistent, unstoppable.
K Balachandran Mar 2017
What is displayed as  reality, imagination or illusion
are stitched together cutting out from the same fabric;
how to make her aware all this is a  seamless shadow play !
She wants him to remember in vivid details, always
'a time that never ever was', but she brought alive breathing life
from bits and pieces she gathers from all three realms at will!

She isn't aware we are trapped for ever in an illusory moment
not there,vanished and gone already leaving behind a ghost
a past without a trace, trapped in the chamber of altered memories,
that hunts the  present, already  changed residence to the past!
K Balachandran Mar 2016
He is an underwater being,
who left behind a life in a lovely land,
adapted to the demands of marine myths,
still an alien, largely frowned up on,
enamored by the coral reef rendezvous
they first met and hopelessly
fell in love.
                    She is a cursed mermaid,
that wants him to teach her only this
as a love gift; flawless  moon walk
through the night sky of ocean depth.
K Balachandran Nov 2018
Billions of light years,
In night’s fantasy converge;
Cosmic illusion!
K Balachandran Aug 2015
Lone duck, bitten by an insane urge, turns and turns,
endlessly on water plane, creates a churn, a pattern on water,
as if to meet itself in a moment of stillness in between,
when will it happen? His life passes as that illusion still lasts.
K Balachandran Jul 2012
Reality has just two eyes,
imagination has thousands;
a night sky full of winking stars,
orchestrating a hyper reality!
K Balachandran Jul 2014
On a stage well lit by an array of lights, the lovers
stand mumbling sweet nothings from the script,
but, remember this is the depiction of only that time of the day,
night is a scene  different, unscripted, the time to face the music.
K Balachandran Oct 2012
Butterfly caught in a fine web, fell in love with a beam of light,
only to make the reluctant dark night jealous,
streaming light couldn't even sense her presence,
*she was a recalcitrant dance, at once gorgeous and fierce,
K Balachandran Apr 2014
Sun sets with regret.
Darkness of night
fails to appear.
God play dice, says Stephen Hawking
Nothing is permanent in universe.
Game may change any moment
Imagine what if...
Are we living our life, responsible to cosmos?
K Balachandran Nov 2014
You are the book written by the mystic eternal,
in sub atomic particles of each and everything
after transcending the limits of time,
on the wings of the thought in the primordial core,
that witnessed the seeds being sowed in the beginning.

I am entrenched in the inner urge of the spread of everything,
the surge of cosmic mind, all the five elements
the Brahman, most sublime, omnipresent,
at once, inert and omnipotent, a feat one of a kind
the waves of music, the subtle "ÄUM" containing all,
even when the symphony begins, and climbs to the crescendo
when self and the Master, my cosmic significant other,
merge in YOGA, the ocean, the confluence of consciousness.
K Balachandran Mar 2015
at the end of a relentless enquiry
she was found sleeping in a cemetery;
as love prompted,from the dna of memories,
he resurrected the lost love in his poetry.
K Balachandran Apr 2015
Morning light, without fail tells me something new, about you!
Each day adds some more in my story book about your love,
Some little thing, makes me think about invisible you each moment.
What do I do other than being possessed by you, in spirit, body and mind.
Ever  imagined a love in which body would never figure
yet the ecstasy is beyond anything one can compare,
one reaches there  only lifted by the wings of meditation..
K Balachandran Oct 2011
She said:
"We were warriors
and lovers.
I killed him
with my love
sharp and shining,
he fell dead
like a plucked  sakura blossom
peacefully smiling
surrendering
to  my love.
I am a killer,
and he is the victim
in the eyes of the
law of the world!
Don't you see
we made our love
immortal for all times to come
defying death?
For your eyes he is dead,
but look! he will never die.
He is a legend
I am indeed dead
for the sake of my love
by  remaining  alive
killing him.
We were comrades in arms
who vanquished death
by our sacrifice,
for raising the banner
of love higher than ever
challenging death"
K Balachandran Apr 2014
Mackerel, they want to  be
both unanimously agreed;
but why is she stuck still
under the hide of a whale?
imperfect imagination is the reason for all disconnect
why refuse to bark, after donning the costume of the dog?
it's all a play, after all one should realize, lasting till the curtain falls
"All the world is a stage" The world observes 450th birth anniversary of
Shakespeare on April 23.
K Balachandran Aug 2012
Sad day, dreams his night,
                           daydreams wistful, drain in to her.
           forlorn  night, longing blindly for light,
                            is  not allowed to express her wish aloud,
                she is forbidden from daydreaming
                                                for ever, by mother  nature.
K Balachandran Nov 2011
night,
lights out,
wonder--
how they
make love
silently.
K Balachandran Dec 2012
Every time she rocked the boat,
              he was firm like a rock,
                       then, what left to do was
                                        gently rocking  her to sleep.
K Balachandran Jun 2015
A long forgotten art,  needed to reinvent it from the days past,
making a clay ***, the size of my heart, where everything started,
with my bare hands; I felt like a man in the primeval times.
The act but brought a sense of satisfaction, it seemed like a ritual
with therapeutic effects,but couldn't delineate what it was.
Was the red clay *** in my hand, a yearning, in symbolic form?

