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K Balachandran May 2014
A vanishing cloud, ethereal with a heart shaped red blot in the middle
told her without words, "It's time to dissolve, I can't wait anymore,
it's night, my eyes droop I have to sleep, no time is ripe to say goodbye ever
don't grieve, I am not going anywhere, be back here as things you love most
a strain of music wistful in the evening air, a lovely bird streaming blissfully
in cold mountain air, a sad poem that makes a mother cry for a short while
then dry her eyes and smile,or anything you love without any reason obvious,
will you remember me then, when I am in another, mother dear?"
For Maria
K Balachandran Jul 2018
A coconut grove
With one tall wind turbine.
The wind blows amused!
K Balachandran Sep 2014
Gentle evening wind, non existent till a moment before
lying low among the children playing with the flakes of golden sun
fallen on the silver white sand, quickly rises, unnoticed by any one
flirt with the comely coconut palms lined on the beach,that act coy,
blows towards the long, rolling blue wave, meeting it headlong,
a blast, white spray springs up spectacularly like a fountain,
then, easily lifts three kitesurfers, fling them high up stylishly
across the fortress of water, they look invincible, untouched
by the waves, that look foolish eyeing skywards, the milling crowd
howls in mirth, seeing the dramatic twist, it's all fun till sun down.
K Balachandran Mar 2012
West wind, a ***** lover,
goes round and round,
tickles the trees in bloom,
that go hysteric with delight.
K Balachandran Nov 2011
from the deep blue sea,
seething
like life incessant,
a gentle wind blows--
grains of sand shift
in a pace
eyes can't fully catch

your foot prints
i watch, in anguished silence,
slowly get obliterated.....

everything around us will pass
irrespective of being good or bad.
--we are just foot prints
transient,
on the sands of time--

yet--
we are oblivious
of this play of time
in which we are
mere extras
who sing, dance or wail
as each scene demands.

the wind never subdues,
patterns on sand
would never be constant
o
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Wind,the agent of change,
         you at first was far off and distant,
                    A constant drone of bees, not much!
                       they paid no heed to those rumblings,
                  Your power was counted
                      insignificant,they kept the curtain drawn,
Down, intact, trying to
             keep you out of the house of darkness.they kept.
                    But the suppressed put
                     their ears close to the ground, listened,
Aware of your intent, they
        patiently waited, watching your unhurried advance.

Giving  talkative leaves ample chance
        to speak their heart, first, tickling trees, caressing clouds,
You changed the speed,
          rustling sound soon became persistent.
                 Shouting slogans, hand raised,
                    all the plants and trees expressed their anguish,
Insisted, a change, justice for mother nature,
           stoppage of torture of , animals, birds and bees.

Wind, you act as an unswerving  friend,
                creating awareness , is  your intent.
  and fight the rot , naked profit motive, relentlessly,
                 by now every one knows the injustice,
festering fiercely  in the core.
                               You drive the clouds and spin them about,
                                        rain by and by  gains strength
                                   It pours now in torrents, all untruth
                                      comes out in the open, face the ire,
                             the true power of the protests, eye of the storm.
Wind, you boom, give a clarion call to clean,
          revenge all the injustices, perpetrated til now.
K Balachandran Feb 2012
squre, round, ovel, even in irregualar shapes,
obsrving windows, i found this truth:
a hidden illegitimate desire to become doors.
K Balachandran Jan 2015
"Storm cloud, the beauty in passionate swirls
my eyes never forget to capture, even when far"
the moisture filled wind of desire said with a hiss,
  "Ï have an urge elemental don't you get me wrong,
madly in love with your spirited self,
I wish to make you pregnant, our union is destined by nature"

  "Ÿour swiftness fascinates me but" she said
the mighty ocean current has set his eyes on me for long
I can't ignore that, he wants me as his consort
see him spray steam and   fumes
wants to keep me close and make his own always
what a wild temper he has, tsunami is another name for him
I belong to him, though sea is too far below"
Wind could see how might is revered though too far down
"But storm cloud, my beloved, remember
I have fallen in love with you for what you are
an angry wind is mighty storm in no time, may I remind you?
I will come, won't find any need to ask permission
taking your hand I'll run away with you
then the ocean current will only would fret and fume
but of what use?" the wind boomed above the sound of thunder
We watch with awe the  drama of elements of nature..
K Balachandran Dec 2020
She whispered this to me softly,
"I know the birds really love you"
When we two rubbed shoulders
As if it was by chance, when
All eyes were busy on other things.

