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Kuzhur Wilson Sep 2013
My poetry, which knew it was
the cry of a lonely bird
on a solitary tree
in my village,
asked Spring its name.

Spring began to speak –

The fruit laden Vayyankatha, her thorny pangs, hijab-wearing  Guf, her minarets, Thondi  blushing red with kisses,  her moist lips, orphaned Adalodakam, Nellippuli in a polka dotted dress, Pulivakawaiting for the breeze, Anjili   head towards the south, yawning Cherupuuna, Pera with the names of grandmas scribbled on her leaves, Ilantha blowing into the hearth, Ilapongu rubbing his eyes, Irippa, Atha laughing noisily,Cholavenga in tattered clothes, Irumbakam, Padappa catching his breath after running, Pattipunna wagging his tail, bare footed Pattuthali, Thekku the noblest among them, Thekkotta, Neervalam  recollecting her last birth, Neeraal, sobbing Neelakkadambu, Pathimukam, lazy thanal murikku, Karimaruthu, Karinkura, Asttumayil, Velladevaram, Kattukadukka, the gluttonous Badam, amnesiac Vazhanna, boredVarachi, Nangmaila, Eucalyptuswith a sprained back, viscous red Rakthachandanam, saffron robed Rudraksham, Vakka, Vanchi,  Parangimaavu nostalgic of his ancestral home, Vari, Nedunaar, Marotti with a hundred offsprings, Malangara, Malampunna ,Nenmeni Vaka trying his luck in a lottery, Nelli with a sour smile.

Kadaplaavu doing sketches with leaves, Kari straying from the queue, Kattuthuvara buying things on credit, Kattutheyila boiling over, Kattupunna with a pus-oozing sore, Kumkumam putting a bindi on her forehead, starving Ventheku, Vellakadambu making a missed call, Kattadi standing aloof, her feeble hands,  flowering Ilanji, her fragrant trunk, sighing Aalmaram, Pachavattil, Pachilamaram  gossiping with the chameleon, Panachi,Pamparakumbil, Kadambu memories adorning her head, Kudamaram carrying provisions for the home,  Punnappa,Poongu, gray hairedChuruli, Chuvannakil  singing a folk song, dark skinned Vattil, Kulaku, Karinjaaval, sozzled Pamparam, Chorappayir, njama, Njaaval  tempting the birds, Njaara, Alasippooscratching his palm, Ashokam  humming a sad song.

Ezhilampala chewing on a masala paan, Peenaari wearing a tie, Peelivaka, Pulichakka with a broken leg, Pezhu demanding his wages, Kumbil, Kurangaadi, Kasukka with a dislocated elbow,Valiyakaara, Vallabham, Chavandi, stunning Chinnakil , Chittal with a failed brake, Vidana, Sheemappanji, the loan shark Odukku, Oda  on musth,fatherless Kadakonna, childlessShimshapa, Sindooram with a flushed face, Karinthakara singing the thannaaro, Vellappayir high on grass, Poothilanji showing off her blossoms, sour faced Kudampuli.

Wet in the rain Kulamaavu, Kudamaavu circling around himself, Pari from the netherworld,Poopathiri in a priest’s robe,  Poochakadambu on all fours, Kulappunna covered in a blanket, Kundalappala checking his astro forecast, Pachotti, ******* Perumaram, Perumbal  thinking of the sea, phlegm clogged Anathondi, Anakkotti, Cheruthuvara, Ilavangam, Thanni,naughty Thirukkalli,  Karappongu, embracing Kattadi, Thudali, Thelli, Kara, Malayathi,Malavirinji, shameless Kashumaavu,mud slinging Karuka, Vedinal, suicide prone Attumaruthu,Attuvanchi  who glides on the stream like a fallen shadow.

Mandaram  dressed in white, Vanna, brazen Mahagani, Karivelam doing the accounts,Jakarantha, Koombala, friendless Koovalam, Kattukamuku with his hands around friends, Kolli, Paruva,Krishnanaal with a crooked smile, Cocoa with no one to turn to, Cork,Palakapayyani, Pavizhamalli wearing necklace and bangles, a lonely Mazhamaram, Mangium, Mathalam exposing her *******, Chemmaram, Pashakottamaram, Malavembu, tearful Chamatha, Vatta, Vattakoombitired of running around, smoking Pine, Porippovanam, Kaaluvnthatherakam, Thembaavu, grinningDantaputri, Narivenga, Navathi, grumbling Mazhukkanjiram,Arayanjili,  Arayal playing a game with the wind.

