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K Balachandran Mar 2015
She is a succulent bunch,let me be helpful,
if you don't get the complex chemical scent,
I call her ,"a girl of unpredictable
meeting places"inotropic, is her effect,
She sends heartbeats way up.
Delectable too, she was, every time
I tasted certain parts of her.
Her avatars are numerous, like Hindu Gods
With specific  intention for each incarnation
Onee will be pushed in to neurosis,
if doesn't completely relish her infinite variety.
She is a cryptic mystic,
for a while  from signals
I discerned and firmly believed
Or is she just a  creature mysterious
Doubt raises it's head, like a lotus
From slushy pond
My eyes met her at the level of  her eyes first,
the rest in a haze to me was invisible,
Then my heart sends a message
"Right now, I missed a beat here"
Heart then recites a poem,
tells me, it is all her making
"Don't fall in love" heart's advice,
"Go, dissolve in her completely"
Even my own heart has crossed sides,
or is it truly an advice for my sake?
Love is a hallucinogen, get it?
she whistles like wind at bamboo groves
from within sings like a thrush,
she is a magpie, or is she a koel?
Nocturnal animal, in need of mating,
making calls, frantic SMS, incessant.
She is wind and water, elements
that make one burn and drown
She spreads her yoga mat on the floor,
asks me to sit cross legged Indian style,
I am already for that in my mind,
So I spread eagle in corpse pose, indicating, "All through my life", mother earth gives me warmth.
          Shanti,   Shanti,   shanti
K Balachandran Sep 2016
Under the spell of the milky way's surge
an illusion  past a zillion  light years,
among a million things dull and bright
flashing messages like crazy fireflies,
all the time demanding my attention,
how did, just you became my cynosure?
As I sit amazed like a kid on an ocean shore
foolishly start to analyze, without knowing
how to go about it, except dreaming  in poetry,
my eyes catch the same  galaxy in my veins
in your eyes churn, to catch the essence of this spell.
And I realize : you too are like me,  puzzled
about this magical conspiracy of stellar configuarations
that make the star dust within us attract each other.
What do we know about the cosmic dynamics that make us work as a clockwork, intricately connected to  one limitless consciousness, in which all form a part...
K Balachandran Jul 2014
You are the 'North America' nebula
                       in all your splendor and colors
I am the remains of a supernova,
                        even NASA has long discarded,
exploded spectacularly-ancient Chinese recorded-
                         yet still alive, for you to admire!
wearily I view the star forming clouds
                         chomping through the cosmos,
enchanting still, I guess, I am, for a swirling landscape of stars
                         like you to profess your love;
I am overwhelmed, but this absurd drama
                         will eventually plunge us in to dark holes.
My darling, the cosmic dance has no rules;
                        pain in murky regions of star formation,
iridescent display of dead stars seeming to remain ever,
                        love, loss, collision, birth or rebirth
no apparent reason for anything, being and nothingness
           too are kaleidoscopic, just creations of auto suggestion.
"North America Nebula"  is an emission Nebula in the shape of  continent North America, in the constellation Cygnus
K Balachandran Jan 2013
While pouring me wine,
her eyes seize me again,
a  decision dawns.
K Balachandran Nov 2011
critic ate the core
of the poem;
left rest
insipid.
K Balachandran Apr 2014
Quintessential charmer, libidinous crow pheasant, has an eye on him,
thinly disguised mating calls disclose her keenness of intention,
protruding derriere, provocative walk, her amour leaves
nothing to guess, 'what you fancy is my desire' her acts yell out to him.
K Balachandran Dec 2014
Day keeps his tryst with winsome light
under the golden dome of the opulent morn,
still shamelessly eyes the leaving jealous night,
with the glad eye, reserved for a concubine,
to whom at sun down he stealthily returns.
This illicit affair both consorts are aware,
hasn't it sustained both, with him as the buffer!
K Balachandran May 2012
'O'  was well rounded and open,
hookup with 'N' changed everything
now, it's either ' NO' or 'ON'
Oh! that impulsive 'N'!
K Balachandran Mar 2016
You sit in silence, on lotus
deeply meditate, in the end
recount the tale of life, simple
for a moment,in a nutshell,
the sky of your mind is clear.