"Were you spying on me, may I ask?"
I faigned hurt, just to add a needed drama,
In fact I was glad she had found out  a thing,
That stands me apart in a crowd like this.

"Strolling in the park, I chanced upon you,
And curiously watched how the birds
Thronged on branches under which you sat,
I guess you are  an ace  player of chess
Who knows what to move how and when"

With curious eyes I peered  at her and
Felt wonder;she knows something
About me that I wasn't really aware of
Though I had enough reasons to suspect it.
Though in one thing she went wrong,
I never was one believed in secret moves
Never was one adept in what, when, how
Part of things, but sought mystery
That nature brings at every turn!

Weren't birds my best friends I recognized
They found something in me that they loved
But thought it all so normal a matter, till
She found out the esoteric bond we shared.

Perhaps she is right, or the opposite, wrong
How much of us is hidden from ourselves
I stood undecided, she lets out the secret,
"Do you know you have hidden wings?"
At that precise moment I find she too has wings.
Bird esoteric bond drama spying. Love mystery secret longing
K Balachandran Apr 2014
1.Her sudden wink
links me

2.White foamy
moon light
overflows

3.Hard bud
blooms;
soft petals.

4.Spider
sky diver,
lands softly.

5.Dark slithering road,
perilous ride.
K Balachandran Nov 2011
Eerie old mansion,
witch in the photo
                              winked;
                             visitor spooked.
K Balachandran Jan 2019
Winter lass shows off,
Her icicle diamonds;
Cold fingers tickle
K Balachandran Nov 2013
Winter canters  from a distance, irresistible she is,
                                    I'd roll in my tranquil bed with her,
              then, her embraces would  become an intoxicant,
                    making me dive in to the lake  of stupor she creates
                                              for me to swim with her.
K Balachandran Dec 2011
winter
seems to revel
in it's
intrusive freedom,
to meddle.
K Balachandran Dec 2012
Maudlin       mOOn,
    sitting                      all alone,
                                                          in a brooding
                                                           ailien  sky
                                                    ­                   lost
                                                            ­                in  the thoughts  of,
                                                   ­                        t                              
                                 ­                   s                                  a          ­              
                                                  ­                                                r      
         ­                                                                 ­                                  s,





                       ­                             starless sky makes her feel let down,
                                                     not even a piece of white cotton cloud,
                                                    she can't  even wipe the drops of tear
                                                            ­                                                t
               ­                                                                 ­                             h
                                                                ­                                               a
                                                                ­                                             t
                                                               ­                                           
                     ­                                                                 ­                         f
                                                               ­                                                   a
            ­                                                                 ­                                           l
                    ­                                                                 ­                                       l
                        ­                                                                 ­                                 
                                                                ­                                                        
        ­                                                                 ­                                                a    
                                                           ­                                                                 ­    s

  
                                                                ­                                                         d
                                                               ­                                                             e
  ­                                                                 ­                                                               w
­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­   d
                                                               ­                                                                 ­        r
                                                       ­                                                                 ­                 o
                                                               ­                                                                 ­           p
                                                               ­                                                                 ­           s
                                                              
                                             Over hills, dales, woods and grasslands, incessantly throughout the night.
"A poem is never finished, it is abandoned" said Paul Valery
  this one, from it's look is closest to his idea, I suppose.
K Balachandran Jan 2012
from the high balcony,
when i view
the cityscape is still
under the spell of chill.
early morning mist
the happy daughters of winter,
dance in an intoxicated mood,
swirling, twisting and quickly changing mind,
in a lively display of female grace,
now running away to dance
with romantic wind,
meeting confidently his challenge.
then the sun, red faced, impatient
tries to force his way in,
the female power of mist is now evident,
his attempts didn't that much succeed,
these lithe maiden won't stand
his macho attitude, it's amply clear.    
           Slighted sun awaits
           the mirth of mist to subdue,
           the moment they get tired.
K Balachandran Jan 2015
Swirling morning mist, draws abstract patterns of love
moving sprightly,  between golden rays of sun,
prattling  breeze and other manifestations winter presents,
green grass on the meadow looks like a dew studded carpet
pussyfooting rabbits, lick dew drops in a hurry and run back
to the warmth of their burrows, to sleep for some more time.

