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Valsa George May 2016
Close to our ancestral home
Is an ancient champak tree
It now stands almost leafless n’ bare
With its face turned to the sun and sky

      Once from far, everyone could see
This lush green Champak tree
It stood in all beauty and grace
And carpeted the ground in fallen blooms

Its lovely blossoms were so redolent
Like tube roses, heady and fragrant
In its dark and leafy glade
How as children, we sat and played

Men weary of work in its sprawling shade
Were sheltered from the heat of midday sun
Once it was a bower of sylvan ease
And on its boughs, birds merrily sang

Rustled in wind and shaken in storm
It braved the inclement weather all these years
With its roots boring deep into the ground
Nothing could uproot the tree from its base

How many stories it has to tell
How many robins roosted in its verdure
      How many fledglings took wings into the sky,
From the tiny nests built on its twigs

Now its ancient trunk and gnarled branches
Proclaim sadly that it is about to wither
The tree has just turned itself into
A ghostly shadow of its former self

But the fragrance of these champak flowers
Which still bless the tree in one and two
As if determined to proclaim themselves
Continue to perfume the surrounding air

This tree is much like my ancestral home
Once it was the seat of life and bounty
Now it stays desolate and empty
Spreading memories sweet and fragrant

What solid shelter the house once gave
And how my parents fulfilled their task
Putting all they had into making it a sweet home
That nurtured three generations of our family!
Champak tree is a tropical flowering tree with its flowers having a heady scent !
Golden silk petals
Divine Champak flowers bloom
Enticing perfume
Champak flowers are offered to God during worship .
Some Women wear these flowers in the hair .
K Balachandran May 2013
1
Backwater nymph,
queen of serpentine black tresses
flaunting its coconut oil gleam;
envy of  leggy girls from the Western ghat mountains,
and lissome  maidens from the plains,
who can never eat as much fish, even if they wish.
Wearing hibiscus flowers,
on coiffure like hood of a king cobra,
your coral lips  silently speak
of hot peppery kisses,
waiting for me at shaded corners.
Your sultry body in me arouses desires,
that could only be whispered in your ears.
2
On a coconut lagoon when we met,
for the first time and spoke,
non stop, as if we knew each other life long,
I heard music in your words.
Oh! in the tongue you spoke,
I heard the cadence of a nightingale
ecstatic, on its wings above the clouds,
love had prompted us to fly above the storms.
Your  gleaming coal black eyes,
like silver hooks, tug at my heart strings,
that makes music, only I can hear,
you are a free flying lark,
above Kerala's lush coconut coast,
that extends from sea shore to the mountains.
3
*When we relished steaming brown rice,
mixed with clarified butter,
with spicy tuna curry, tasting so dainty,
cooked in bubbling sweet coconut milk,
my eyes like two crazy butterflies
circled your face, a blossomed Champak
.

Mashed cassava and roasted squid,
melted on our tongues,
in a perfect culinary language
any one would understand without effort.
4
Your lips had cinnamon scent,
spice land's boons,
when we kissed we touched heaven
of scents and spicy tastes.
When our eyes fell on each other,
near the ancient synagogue,
the hay days of which is over,
a long jasmine garland coiling your hair,
    marked you different,
from the  the ladies of your neighborhood,
                                          surroundi­ng you.
How well you did pretend
that you have never seen my face before!

You have mastered love's cunning,
and all the wily tricks to cheat
the enemies of our fiery love
my Freudian mind perfectly understood.
Just imagine the brouhaha we would invite,
when we elope, in the last boat,
to *Alappuzha, stealthily at midnight.
Cochin----(Now Cochi) ancient sea port in south western sea board of India, in the state of Kerala, South India,where,Greeks, Romans, Phoenicians, Arabs, Jews and Chinese used to frequent even before 1000 BCE,seeking black pepper and other spices. Cochi, it  is said had one of the earliest emporiums of Greeks,showcasing their best of  wares including wine in  containers called amphoras.
**Champak---A plant of Magnolia family with musky fragrented flowers(Michelia champaca)
*** Alappuzha--The lake district of Kerala
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me—who knows how?—
To thy chamber-window, sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream,—
The champak odors fall
Like sweet thoughts in a dream,
The nightingale’s complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine,
O, beloved as thou art!