But materials of millions
of light years in our tale
is beyond retrievable limits,
on that no confirmation
is needed, simple logic will
tell you that the life you live
couldn't be an isolated one
every one of the neurons
of your brain, is a star in this
thickly braided, interwoven 
 universes, that die and take birth.

Before and after simply
must be there, but, as it is
out of bounds for the senses,
limited to a time and space
we are groping in the dark.

So what now, don't you
want to go beyond --
in to the ocean where
human logic can't stand,
and end the intergalactic
expedition with light
and darkness as references.

Break the final barrier
exploring  the universe within,
decide to be the light
undiminished for ever;
embrace enlightenment
breaking the golden chain
that ties down,  desires.
K Balachandran Jan 2012
in word play, let me confess
i am so enthusiastic,
perhaps a bit beyond the limits too,
but every time i attempt that,
words start to play between themselves
making me just a collaborator,
quite curious!
K Balachandran Sep 2017
"I am freedom itself" hummed aloud,
the wind that passes agitating tree tops,
air am I, the giver of life,pumping energy"
"I am with you" I echoed his song sans words
"Though I won't hazard a guess where do we go"
"Don't you bother, our circumnavigation is yet another
of the stories, in the compendium,universe  does cherish.
We belong to all, as movement that never ceases"

"Get in to my vehicle, the heat will look after the rest,
the transporter,that makes everything light,
by burning down, I am the transformer too"
"I am the hunger you possess" I replied
"I eat and digest, create growth, make things move,
in my ***** is the hunger to procreate,progress.
Once the hunger is satiated, I get back
slithering in to the burrow, like a serpent
Anger I become when I decide to destruct,
it's from the ashes of the old,the new is constructed!

"From the salt in me,everything living sprout"
earth, the begining and end of everything
in customary silence,implied, I was overwhelmed.
she is the nurturing mother of every seed with the
potential to life, wants to open eyes to the sun
then grow roots deep to entrench, stand *****,
"I am one with you mother earth, from you
sprung my body, that seeks light, rest at night"

Sky was full of birds,regaling in every presence
in it's fold, sky beams"I am a vessel fathomless,
come in to my space open,dance your way to bliss,
and seek wistful dreams written by interstellar light"
"I am filled by you where there is an absence of other
my mind limitless is in you exist, I am you in spirit,
when I withdraw from all,I am all in you, nothing left"

Water did speak both to my silence and eloquence,
water is beyond the markers of darkness and light,
From earth to dust, dissolving to be water and flow
from one kind of existence to other, till the limits of cosmos.
K Balachandran Jul 2015
Stillness of night reigns,
pale full moon conveys
something subtly ambiguous
to each one looking at her
from their respective stand points,
the most painful feelings
echo in the heart of the lover
alone in this jungle hideout
on a blind pursuit of
another kind of happiness
he can't forgo, even if he wishes.
Now the stillness is broken glass
roar of a big cat out in the wild
hunting the best of preys well fed,
an ecstatic mating call,
of an amorous parakeet,fallows,
In the rule of the jungle,
pain and pleasure co exist
any moment, like darkness and light,
the wheel moves on, interminably for ever.
K Balachandran Nov 2015
Fallen deeply in to a pit, devoid of words,
           marked by shrapnels of  silence,that repeatedly explode,
her soul in pain, yearned to caress him once again
            with fingers of repentance, rekindle the love frozen
but then, he wasn't moved by the tender feeling
              to seek or grant forgiveness  for old times sake,
wearing  a crusted armor, he had crossed the Rubicorn,
              that subtle level where such things of heart matters.
K Balachandran Mar 2016
To make a long, curious, story short,
the damsel in distress a while forgot,
her troubles, rescued him from the rot,
and in the process found her way out.
heard the age old story of damsels waiting
for princes in shining armor for rescuing,
ad nausem,wanted a change as reality is different,
now is the time when damsels are in missions
to rescue boys still not men,  in distress
let's put the record straight, give her her due
K Balachandran Apr 2012
At the heart of the dance,
              the dancer
                      became  
                                     dance.
K Balachandran Aug 2012
Like  Kundalini's awakening,  for long this too was hidden,
the female part of my psyche, consorts
with male in her, to perfectly blend;
*with in us flowers the dynamics of Shiva-Shakti  dance
Shiva- the male principle in nature/human beings; Shakti -the female energy everywhere  present...every thing in universe is harmonious, when these energies blend in dance, which continues eternally.This is the crux of "Ardha Nareeswara"(Half man/woman) concept  evolved in ancient India.
K Balachandran Sep 2013
A hitchhiker, he sits in a roadside shack, with a song on his lips,
a jewel, a chance find from the heap of trash, in front is in his hands,
just back after chasing a rainbow, in an aircraft crossing sound barrier,
he found it's made of droplets of water and hopes yet to be fulfilled,
the moments invaluable she gifted to him, he'll never measure,
with anything other than emotions pricier than the costliest diamond,
the moments he gifted her from his repository of secrets in his heart,
takes many births to make it ripe like that, he understands.