Sun, the nourisher eternal of the world , don't hide anymore
come out, peep above the crowd of sleepy grey old clouds,
looking grumpy, ill mannered and winter arrogant to the core,
don't like their attitude a bit, come out blow your trumpet of warmth
make the drooping wet birds, dry, fly up to the sky with a happy cry
sing songs of joy, warm the hearts,drive the winter gloom out.
ഒരു മഞ്ഞുകാല പ്രഭാത സംഗീതക്കലവി
K Balachandran Jan 2019
Softly treads winter,
Her quick bear hug exudes lust,
On hold for an year!
K Balachandran Dec 2011
Winter haze,
cold in waves
snow flakes fly
broken silence.
K Balachandran Jan 2019
Winter night whispers.
Complaining jealous mistress,
Soon to be deported!
K Balachandran Dec 2017
winter ***** snuggles,
moving fingers stoke fire;
****** vigil!
K Balachandran Feb 2012
Winter,
a shy maiden,
                      when she advances;
                      none could foresee
                      her cunning plan
                      of occupation!

playful and gentle,
she tickled nature
with her cool fingertips,
trees with thick foliage
stood before her
like  children,
to get their hair tousled.

                                 she plays considerate companion,
                                 often covers the head of trees,
                                 with her transparent veil
                                 till the sun forcefully remove it,
                                 eager to see their faces.

by and by
she turns insistent.
her presence more persistent
snow fall dense,
grin of ice every where you look,
changes her friendly visage, it looks strange.
her true nature comes out in  the open,
everyone starts to resent her cheeky urge to splurge.
then starts her rude and strident advance.

                                   the canopy of leaves
                                   are fully laden with
                                   thick, white, blanket of ice.
                                   leaves weigh down
                                   suffering with the  cold burden.
                                   the green is completely eaten
                                   by bleak whiteness.
                                   everything,  every one
                                   becomes virtually her prisoner,
                                   thirsting for a drop of sun light.
                                                   OOO
K Balachandran Dec 2011
sleeping snow slowly melts,
winter,  slightly smiling
stands vindicated.
K Balachandran Feb 2012
Growing up in a farm
is rolling in sticky, soft, sensuous, mud
and imbibing
wisdom of nature
beyond words,
a preternatural ritual;
a farm has full of voices
heard and unheard
but mind has ears that record
and replay to one's soul,
i am still at a loss to explain
how it works,
it's another unuttered secret of life.

change in the  tune of rain,
cloud formation, wind speed
and flow of water;
each has distinct meaning
translated to changes in one's life.
more than counted as  rich or poor
plenty of things that make every moment,
enjoyable were the crux of happiness in the farm life.

plants grew whispering secrets
bore fruits and after a period,  died out,
in between one observes
waves that rise and fall
cycles of nature.
that's how, i suppose
i had a ripened sense
of complexities of life, fairly early,
it brought one pain too.

Growing up in a farmstead
is like playing an orchestra of many pieces, all alone
sitting in the lap of mother nature.

i never viewed my father as a  farmer
i saw him sitting on a chair reading Homer
or discussing Tolstoy or Shakespeare
as much as he cared for his crops,
he  really was a student of mother nature
farming was his way of life.
a magician who transformed,
complexities he observed in nature
in to practical possibilities.
"a true farmer is a versatile genius."
i remember those words,
he told us  in a voice of what seemed,
coming from the  elements of nature:
"we are all basically farmers, never forget
and above that human beings"

we grew up with cattle, chicken and farm animals
i was just a child, then, i thought i didn't fully get
what he meant, but later my dad's truth
slowly revealed itself to us,
unfolding through days and nights of our lives.