O, lift me from the grass!
I die, I faint, I fall!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale,
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My Heart beats loud and fast
Oh! press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!
Last monsoons the Champak tree
Was all abloom
The breeze lightly swayed the branches
The heady fragrance wafted through the air

The monsoon showers
this year
Wilted away the flowers
too soon

Less is more, I do believe
As the blooms wilted away too soon
Now the tree laden with fruits, ripe and red
Inviting birds of many species
Mornings are especially beautiful
Waking up to chirps and tweets
Of many a mynahs, bulbuls and
purple-yellow sunbirds

This morning as I watched them feast
To my surprise
There was, Indian grey hornbill
Beautiful and majestic as it can be
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me -who knows how?
To thy chamber-window, Sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream—
The champak odours fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale’s complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine,
O beloved as thou art!

Oh lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;
Oh press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!
K Balachandran May 2017
*  Getting closer, to the just bloomed flower
that bewitched him in an instant,
the honey bee gets intoxicated
by the web  of love,
the sweet flower threw around,
it felt more like a gentle caress
to which his heart jumped!
He  starts to do an ecstatic dance,
never thought he could,
till this sweet moment arrived,
merely touching her soft petals
he flies high as if to proclaim his pleasure
buzzing a new tune he composed
for this special moment,
he circles the flower
as if to adore her beauty
form all possible angles
making the moments of love
so special for them both..

* A butterfly enchanted by the flower,next
has a dance of love so different,
he would flit around and hover above
adore her beauty in a more relaxed pace,
he appreciates her silence to his soft declarations,
his love songs have no words, on air written
by the sprightly moves of his colorful wings,
he knows she loves it and his dance tells it all.
Like a kite on the waves of wind, he bobs on air
gently descending,looking at her eyes.

ഇ**  The tailor bird who never misses
mother nature's children all,big and small,
in their myriad ways of loving and living
watches what's going on,
without batting an eye lid,
she has a doubt
"Who among these
  lovers are more intense?"
she thinks aloud.

 The sonorous singer,
Bulbul watching it all
from the hanging branch
of a Champak, flowered in
riotous profusion answers:

ഉ   "Both are poets, no doubt,
of  distinction too,
each of their deeds
spontaneous demonstrates,
with hearts full of love
they wave poetry around us
in ways ingenious
paired with flowers.
why compare them?
Mother nature's brush
dexterous paints each one of us
with such loving care  and kindness
to infuse celebratory spirit,to the world,
never forget that,learn from the bees and butterflies."
City-bus is crawling one zone to another
Someone is recalling somebody silently
Entering into the dustless cool mall
I may dare to tell all the senior ladies love
May open the cellular phone.

Yellow champak smelling the teen-age
Passerby may suffer from unknown blunder
It's really an untold epic
Somebody feels someone
I may redesign my attributes
May write some lines on the corpuscles.

City-bus is entering into the yesterdays
Yellow neon-evening is moving from tomorrows
I may fall down to the stoppage
May kiss the air might touch your lips someday.

City-bus can't cross the globe
Can't find your cyber destination!



Poem 05
Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007
Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen
Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh
ISBN 984-8700-82-X
K Balachandran Apr 2017
The scent, the garland of fresh  jasmine
bedecked on your enticing coiffure exudes,
tickles desire  for an immediate tight embrace.

Musky aroma of blooms of  yellow Champak,
you  always carry around gets  too heady,
demands at least a passionate kiss quick,
if not an act fully dedicated to cupid,who won't lie.

Listen how breathlessly he suggests, options
that would suit to tastes different, one after the other!
If fragrance enhances love interest,lurking veiled,
why,but why,this discord,my dear? Be bit patient.
Prathipa Nair May 2016
In their Garden of Love,
She,the beautiful queen,
Champak, with her
Intoxicating scent
He,the handsome King,
Gandharva, with his
Mesmerising scent
Hypnotising two hearts
With love and romance
Taking them to Heaven !
These are two flowers which will take you to heaven of love :-)
Àŧùl Oct 2
Born an only child,
To government servants,
I grew up in a nuclear family.
I felt very lonely until eight,
Because that was my age,
When I started reading.

Father bought me Champak,
Mother bought me ******,
I got interested in novels.
I remember the first novel,
It was Goosebumps #4,
"Say Cheese and Die!"

I was impressed with it,
So was I paranoid too,
Cameras scared me.
RL Stine hypnotised me,
Not just for a day or two,
Even now I think about it.

Robert robbed me,
With his words,
He stumped me.
Such simple stories,
But me they flummoxed,
Me they stunned.

I thank my parents for everything,
For introducing me to the habit of reading.
My HP Poem #2003
©Atul Kaushal

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