He has no apologies for anyone for anything, everything
happens with the mathematical precision, mind sets in motion.
Each moment has something to offer, if one hesitates,
the plate goes on changing hands and someone takes it.

He doesn't stop smiling, sun and moon, with their rare moments of
unequal beauty, are his darlings, he decides what he wants to take
feels the flow on mind, soul, veins and everything moves,
don't you fail to be aware, you are an endless flow, he tells himself,
quantum of energy, in perceptual synchronized motion,
from waves to dancing waves of the limitless cosmic ocean.
K Balachandran Jun 2017
1.
The wind swooping down from the mountains,
swirled around, made the central courtyard,
open to the sky, that brought the nature in all seasons
in to our lives, comes alive with it's signature tune.
Pouring profuse rain, splashing golden wash
of sun shine,smoky mist; around the changing ebb
and flow of seasons we built that house
under  tall ancient trees.the memories of which
we kept,within the strands of double helix
for many generations to come.
2.
The earth,fertile, red,waiting to be  ploughed
and sowed, called to us aloud," A toiler's life
is the best, never would one of you'd  regret,
sow the grains, plant the fruit trees,you are blessed"
We did as the earth wished , wasn't it what we did best?
3.
Wind swept dry leaves, heaped in a far corner
fire, with gentle anger turned, all in to grey ash and dust
we swept  it across the plouged land, ready for new cycle.
Jumping in to the ravine,we swam,it made our beings fresh
then we watered the plants, trees and crops of every kind,
water quenched our thirst, it's cool waves made us calm.
4.
In the night's play, marred with animal calls and owl songs
vast green spaces dominated my extended dreams.
We rode the horses of waves at high seas,the space within
mind was most to be explored,we set about conquering that.
K Balachandran Nov 2012
Battered by the waves of life, bone tired,
I enter the chamber of  long night, to sleep naked;
*In a dream she comes, my dark maiden
waiting to take me to the last forgetfulness
K Balachandran Mar 2013
Stealthily she moves, like a ghost,
               None seems to notice her dark presence,
"Here I am near his bride" vengefully she hisses,
                  Then remembers, "Already I am a ghost"
K Balachandran Jul 2015
An old fort, on top of the slopping hill
          sentinel to centuries rolling down still,
from where the sea for the lovers
           was a vague  dream, perhaps from another life,

this haunt mysteriously lures them again and again,
            to be together lost in passion for long hours,
In a time long before on the same spot,
           blood, had gushed like river after each fierce duel,

after the mad hiss of swords,
            thirsting for the blood of the other, the rival,
the howl of the wind, the salty taste on the lips,
            ***** love present as wild aggression-
in the explosive proximity of two
            full blooded animals, results in the hiss of kissing.

The ethereal bliss is  marred suddenly,
            by the howl of ghosts, time travelling in to their spirits,
in the throes of death,the vanquished, the other victor,
            in shock they both realize the hidden truth.
all seeming dualities  and contradictions spring from one, dissolve when truth could be  perceived as absolute...with great effort...
K Balachandran May 2013
Trident mountain in silent meditation,
embraces the pink glow of dawn,
piercing clouds, the highest peak shimmers
in the dawn of enlightenment.
K Balachandran Nov 2013
The clock demands a tower, for it to look outwards
night has an absence, the key factor
bringing relevance to a lighthouse,
the nightingale infuses sweetness to night hours
for those listeners who never fancy hearing her on a day
a tall wall, a ladder and an iron cutter, perfectly
shapes a thief; there is a mysterious disorder
pointing the other way to every careful order.