crop of rice fully ripened was a lovely sight
and the banana plantation, cornucopia
that made heart a peacock that sees dark clouds.
when pepper vines laden with red berries
turned black gold,
walking along the vegetable patches,
i felt what it was to be a farmer.
in  the attic, full of dry ginger bags , air was an intoxicant,
milking cows and grazing farm animals
taught a rare kinship with all life.

when poverty looked with deep set eyes
from fields and pathways to  farms
i understood the spirit of my father's words;
why one should be a human  first.
men and woman and malnourished children
working half naked in splashing, scorching sun,
reaped rice to the accompaniment of songs.
i too used to sing those songs,
and remembered those words
my father wanted us to remember;
i am a farmer,
a child of nature
but a human first
who feels the pain
of those who toil for a living.

O
K Balachandran Nov 2015
Thirsty,she came running to him, like any true seeker of wisdom,
erroneously believing this is a flower full of nectar, waiting for her.
That debacle of hers taught him what the real nature of human life is,
a seeker now, he  finds himself,filling his first cup of elixir from her.
In this play on the stage of life, one finds often donning roles least expected; are you resilient?
K Balachandran Oct 2017
Countless stunning specks of diamonds,
the opulent night sky proudly displays,
for the eyes of  both believers and heretics.
Writes scintillating alphabets of beauty that spells,
eternity in millions of wondrous ways stunning us,
in colors of star lights that stare,twinkle,wink,
or keep a stoic silence,for us  from the firmament,
thereby displaying all the answers to questions,
even the ones, that one failed to ask, in the first place$
K Balachandran Feb 2016
Make me immortal

              with the very touch,

you woke me up once

       from  a slumber of millenniums.
Remember the time beyond time when you were a bubble
in the seething cosmic soup?
K Balachandran Jul 2014
I wake up in a dream
and see you smiling,
in the kingdom of slumber
you are my only queen.
ആഗ്രഹ സാക്ഷാത്കാരം

ഒരു സ്വപ്നത്തില്‍ ഞാനുണരുന്നു
അതില്‍ നിന്‍ പുഞ്ചിരി കാണുന്നു
സുഷുപ്തിയാം സാമ്രാജ്യത്തില്‍
എന്‍ ഹൃദയറാണിയായ് നീമാത്രം.
K Balachandran Oct 2014
The smile of the white bloom, in my crown
its fragrance spreads across galaxies of neurons,
none can fully imagine the scene, I haven't seen
it's stellar design baffles humans, resists exploration.

On single file pass days and nights, indefatigable
rainbows are made and unmade, making clouds
blush and hoping for  bridges across them,
why, even the universe dances to the tunes we play

Ever  at ease, I walk silently past the blue mountains,
of remembrance, mostly love created, a miracle!
At times a poet, a scientist,a  cosmologist,or a mystic in solitude
finds the need to "stand and stare"wonder, speaks in metaphors.

Looking st the fireworks sky manages, I hallucinate,
an astronaut I become, who knows nothing about time
one wished to live in timelessness for ever and when,
that dream comes true, loses within and be nothingness.
K Balachandran Feb 2016
She is clad
in white,
even the stain
on her satin
underwear
is pallid.
As tear drops
well up
in both eyes,
she pleads,
"For God's sake
always wear white,
Do not  provoke
the bull in heat
by showing red
in front of the
huffing beast"

Spare a thought
for her, discern
her reasoning
well, see her plight
with open eyes.

Men in black
with violent streak
imbued from
stone age powwows
are on the march
through high streets,
colonizing homes.
Media, self obsessed
and power drunk,
periodically shriek
make mandatory
noises to please itself,
but to no avail,
in a globalized world,
strangely  getting
polarized in micro level
men and women, remain
just pawns pulled in to
the simmering cauldron
of boiling  turmoil.

