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Prabhu Iyer Oct 2013
You need the low angle for the camera
to zoom in on my frame: I can scale
the skies, jump down cars, beat
the baddies and romance girls
by age by half: I'm the hero. I defy
everything. Age included.

Look up close, there are no wrinkles;
Muscles, better than gymbuffs';
Hair, not a strand grey, and
skin, as elastic as young. Yet
I've been around for a good quarter
of the lives of you the commonfolk .

There is no start or middle here:
I know no crises, I know no end.
Touch the screen, feel
the sparkle! I'm the polestar
of the ordinary life, I defy
everything. Life included.

In the secret chamber of my private
existence, I sometimes peep
out of the looking glass, but
the glimpse you saw of my eye
blown up, is all you can catch
of the tears that line their tips.
An inside-out look at the life of the superstar!
Prabhu Iyer Oct 2013
Hypermart.
News on air.

Boondoggles,
owl ogles,
ongoing.

Jaywalking.

Reverse gear.
Biting into ginger.

Hindsight: familiar.
Slow down,
observant mirror.

Heartwringing.

Twigs
flying in a whirl.

Coiled up cord;
Snakes from the past.
Boondocks,

hornswoggling,
heartwarming.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hysteresis

rather, in the context of this poem, 'Hissterisis', may be?!
Prabhu Iyer Oct 2013
Then, when a pin-fall echoes ringing
in the enveloping darkness,
and muddied silence eclipses all light,
spreading all around
the mistletoe
guards the path forward,

we must know, it will all end.
For a greater power than all we know,
than even the greatest of Gods,
a secret is enshrined within
the very fabric of existence:
a mystic voice echoes,

from the mists, a boon-giving hand
reassures us lost here:
Whenever in trouble, wherever you be
call and the help shall swell forth
from within the wells
dug empty in the crusts of our being;

Like the last light of the evening
the image of clay disappears
into the waters, that in mystic union
connect earth and the heavens,
appearing again year after year
in yet more lovely forms:

A river of love that swells forth
at our suffering, the cradle
of our weal and woe, the Mother
of everything that ever is.
Nine there might be, the darkest
of nights, but the tenth is

the day of victory for sure!
Navaratri or the 'Festival of 9 nights' is the most important celebration in Hinduism's annual calendar. The festival salutes the feminine aspect of the Divine, and ends in a celebration of the ultimate victory over darkness on the 10th day, called 'the Victorious 10th Day'.

In ancient times, all the Gods assembled their collective power in a great Goddess, who won a victory over the seemingly indefatigable buffalo-headed demon, Mahisha. After the war, the Goddess departs, bestowing a boon to all her devotees, that She will always appear and protect her children, whenever they call upon Her earnestly in their suffering.

The famous Durga Puja celebrations in Eastern India form part of this festival. The Great Goddess is worshipped in a specially crafted clay image for the last 4 days of the '9 nights', after which the image is immersed in sacred waters. If you wish to explore further: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Navratri
Prabhu Iyer Oct 2013
Here in receding darkness, the sky meets the earth;
In waning hours, here the music of the waves
consoles the mourning sands; here I go pursuing
the citadel of mists, rising lotus-like from clouds
hanging on rugged mountains in the distance.

Maelstroms in the desert carry vortices of sand
and moist fragments of mirages of oases;
The fury of the sea brooks no contenders:
***** make home the sands levelled flat of my
feats; Again the uproar of mist-filled thirst.

Invisible companion, tonight, in moonlit silence,
will you come walking waters, like those ages
many, of Galilee ago? A storm is brewing.
A labyrinth of seasons in the Catherine-wheel
of life, growing and swirling out of the haze;
Redacted draft from versions of this piece!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Labyrinth
Prabhu Iyer Sep 2013
When the pall of sullen smoke recedes,
and the rubble long rummaged, after
the nightjars all return home to roost,
and tear-wells in the heart dry up,
the hour,
when the wails of sobbing mothers muffle,
broken
the silken dreams that we conjured up.

Under the vaults of the darkened skies,
who uncovers the faces masked,
read the blackened hearts of hatred?
Not the siren of death we heard then,
stirring the empty wells of our being:
but the song of the hopelessness of life
in the company of our shadow selves.
My tribute to Kofi Awoonor's 'Rediscovery', which I posted previously here:

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/tribute-to-kofi-awoonor/
Prabhu Iyer Sep 2013
When our tears are dry on the shore
And the fishermen carry their nets home
And the sea gulls return to bird island
And the laughter of the children recedes
At night
There shall still linger here the communion we
Forged
The feast of oneness which we partook of

There shall still be the eternal gate-men
Who will close the cemetery door
And send the late mourners away
It cannot be music we heard that night
That still lingers in the chambers of memory
It is the new chorus of our forgotten comrades
And the hallelujahs of our second selves
Ghana's most famous poet and a voice of Africa, Awoonor had a tragic death, shot by Islamist terrorists at Nairobi's Westgate Mall on 21-09-2013. This is his famous piece, Redicovery from his first collection of verse, published in 1964.

The poem is remarkable for its lyrical quality and haunting, surreal appeal to our connection with the lost and the dead. This connection with the other-world is something that occurs through Awoonor's work, influenced by the traditions of his native Ewe people.
Prabhu Iyer Sep 2013
What gives you, who gives you,
you,

who've exchanged your humanity
for a senseless existence
and desire for death -

this right,

to come and **** and maim
the unarmed and helpless,
innocent women,

and children?

you,
armed to your teeth,
against the defenseless weak?

is this strength?
is this a religion?
is this how you attain heaven?
Shocking and appalling attacks on innocent civilians have been carried out by Islamist terrorists over the last few years - Mumbai, 26-11-2008 and now Nairobi, 21-09-2013. There is always a pretext. Always an excuse ready for their actions - 'your country is invading or occupying our land'. Their apologists should just shut up and acknowledge that no such invasion or occupation calls for this kind of senseless violence, and that these guys are criminals whose poisonous campaign should first be shut down.
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