The cactus flower and delicate butterfly on it,
brings to focus a certain delectable incongruence,
eternity has an eye resting on evanescence,
a scientist with a reverse cerebral process
alone can snake in to the origin of such nuances,
where hides the complex aesthetics of the 'other'
of what we are familiar, more fascinating than this
the universe that's the tip of an iceberg, hides from us
though, it exists here with all of the 'multiverse'
But who would institute a Nobel prize for 'otherness'
to shed light to the dark path, that would gift more astonishment to us
Multiverse--(refer M-theory)It postulates parallel universes, with a solar systems exactly like ours,
a terrifying and spectacular experience.You and I may be living slightly (or drastically )different lives in those billions and billions of galaxies...infinite copies of each one of us, out there,
can you imagine this?
K Balachandran Feb 2012
small, chirpy bird,
flitting under the dome of air port,
comes down, nonchalantly partakes,
omelette from my plate.
In Kempe Gowda  Airport,Bangalore, you'll see them sup with travelers,unhesitatingly.
K Balachandran Feb 2015
For both partners, in a protracted dance, out of step, for long time,
it was creativity, at the best in the destructive mode,they are well versed,
like in a music record, cacophonous,their marital discord did manifest,
was made to look,an art form, instillation like, with many possibilities.
Destructive art expresses itself in relationship issues, stupefying the onlookers!
K Balachandran Mar 2012
The dragonfly passionately
calls me "Cushlamochree",**
She adores dragons, i can see,
and strangely, sees one in me!
'Cushlamochree'  :dear heart, darling--- a word of Anglo-Irish origin
K Balachandran Mar 2014
Mist told me in her vaporous touch
"Let me dress you in my fine muslin clothes,
though you may find it a cold comfort
my love will endure till sun drives me away"

And sun, strode in donning his warm golden gown,
splashing his sunny voice, he announces,
"Purple, red, golden yellow, as time moves,
choices you have, folks, till i go back with my stock,
mine are silk, the purest for you to luxuriate
unlike with others, my love for planet earth,
is something never fully told, whoever does it "

Ah, then comes the lady clad in sensual black,
with her one powerful color that makes,
none stand out in the line, all are equal in her bed,
dress she gives you have to accept,no choice there,
somnambulist deem it a privilege  wearing it,
those ones that vanish, seek out her winged dress.
K Balachandran Jan 2017
At certain intensely
solitary hours,
when the journey
to the center of the self
brings awareness to a level,
where  duality is intolerable,
my bold **** self
with nothing to hide,
haunts the other:
the one merely dressed to ****,
challenging time and again,
for a wrestling match
--a fight to the finish.
K Balachandran Mar 2014
Intense eyes, a majestic eagle,
                 circling high, is the air she carries,
a samba dancer luscious, who strikes
                    blow after blow with her belly button,
central stage always is hers
                   a bird of pray elegant on the look out,
the heightened awareness from
                   a sense of clear danger present,
is the reward she assures,
                 to him every minute for being her escort.



Rub her right, rub her wrong,
                      find what it would bring was his itch
the eagle woman conceals nothing,
                     keeps her eyes keen, wide open,
her mind a radar, focused on
                    what is to happen the moment next,
from mid air like a missile she swoops down,
                    stand still for a moment and then strikes,
she is on her prey, but he has
                      slipped away, at the precise moment.




Both are in awe of each other, but smiles,
       on the dance floor they are glued to each other,
he now plans a daring plot,
                 named "The sword of Damocles"
she is of two minds, love this game,
                    finds him fitting the bill,
yet the bird of prey awaits time for the next raid
                        "He is made of dainty stuff".
A protracted, slightly dangerous, courting game
a siren, and more a femme fatale and her wily suitor
play a game of one-upmanship.....whoever wins, it will complicate the problem
K Balachandran Dec 2011
Could I
ever forget
your effulgence,
the moment
you said,
"Yes"
K Balachandran Jul 2015
A burning desire,more than anything he has known,
often he thinks a name should be given
propels him to explore inner world more and more
he dives down hopefully, yet another time
to the still center of the churning maelstrom ,
finding a diamond,from the dark depths of secrets
is still possible after all these trials and frustrations ,
though every time before, what he retrieved,
in broad day light turned out only to be a smooth pebble,
--each poem tells him to begin all over again, with  renewed vigor
K Balachandran Sep 2014
He created a night for him
with the dark metaphors
his poetry tossed on to the air;
from its ember buried under ashes
oozed little by little,
two drops of scared light.