Was I trying to capture the elusive meaning of  life, in a way wrong?
life throws questions after questions at one, not wanting any answers!
And then one stumbles upon symbols, morphed in the depth of emotions,
with these forms, answering to the enigmas of life is done with ease.

A vessel perfect, it seemed to collect one's tears,wasting not even a drop
on the pool of tears, reflects my face, than any of the surfaces  before,
why then, her face too floats along with mine,  out of nowhere?
a nowhere called past,which never goes anywhere, even if charms are tried.
K Balachandran Oct 2013
The day they operated on his brain
he imagined it as his day of poetry
freedom from the pain of living,
and heard a train reciting a long poem
on love, nightmares and death
by a Chilean poet he adored,
whose name he tried to recollect, over and over again
but his train of thoughts curiously missed
that one station in each, separate attempt.
.
Did he hear anyone whispering anything about 'bad omen'?
reminding a poet killed by a dose of poison
injected by the  doctor treating him
to end the emotional ******* of
his poetry over the mind of millions
of readers
                 - and then he slowly lost orientation
in delirious state he fell in to a pit of delight and thought
about the white luminant mist  poetry, has created in his being,
all through the days of suffering love gifted him.
He received poetry as a feeling, deep, deep inside,
Emily Dickinson was to him a fragrance enveloping his consciousness,
then a feeling inexpressible, an elation, leading him to a plane higher.
His brain was a night filled tunnel, through which
the train reciting dark poems of stark beauty of death
traveled like lightening, he sat perplexed looking
at a mirror someone held before him, reflecting darkness, an eerie feeling.

That night train wailing as if  someone dear has left for ever
traveled through the surreal plane of Dali paintings.
"Life", a unfamiliar voice proclaimed aloud near him,
"Is poetry written in one's blood, which one fails
to read as it is dangerously close to one's suicide note,
that one finishes reading  only at the last minute".He hoped
they must have finished his surgery by now;
it was getting dark, a kind of mist spreading like a swarm of evil beetles,
but they were still at it, panic reigned
on  the operation table. His face was peaceful
immobile like the wings of a dead butterfly.
K Balachandran Apr 2017
Under the enigmatically colored sky, I did wait,
in the place where you were  expected
days, nights, weeks and months passed by,
years added their handiwork on my body,
but my spirit, refused to fail, kept awake

I traveled through the freeways of the sky,
learning the art of flight, all by myself,
asked the birds repeatedly about you
except the time they sang how you inspire
but they remained mute to my questions
                                      "Fly towards east
where light is" I heard a wise one say
I found light at the dawn and struggled
to keep it alive at night, only thinking
about you,I needed the heat to survive.

In the blue watery depth of the sea,
I dived, heard the music of silence.
It was your paens silence kept on singing,
Through the fertile planes i walked,
saw the corn speak of plenty.
you bestow on us, the peace it brings.
I wandered through the mountains and hills,
the grass was green and flowers on the vines,
had fragrance that reminded me your presence,
ripened fruits hanging on trees spoke
on the sweet love we shared.
Though you were away from me
and i wandered with a heart full of questions.

A song bird on the tree of wish sang,
it was all about your love for me, I was amazed,
my weary head paused and felt peace at last,
I fell in love as the hands of mountain wind caressed.
In my dream you came and sat near.
I was transformed, did I wake up from that ecstasy
or am I still asleep,I and  you are no different.
K Balachandran Sep 2012
In the day spa pool
                     a ******* girl,
              floats half submerged;
two placid white lotus buds,
identical twins,
     cheerily face upwards,
   gleaming, wet.
K Balachandran Oct 2017
As if one  moving with an intent,
the flock of birds,of same feather,
with out any flight plan whatsoever,
or navigational chart,all approved,
change formations in lightning speed,
in to shapes none can ever imagine,
breathtaking to view, different each minute,
they do this in mid flight, reminding the quicksilver
dynamics of ocean waves,each minute day and night.
K Balachandran Mar 2016
The  ghost town yellow evening, I did wake up
in a dream, was strangely familiar, painted by him,
Vincent Van Gogh, in flames of creative fire, who else?
kept  it a secret, until I've stumbled in to, as if it's a well.