But see this;
a woman in white,
holding up a white flag
she signals surrender
in abject fear,
can't attack her, right?
Within insulated walls, beyond Geneva convention (against torture)
K Balachandran Jan 2013
At one with eagle's mind,
I wish, to do this:
concentric circles around
sun's windy light.
Forest's kind,
my mind speaks in zillion voices,
yet  craves for more stillness
than all that put together.
Pupa's struggle
I feel deep inside my
labyrinths,
to break that shell
and fly out on my colorful wings.
Then, eschewing colors, smells
past the night that surrounds,
I long to be the light.
Serpent's wriggle, I become
to find that precise moment
to mate, with the ultimate
get  liberated and come to terms
with all that ferocity
that raises it's hood,
life after life.
The quest that continues
within the endless labyrinth,
is the art of  finding sea's tranquil heart;
becoming the
still center of the cosmic storm.
K Balachandran Jun 2015
On the riveting tiger skin,
intricate tantric motifs
nature has deftly sewn,
indicative of the mystery
of communion predicted
by the stars, the fish in
intergalactic oceans
that dream beyond time,

her lush, **** body spreads
in anticipation of the union
foretold,in palm leaf scrolls of yore
the ancients wrote, as revealed to them,
defying all human logic.

Shiva, merges with Shakthi
Lingam, the ******* plough of creation
seeks Yoni, the fertile awakened
feminine soil that awaits sowing.
The churning of the milky sea begins
in excited, repitative,  motions
till nectar secretes, bringing sublimation.

Then begins transformation,
she becomes the devine lust
of the universe, the receiver of pollen,
to create, proliferate, sustain and spread,
the circle of mystery widens every moment.

The tiger skin on which she lies
before him assumes its grand version now,
it's the sky, without a beginning or end,
she now is the drawing  of the universe
reduced to  the symbolism of female body,
a pure white piece of cloud, taken by wild wind
above hills, dales, that in course of circumnavigation
gets pregnant, then, rains in torrents over the earth.

the union, an energy in waves, spreads
creating fertile imagination, in all beings
earth in green pulsates, with the  universe,
the rhapsody resulted is in all colors.
Tantra is an esoteric path of the seeker, which envisions male and female aspects in matter(purusha-male/prakrithi-nature-female)and consciousness(Shakth-female/Shiva-male)
K Balachandran Aug 2012
Butterfly and flower,
                                       a soft balancing act;
         I need to carefully copy that,
                                         to her utmost delight.
K Balachandran Aug 2017
My melancholy,disquite muse,was the one
Who taught me to empathize with,beats of
Waves, moon lit nights, mermaid songs
Whale whistles of lovelorn moments,
Heartbreaks ending failed love affairs
That haunts the hearts like unmitigated thirsts.
She walks me through the garden path,
Taking my cold shivering hands
            ....in her warm trembling palm...

I see the young blooms fallen from
The lap of the vine, that held them close,
Fondled with such affection, showered for a lifetime.
I see all of them,trampled over,crumpled in the dust.

The withered flowers on bushes we pass,one by one,
They look lackluster  in the crushing
Harsh sun, my muse who refused to speak all along,
Now has teardrops rolling down her eyes.
She makes my crusted ice cap collapse, I melt
Not being able to look at my heart broken by beloved.

I look around for a bud or a sprout extolling hope
A young shoot softly whispers,"Life is here, in wait"
K Balachandran Jun 2012
You wrote on my wall.
those words stirred my soul,
leaning against your throbbing words,
**I dream about your world.
K Balachandran Jul 2018
dreamy blue mountains,
soaked in rained millenniums;
mystery’s magnet!
K Balachandran Dec 2011
Sold
my wit for wisdom
and
sat uptight.
K Balachandran Feb 2014
A wooden cart, drawn by a bullock,
along the busy streets of Bangalore-
took over by throngs of techies,
out on a hunt, after office hours.

A curt mannered matron, the driver
sits chatting non stop in her distinct rural lingo,
on her funky pink cell phone,
about life in general, spiraling prices,
scarcity of water, lack of rain and more.

Luscious grapes in bunches
mostly violet, green and some black,
heaped on the cart, people follow
enticed by the garden fresh crop,
she drives her cart, unfazed, her man now,
has turned to her humble salesman
behind the cart is his place,
he plays the part of  her second fiddle.