Alone, in the cocoon of the memory
of her words, he distilled and drained
the magic potion of poetic expression.

In it was ingested, the intensity
of sudden lightening
that burns down everything
in to ashes

like the tides that occur high and low
what if ,at will, single source secretes
both poison and nectar?

with your eyes mutely speaking of desire
you are deft in signalling both---
the ascent of love, that creates in me
the instant capillary rise of passion
and
love's descend, as if the monsoon has dissipated
and just a sprinkling announcing rejection!

who are you, reveal your true face
poetic trance at the moment of my inspiration
or dark poetry, gushing out on it's own
from a secret spring, deeply hidden?
K Balachandran Oct 2015
An army of ants, black, brown, red and white, in disciplined columns,
each one no less than any other,armed to the teeth, ready to ****
on their marauding march,find this giant, not a day too long ago was
too fierce as a man,  whose reign of  terror was most feared, lying still,
as if all those deeds were  incidental,and he in no way is to be blamed.

They are equanimous, the ants, next wave, this is no more than just debris,  this relic from the past, for them, something to be dealt with,
the army of disciplined ants, as per their manual, meticulously inspect,
whether the body has some strength  left somewhere in the system,
to pull together rise, overcome the fatigue of a life full of misdeeds
not nice to remember,  counted all the same as glory by sycophants.

They want to finish the work fast, fearing the return of the nightmare,
busily they went on doing what they are good at,they had their brief,
from the command center ,to clear up the debris from the battle front,

The last of the ants leaving  the gnawed white bones,  under moonlight,
writes the epitaph on sand,with it's spindly legs,thus:"This fort too fell"
All flesh is grass
K Balachandran Oct 2012
She was eating fish, evidently relishing every bit,
         but with some haste.
  He sat with a bottle of wine
              so relaxed,
         seemed exploring
     something lost in mind.