I fell in love with a girl in a yellow sunflower gown
on it were sea waves swirling in his signature style
in the blue sky, below her waist was  challenger deep,
I held her by the waist, like smoke in a flux, she swirled,
it wasn't in here and now, in the past or in future.

I wasn't present anywhere, just a thought sowed,
got embedded in her brain. This mystery of us,
Van Gogh's echo and the creative universe we did exist
wouldn't figure anywhere except when we meet.
K Balachandran Apr 2015
A  melting igneous rock the size of a fist, he thought at first,
kind of red, faded a bit , resembles mud, somewhat,
something familiar, it reminded, then what, it could be?
melting ice, it now seemed, but  blood oozes, or just paint?
Still he couldn't figure out what; then the shape,came to focus.
It struck him hard now "Öh! my God!" he felt like losing
his breath, how could one forget!  heartless is this world!
K Balachandran Jan 2014
A sun, we have
belonging to us alone,
a river of ever flowing
cool waters, our own
where fish from my *****
swim towards her
mossy secret chamber,
a blue sky spreads
all for us, where clouds
of our making
wear colors,
we like  them to adorn.
No make believe
this world is  for us
to be alone with each other,
we carved it
out of nowhere
cut it out like a ribbon
from the map of universe
as we wished.
we are strangers
considering time
in human scale;
but every minute,
each symbolic ritual reiterates,
that we are from too far
where unbound from
the tangles of time and
the elements of a star;
we had known
each other for eons,
light from that far away rays
still shining in our eyes-
alone can speak that secrets, well
she is energy pure--
personified,
Shakti, the female power
eternally seeking Shiva
me,  the male in universe
for the dance of creation.
K Balachandran Jul 2017
There was blinding darkness to deal with
at first; worse, glaring light to fend off too,
I held you closely,to my heart and moved
we pledged to explore together till the end.

But the play of light and darkness recur
now with different colors and other means.
We lost the compass that point the path we sought
we parted ways smiling at a juncture, unexpected,
in silence, though still aware of our one true calling
the  relentless quest to find a meaning absolute.

Now you are struck by the moment of epiphany
ask yourself about my whereabouts, perhaps fearing
I'm lost forever in  some wilderness unknown,I gather
may be far far away from you, now you'd be thinking
as you had concluded  I am wild, a meteor through space
But my love,never fear, find me there,within you, secure
at our old, rendezvous, that quiet,green space,eternal.
K Balachandran Dec 2011
you accuse;
my mind is Arizona desert,
if only you  could appreciate
those breath taking cactus gardens!
K Balachandran Nov 2013
There are two beautiful people
no one would take their eyes off them
on a garden bench they sit, surrounded by flowering plants,
all exquisite orchids, that make the air fragrant,
behold! these lovers hold something in their hands,
sharp like silver ice picks, with a cruel pride
something fashioned from their love it is,
(what is the necessity, I can't think)
but why they wield it carelessly
at the slightest provocation,
hurting each other with every deliberate move?
bleeding from the wounds gets worse
but they get more and more engrossed -
in this blood letting game  like an enraged pair of foes,
their moments of togetherness become a war for supremacy.
I am just a butterfly,
in love with every lovely flower
guilty of flitting from one to the other
call me disloyal,
but never dream of hurting any one
in the name of love like this.
no one explained to me why
human love has taken such a turn.
K Balachandran Feb 2015
She was the river
sweeping flow, caressing
the banks of his life
a run down town
inhabitants had deserted
      one by one
citing various reasons,
sounding perfectly legitimate,
gifting him a blue gown of fog,
magical, written loneliness
in pastel colors all over it.
She was the flow
he wanted to immerse himself
bit by bit, on her he wanted
to float as debris, left over
the current that electrified him
with her surge, gave solace
with gifts from the mountain
of her origin and the planes
she visited.

             "Ḧere is a word" she said
on a sad day of his,
when  sun scarcely smiled
which in retrospect he realizes
the day he was redeemed,
elevated to the planes of immortals
words surely are!
He was bathing in her
bubbly waters scented with
mountain herbs, wild orchids and
faecund earth
"Ä word that would have
all answers, spoken in silence
a word, ultimate that tells you
  who you are"
a lark sang that one word,
from the limits of her flight,
a star wrote it with it's light
under moon's watchful eyes,
wind boomed the word's high notes,
stringing it's sonorous lyre
He kept the river's word
as a treasure wrapped by his soul
he still lives in that living word
his true abode.
K Balachandran Oct 2018
Thunder breaks open.
Through the gap,an insane rain;
Killing in cold flood.
K Balachandran Mar 2016
Show him your knife, oh! lovely killer, he wouldn't mind,

Seeing your weapon of destruction before the bull is felled,

How much should he suffer,not any more swiftly bring to an end

Was your's love?In such ingenious disguises, how clever!


