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May 2015 · 476
Silence of the Shadows
Srinivas Vasudev May 2015
Naughty shadows, like wayward clouds
they cast a spell……
With full of yearnings and ambitions
For some
It is the survival!

The precincts and the back lanes
the villas and the alleys
filled with aesthetic thespians
the white, the black, and the brown
and they all look alike in the nightfall
in that beautiful night

factories chimney out the agony
the dying day leaves with sad shades
the Maiden Evening robed in gold
embarks in boundless shadows

who overhauls  these pleasure workers
there are unwritten stories in their  eyelids
there are untold sagas  behind their eyebrows

here and there is a song
striving to colour these shadows
but it is the curves that matter

Late in the night
Silence nurses the wounds
Only to shape the distorted figure
Next day
It’s a new shadow of an old body
May 2015 · 429
Journey
Srinivas Vasudev May 2015
Construing from shades between rainbow streaks
grew to
reading in between the lines
Reached comfort zone of no name
But its worth the wait
Life’s journey has only
halts but not
… ……………. ……

….. ………………. ….






the destination
Apr 2015 · 797
Celebrating Love!
Srinivas Vasudev Apr 2015
It’s a dance of rainbow
When her bangles tilt and twirl
it’s a song of life
when she whispers sweet nothings

the moonlit banks of Bay of Bengal
provide us a perfect place
to unfold the mystery….
Turmeric arrayed Temple steps
in gorgeous Vizag affords us
the abode to realize love….

Love! It smothers me
When I breathe it in!
I cut through the feeling
Only to end up in floating

There my beloved!
Clad in shadow-coloured shyness
smells Love at the end of the passage!
She realizes without my translation

When I hit against time
it consoles me with medicine of Love
after all, I learn to endure the sweet pain
enveloped in a liquid dream

When I look beyond time
Love and time resonance like a couplet
of sweet verse, as sugary as life
Life and love as always, inseparable!
Vizag is a beautiful port city where i was born and bred. I miss Bay of Bengal beach shores and its powerful waves. Its a poem of Love in Rain
Apr 2015 · 433
The tale of a Poet
Srinivas Vasudev Apr 2015
While transforming his aesthetic liberty
into narcissism
he gambles with expressions
Turning the locutions of credos into beauty of tenets
trying to find amorous melody of life
he always lost in lushly thoughts
recreating a brazen space for new celestial cities
he is blissfully poetic.
He is a bloke compelled to dream on
Harbouring hope, conceiving the ambition
Delivers the ultimate…
Even at the tragic ******* release
He is still a Poet.

Being Utopian is his
second nature
forgetting
the cultured bites of
trauma in dogmatic ethics
He assuredly tried weaving
a carpet of viaduct
between the actuality and contentment
Yet, every time failed to
realize the power of reality
bouncing him back from his Felicia
After all he is a poet.
Feb 2015 · 1.2k
Tales of Shadows
Srinivas Vasudev Feb 2015
Shine or shower, we bend forever
Bend to see if the path talks to us
Bend to earn a nickel with a foreign face

Oh! How it bleeds, to walk on the gravel
The stones are crushed to confess their stories
they could be frozen tears of
my colleagues and my fellow countrymen
Who tramped here before!

How it pains, to sleep on flour, which is not mine
Lack of family affection makes us half humans
It has been an infinite urge to
Fly away on the wings of breeze
Just to escape the scorching sun’s torturous smile

We extinguish the fire of anger
No fire, but the flames in the breast
Endure between ambition and desire.

We see light in soldering electrodes everyday
But can’t see the bright eyes of our children for ages
Oh how it torments, a faithful heart that’s broken
To avenge the sad tale of labourers on a foreign soil

For us who experience all the ravines of Life
Night returns with dark chocolates
We continue to lift and bend ourselves
With fragrant bosoms near our feet

Theme : We get to see many  labourers working in the Middle East and East Asian countries like Singapore, Brunei etc. These workers, as construction labourers or as grass cutters, toil a lot on the road exposing themselves to Sun and shower. Most of them are from India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka etc. It pains to see them working under very unfavourable conditions. This poem is an appreciation of their commitment to look after their family back home.
Jan 2015 · 548
My Smithereens
Srinivas Vasudev Jan 2015
I trust my smile
My only courier
Let not pain deprive me

At park chairs
I pick up leftovers of cordiality


Does the world ever suffer?
Or the individual
never learned to write
my soul….
Nor does anyone, I suppose

The jingle bells ring always
they write love letters
of true spirit


I pick up the remnants
from leftovers of lovers
They talk sincerely, I think

wait for love to cure these
let it cure. We will wait
wait a life time!!

Life is the most beautiful accident!!
Srinivas Vasudev Nov 2014
With footprints of time on your breast
Please return the lost child, every moment of glory.
we come to you with a handful of word-seeds
help us grow sprouts of sense and sensibility
the mystic search is knotted in humdrum proclivities
our journey meanders through jungle of learning
a shedload enticements stripe each dawn
ending up with silent solitude, in deep meditation
weariness to weave poems of wonder
surrenders us to you dear Philosopher!
Srinivas Vasudev Nov 2014
Brave Sigh
        ----the story of Life


******* sighs gush from pure body
Sans heart…
sans colour

seldom  eyes only  do matter
But,
life teaches  the story of tears
down the lane….
they are there!

Pathos texturize life’s stories
Life is smoldered often
But, its my turn for empathy
When life is no less than a war

World is still topsy-turvy in its
Attempts to divulge truth

Loch Ness Monster is no longer scary
Nor does Bermuda
Dark triangles are more operative
Dark tales overpower sensibilities

Life  moves on, as usually as the Sun
Encountering evils
worse than cancer or corruption

God changed his identity long ago
Waiting for someone to condemn Him

Sweet is bitter for quite sometime
Sugar- free quotes overpowered
still
Life moves on
Life without meaning…moves on!!

It’s a brave sigh at the end of the DAY!
Nov 2014 · 699
Labour room…. inside me!
Srinivas Vasudev Nov 2014
Love! It suffocates me
When I breathe it in!
I cut through the feeling
Only to end up in floating

There my beloved!
clad in shadow-coloured shyness
advocates Liberation at the end of the passage!
She realizes it without my translation

When I hit against time
it consoles me with medication of compassion
after all, I learn to endure the sweet pain
enveloped in a liquid dream

When I look beyond time
Love and time sounds like a couplet
Of sweet verse, as sugary as life
Life and love as always inseparable!

— The End —