                                             Now, her plate is full of bones,
                                                   artistically placed,
                                             his conversations with wine,
                                                     goes unabated,
                                                 *he is certainly marooned in an island.
K Balachandran Dec 2014
Each one was elaborating
all about life at length;
in many words, all one heard
was just about themselves
K Balachandran Jul 2013
Deep in the beehive of my brain,
an invisible queen bee* lives and rules.
Just a drop of honey from her honeycomb,
can bring the salvation I yen for all along.
*Pineal gland also known as "the third eye" is a small(5-8mm, the size ofa grain of  rice)endocrine gland in the vertebrate brain, to which is attributed  mystical awakening or enlightenment,clairvoyant perception and higher state of consciousness.
K Balachandran Nov 2012
The morning, milky white,
was dripping from sky to earth,
like desert sands, it extends
beyond my mind.
White flows like benediction
of the cosmos, I tell myself,
is it real or the illusion mind creates?
I swim to the depths,
an emerald cave, so familiar
in many lives, comes to sight,
I take the sword kept there
from its sheath, and dive up
cut the chain of illusion with it.
The white blood of silence
gush and spread everywhere,
I gaze at  the face of truth
hidden by golden leaves*
till the moment before.
*"Leaves of gold cover the face of truth. Please remove Oh! ultimate, for me to see the truth of Dharma"
(15th mantra of Ishavasya Upanishad)
K Balachandran Dec 2011
wrong mask
worn by mistake,
she intended to scare
but...
K Balachandran Jun 2015
Your impassioned ****** blabber, a primordial prompt,
the seed, swelled,seethed feverishly for a while, sprouted
then surged in to a sea of love with all the intensity mustered
we drowned in that flood; there was only the sea of bliss.
I know not another moment, I could fly without wings
K Balachandran Apr 2016
After what seemed  eons
he heard her saying this,
        gently patting his chest
        and wistfully looking
        at his withered rose petal lips
                      "You need to slow down,
                        be incisive, gaze, just not
                              with two physical eyes
                                master your senses, all five
                        if you want to see clearly
                      what truly transpires
                beyond mere words and actions"
         those frenzied moments
of love, despair whatever, intense
he somehow felt part of his, cherished,
                 But did they deliver?
             never did he regret a GURU's absence
                 still hoped in a deeper layer of psyche
                           "He would certainly come..won't
                              decide against showing up"
                      Still he was waiting
                           (looking at the directions wrong)
                             when she was with him,
                                     his lover,finder of path too, for a long while.
                              None had ever seized him like this
                                   and emphatically said such a thing
                                                   Now he could see
                                                     more clearly with focus
                                            as if the blazing sun appears
                                            when the clouds are driven by the winds.
             He heard the words of wisdom
             a woman like her can better discern
                because his light and darkness reflect
                on her screen of love, better,
                                essence-mind- bliss
                              "Sat-chit- Ananda"
                              where cosmic waves
                              make their presence
               At that instance he decides
                 to let go pretenses of every kind
                       he felt expansion of consciousness
                          a feeling words would never learn to express,
                         with stars in attendance he slept
                      cleansed himself in the waters of milky way
              frenetic drum beat of heart
              vanished as if he is no more
body bound, free to fly anywhere.
         wasn't she just predicting that
         the slow dance holding the hand
         that masterfully guides,
           it  begins
                            from this moment.
Journey towards the light of enlightenment is not intended without a Guru, a guide who could take the seeker sure footed through the path.
The deep yearning from the giver and the receiver culminates in the mysterious moment of find from both ends.Finding the Guru designated for one is the greatest moment in the journey of the  seeker,chanting
"From ignorance  lead me to essence,
from darkness take me to light
from death lead me to immortality"
Some times the Guru one searches endlessly  through long road would spring surprises like this...why not learn the path of truth from one's lover, friend, neighbor, subordinate and be humble?
K Balachandran Nov 2013
A teardrop,
quickly formed
refused to fall,
demanded her
the reason
why it should
roll down
from her eyes.
choked with emotion
she couldn't reply;
yet attempted
to say "Love"
but before she finished,
the tremor
gripped and shook,
the tear drop
fell on her cheek
first drop of rain
after a long drought,
started a flow
that refused to stop
for a long time.
K Balachandran Sep 2013
Blue roaring river, green seething sky;
everywhere he follows her on the sly
fully undressed in less than a minute,
she jumps in to the river and dives down

a woman's secrets in water gets a life
the protector in him is instinctively aware
not every action is prompted by a thought,
she finds him there, a fish in the depth,

getting in to her, twisting his tail, through dreams, 
of recurring red blooms of desire, fertility rites.
K Balachandran Feb 2016
Under the murky water of consciousness,

there are one or more, even a shoal of fish.

On the bank,I sit, a  brooding moon on it, reflects,

looks like it swims in the sins of clouds,

My fish-line and hook lay limp on the grass bank,

I've to catch the fish,the line is strong, baits ready,

But I am enamored by the moon's reflected glory

on the water,a lover of the moon, I'd love to catch

as much fish,without breaking the watery moon.

To forgo the love of illusions,keep focused and wait.

deep inside one has to decide,what to seek from life

whether to walk the hard path where  wisdom trees line up,

or heartily be regaled by the pyrotechnics of apparitions.
K Balachandran Mar 2014
Forgetting the desert's treacherous paths
standing alone, he insanely marvels
nature's architectural craft;
a cactus tower unique, spiraling many ways.
K Balachandran Apr 2015
An eagle flies high, beyond the mind's sky,
above the purple dawn over the Himalayan snow white  it flies,
soaring above the trident peak, where Shiva with Shakti dance
to be one with the essence of all, in resonance with the cosmos.
* Chidakasha--sky of the mind
K Balachandran Nov 2013
His face is white like chalk,
he mulls death as an option,
"bleed , bleed my heart,
till you are white" pleads his desperation,
flying back after loosing her forever, deeply hurt,
everything he achieved so young
seems now just dirt,
in a chartered flight empty
except the crew and him
no easy route he can think to ease the pain.

Through the window,
in the bare  blue sky his eyes fall
on a lone albatross,  
going  down loosing height,
gravity pulls one down each moment,
rise above the clouds and expect a thunderbolt,
then go down like a flight in distress any moment.
thinking about her streaming eyes that followed
as he left her even without a goodbye,
he hears her SOS ringing in mind.