No urge to show who is in control,
not him anyway, she is on top
his silence says:"I understand"
K Balachandran May 2012
Love has tattooed
gloom on her face,
Love in black
that pays only in terms of pain.
K Balachandran Aug 2012
Asymmetrically
                we
connect;
                                        yet
           ­                              **perfectly fit!
K Balachandran Oct 2012
Physics may unravel the secrets,
of the  magnetism and electric pull between us,
but about the rest, it'll be only mute,
our laws of attraction will still be in the dark.

Cognitive science may be eloquent
about your keen intelligence and mine,
but falling in love, is beyond the ken of all this,
Is it the rush of hormones that -
brought us together like two merging whirlwinds?
Then, why not before this with any others?

Or was it a flash at first sight
that ignited  our unknown depths,
and built a' tower of desire',
burning like a raging fire, in our hearts
that mixed, dreams, imagination and intuition
with the magic of extra sensory perception?


**We should better solve the puzzle with a burning kiss
K Balachandran Nov 2018
Gleaming zillion fish,
Swim in night’s wonder lake;
Where the moon princess swim.
K Balachandran May 2013
Nearing night, lovelorn evening sky blushes, turns crimson.
Her face, brushing his, trembles with uncontrollable passion.
The sea, clearly is impatient, descending sun so expectant.
Her lips inches closer, his passionate heart is ebullient.
The heaving burden of night, weighs gently upon earth,
The sands of the beach, give way to her lithe body's weight.
Together they savor the wonder, that single moment brings.
K Balachandran Mar 2015
On the water's edge
a stork in meditation,
reality faces illusion.
 
Under water fish
peck at stork's reflection
reality tastes illusion.
  
Flying stork's shadow
swims on water plane
in competition, fish chase.
K Balachandran Dec 2011
Don't you love  the morning, it's calm?
i love,but not the frown
on it's face,
evenings anoint
a golden glow on your
lonely mind,
a gift, absolute free, if you know, how to receive!
evenings are meant for wonders,
(one girl  who shared the magic of many evenings
used to tell, over and over again, a kindred soul
i still remember.But that was in another life.Forgotten)

when the moment is ripe,
you become one with the heart of things
without even words or gestures
at the moment of meeting this girl
I could discern; she was voice of wonder
her silence, i realized, were
whispers of jasmine flowers in spring.

i had this whim, to talk to her eyes,
they, as i expected were eloquent,
there were wet messages sent by water,
my water table resonated.
it was almost mystical; each  element
eyeing at  corresponding element.

she pulled down  the curtains,
and in that darkness with wings
she created, we gently kissed
probing the depths; crevices that
suddenly  start to thirst,
outside her window flowers were smiling at us
i thought,  hoped nobody would knock at  the door;
silence moved our hearts with it's music surpassing limits,
outside the window, in it's cage
the pet parrot, tried to tell  it's master
that we kissed like passionate lovers,
and then breaking brittle silence,
she spoke for the first time,
"Listen to the inflections of musky Champaka flowers"

all my senses were eager to obey her,
after a long languid walk, the evening
started it's race towards darkness,
you get the messages mostly when
light tells it's mind,I know this much
all that mattered was the wonder-
she brought  that in abundance to the evening.
OOO
K Balachandran Nov 2017
white lotus bloom
drenched in copious rain;
wisdom without pain!
K Balachandran Oct 2011
The wood pecker
pecked and pecked
found the finest of wood
in that forest at last,
pecked with it's beak
the words of the poem
sprung in his mind
at that moment
read it in silence
felt elated
and
flew away
to tell
other peckers
pecking
for nothing
but worms.
K Balachandran Mar 2012
Two  sozzled viragoes,
hurl spiky squeals, at each other;
a third, true hellcat,
**stops it all, with one stern word!
K Balachandran Oct 2017
To each passionately
embracing wave,
the sea reveals her heart's secret.
The sonorous chant of each wave,
subliminally absorb the whole truth,
which doesn't get in to  the net
of any word, however dexterous!

Grasp the essence of the profound silence within,
what's in the ocean depth and this are one and the same!
K Balachandran Apr 2013
The brightest night
in my life was there in your eyes,
I remember nothing else,
blissful oblivion, noisy surrender.
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