Well polished and sharpened is the weapon, such meticulous care,

For the precision expected, never ever you missed your target.

A gleaming cutting edge, you sure want to make him proud.

Now I  see this clearly, the magnificence darkness processes!


If a sanguinary end of love life is thy pleasure, may thy will prevail,

Yes your love has been expressed tarantula like , from the day one.

The dark angel, with a vengeful gift, you are, the dark bloom too.

Yet another martyr of love, all his pain equals to your one searing kiss.
K Balachandran Nov 2011
something amiss
he thinks,
even while weeping
she is resplendent
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Even sensing
her presence, as
a wafting fragrance
makes me dense.
But I get as light
as a feather flying
gaily over hills
fueled by
self contentment
when I carry her
in my heart
day and night.
K Balachandran Jul 2018
A coconut grove,
With one tall wind turbine;
Every wind blows amused!
K Balachandran Dec 2011
night keeps
her dress,
in crow's nest,
till she returns.
K Balachandran Jul 2017
Here in dense darkness, alone I sit,
and crave for the caressing rays
of thy gentle light, nowhere near.
Out side the balcony netted to
keep the deviant doves away
the city of million lights speaks
in a jumble of numerous sounds.
like my heavy heart, the overcast sky
is a silent observer, holding light back.

The silence within me kept deepening,
every little light in this city night has
a story to tell, I perk up my ears to hear.
Every skyscraper silently exchange
encrypted message of light of many kind,
to one another, written on darkness.

"I don't trust the night,
she is a cheat" says one
The other replies, "Oh! the night
her luxurious dark hair heals"
Within the discordant sounds
what light etch on the night air has
love and hate, sin and redemption.
Neon pauses create a rhythm,
the musical river flows on.
Sitting here inside the cocoon,
I did spin myself and inhabit,
I think I see you there in the distant
blue light, which you yourself embraced

Will you be ever dreaming about my lonely plight,
when you dive deeper in to your dark night?
K Balachandran Jan 2012
a little while ago
he came with an enigmatic smile and said,
he is still undecided. i gave back the flowers
he brought with such a lovely smile.
i felt relieved, i too was on the same boat
isn't it wonderful?
we think alike, what else we need to get perfectly connected?
strange, do you think?
in love life
i now find indecision  could be an advantage;
why not start, the cycle all over again?
we have a chance to hit gold,
the bell rings, it must be him.
i am pretty sure.
K Balachandran Nov 2011
The setting sun profusely
showering  golden yellow
over scattered Mughal ruins,
dragged history of dead centuries
in to their conversations.

In Delhi
history rocks one back and fourth
as if  in a swing, when one sees
own predicaments from different angles,
realize, the role of a rolling stone
in the incessant flow of time.

In India past centuries, co-exist
forming  a deep water pool,
on the banks of which,
the cities are made.
this  pool makes its presence felt
amazingly in contemporary life,
you can see your face,
and life itself reflected on its waters,
--as if  walking on the shore of distant times;
an exhilarating feeling, eerie too at times.

History was a live  presence,
all along with them, future loomed
with  grievous air of uncertainty
he and she, two lines drawn parallel
(not by them but others, who know better!)
over the busy today of Delhi
gloriously old, yet decidedly new
and an uncertainty vastly between.

one easily gets lost in the labyrinths
unless fully  imbued all this contradictory complexities.

she said, in dreams she was a princess
who fell in love with a poet penniless
but sung his songs only to her heart,
she never did want anything else
she was blissfully unaware of the
complexities of labyrinths,

the king got furious, she said
like some  parents of present times
who don't hesitate a bit, to **** in cold blood
their children who cross the lines
killings in the  name of honor is on the increase
every day you are informed.

in the story of her nightmares
it all ended in tragedy:
the king without mercy hung
the lovers, who preferred death
than getting separated

He walked back alone,
making way through
the ruins of past strewn
with an agitating heart,
here, the time is a still pool
that refuses to flow,
he thought

between the sunset of past glory
and an uncertain dawn
he and she stand separated
by a dark frightening night.
K Balachandran Apr 2015
Desolate beach---
trudging alone,
an old memory
with a hook sharp,
pulls him backwards,
wobbly foot prints
on soggy sand--
instead of her petite feet
playfully filling each,
puddles appear,
reminding
the pools of tear
in her sad eyes,
at the moment
they parted for ever
without even a word.
K Balachandran Dec 2011
Star light
attempts
to tell--
night,
busy with
other things.
O
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