Will she ever know what really happened to them?

"Our love has been betrayed by the world,
we've been taken for a ride by all we did trust,
now far away from the hold of reality,
this cruel world anymore, doesn't deserve us"

The flight has taken to heiger altitude, away from all this
enters in to the magnificent city of clouds,
without seeking anybody's permission.
The skyscrapers in the high street of this opulent place
has created new reality to him without her

The steeples of cloud cathedrals bring calm,
there isn't any going back from this tranquil world.
"I wouldn't go back from here, dear captain,
look! how well we have fitted in this reality's fold
let us not turn back, but land here in the city of clouds,
where all flights, of every time, land for ever, never look back.

Call the air traffic control, make your voice cheerful
even the paths here are covered with cloud carpets,
let's save the fuel, fly on the wings of clouds
steady towards eternity, that wait for us."
K Balachandran Jun 2013
An exotic orchid, of the mountains, her smile was scented invitation  
a jocular honey bee, elated by  her fragrance, than nectar, he was.
Covered all over with her pollen , he felt fulfilled, an instinct deeply hidden. prompting.
"To me memories are to be perfect" said, the handmaid of whimsy
"But when I am gone" sighed she "None will ever remember me"
he too felt sad, doleful was her mood and the words,
he fell silent , thought for a long moment and replied:
"Let me be candid about this, though to your  fragrance I've given my heart,
unless the offer of honey is implicit, why should I come searching for you?
We both give and take too, that's the prompt of nature true,
we can't help it, that's why we do; more than that all nature decides"
The flower stood mute and wistful, then serenely smiled,
it was time for them to part, the wind whistled its sly message.
K Balachandran Jan 2014
A fruit gatherer by some chance,
she is deeply immersed in this pursuit
seeking out and gathering ripe fruits,
hidden by the foliage,
but her eyes search far beyond,
sunny day, the impact of beauty all round,
  moves her deeply and transforms
her demeanor speaks of an  inner tranquility rare,
and the light her eyes emit speaks
all this indicate a deeper meaning to her act,
much more than what meets the naked eyes.

The verdant garden, flowers, ripe fruits,
the fruit picking charmer herself,
are the realities in front,
if one doesn't look beyond and only see skin deep,
it suits him well, what is the prompt of beauty,
he does not know for sure,
absorbed she is, and he sure is aware of being enticed by her fruits,
as much as her,
and he wants to be a fruit picker himself,
we all are, for reasons only our inner selves fully know.
K Balachandran Dec 2018
Every single day is partitioned fairly, I'd  think
amongst us denizens of this uncertain universe,
that makes no loss ever in its  unceasing transactions,
as every end is a new begining and also the reverse.

I wonder again on  the complex algorithm at play
and demands upon  each moment to accomplish it!
With a laugh I just let go the thread of that *****
thought on  processors and servors for a humanguous
operation needed for that to go on for ever and aye!

What nonsense! the human logic is hugely flawed
Cosmos has better manuels of operation never
needed to be written down, just like the affairs of heart
of men and woemen that jostle in this planet ,driven
by urges prompted by mind, body and if you'd believe
without any qualms,the  spirit, but I wouldn't insist.

Dusk was falling, and I sat smugly on the sugary sands
of the bikiny beach, with a vengence on my face
(but not with the bitterness of one, just now short changed)
And with an adamence to get my fair share of that day's
catch, plucked fruits, harvest,hunted gold or whatever!
I didn't want anyone notice as my exchange was
happening in in silence, on cycles higher without any means
tangible, of communication of any meterial sort.

Then there was a  on sand behind me, I felt warmth,
the dog was snuggling closer and closer to me to comfort!
Her liquid eyes said, all that I wanted to hear
She was my solace for the day's battle wound, I reckoned
exuding warmth, she drained my pain like the bad blood
darkly stuck,let out through the cut I just had survived.....

Night was long and the moon anointed us with her balm
on the sand bed a man and a stray dog slept unstirred.
K Balachandran Jul 2015
A wish like a wild fire,
kept burning inside her heart,
she couldn't contain it any more,
so  whispered it to the heart of night,
fearing it would be forgotten easily
as the night advances to a destination unknown.

But the first golden ray of morning light, she gathered
was the sweet fulfillment she didn't know she sought all these days.
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