Choola kissing the sizzling wind, Arinelli, Maavu reciting sadly the poem Mampazham,  Chandana vembu, Peraal stretching its back, Pulivaaka, Unnam, Naythanbakam,Karpooram in a slow glow, Naaykumbil, trumpeting Pongu, outcast Pottavaaka, bursting Poriyal, vagabond Ponthavaaka, Plaavu lost in some thought, Pootham  head covered , Ethappana  greening while yellowing, Manjadi, Mullanvenga, Mullilam lifting his dhoti to expose his genitals, Mullilavu hopping around, Moongappezhu, Neermaruthu saying enough is enough, withered Neermathalam ,Moottikkay, Ithi, Ithiyaal, Vella velam, Kalppayir, Kallar, Majakkadambu singing a lullaby, Choondappana wary of fish bones.

Stooping Punna, Matti scared of her big brother, Paarijaatham watching the midnight movie, Paalakal, Paali,Paarakam doing cartwheels, Viri, Athi showing off  her seeds,Ampazhammassaging his chest, Ayani inlove with her son, Manjakkonna, Manjamandaram in search of something, Chullithi with eyes closed, Kallilavu like an oozing rock, Malamandaram eyeing the vultures,Velleetti cursing the thunder, Venga,Veppu, Vraali, Akil, sighing Acacia,Balsa, Blanka, Beedimaram with a rattling cough,  Agasthi, Cherukonna with a sheepish smile, Kambali, woundedNagamaram.

Pathiri, touching his forehead to the ground, his eyes heavenward, Ankolam ruined by debts,Kattumarotti, Kundalappala, Aattumaruthu,Poovam, Erumanaakku, Karingotta, Vediplaavu his salary still unpaid, Venmurikku, Manjanaathi, Manimaruthu jolted awake, Mathagirivembu, Karaanjili  escorting his daughter, Karakongu,Karappongu, Ilippa on her way back, Ooravu half-awake after a dream and with a sucker smile, Ennappana about to immolate himself, fattened  Ennappine,Azhantha waiting for someone, Chorapatri with a cracked head,Sheemappoola,Poovankara, Malampuli, Puli with sharpened stakes.

Obese Theettipplaavu,Malambongu, Chorimathimurikku, Irippa bailing out his friend, Irumbakamwho lost his job, Kunkumappoo, Karinthaali, Scoot, Rose Kadambu, Aamathali, Aarampuli,Attilippucaught in the crowd, Irul  blessed by the elders, Vellavatti, whistling Mula, Kattukonna in a hat, Kaniiram learning the alphabets, broker Cheru,Kattuchembakam exposing his arm pit,Thandidiyan, Neeroli, Ezhachembakam waiting for her bus, Karimbana in a newly constructed house, Karivenga,Karivali writing a poem, Ungu in a baby frock, Udi, Plasha, Elamaruthupromising to meet later, Chembakam dying to hug.

Vellakil who bathes the kids, Vellavaaka who forgot his umbrella, Attuthekku who failed the exam, lustful Aattunochi,Malanthudali with her legs spread, Malanthengu with chest ****** up,Malamanchadi who is learning to count, Malambarathi exposing her *******, intoxicated Aval, Arana reciting the poem Karuna, insane Alakku who dashes off to the temple, Cheru who cannot stop washing clothes, Kudappana ready to elope, irreligious Jaathi, Silver Oak laughing boisterously, Kattuveppu waiting for the kids, Sumami ******* on a toffee, annoyed Parappoola,frightened Pinar, Ithi stopping her ears at swear words, Ithiyal with lots of smiles, Kovidaram with music in his mind, Ilakkali showing her belly, blossoming Ilavu, Chadachi who ***** sadistically, cool fingered Chandanam.

dominating Charakkonna, office going Cheelanthi, Gulgulu glued to Kochu channel, Gulmohur with dyed hair, Irul with a fuming face, early rising Kanikonna, Kanala who has a sound sleep, Karingali  who pees standing, Kambakam with an ***** *****, Kallavi  beseeching to stuff her up, Karanjili  quivering in lust, calm Karaal, Kaari who hums while *******, Kaavalam who naps after the toil,Thannimaram showing off her petals, Thambakam kissing the ****, Thellipayar savouring a *****,Neerkurunda in post-****** languor, Malaya breastfeeding her kid, bullying Kathi, mad hat Eetti,Cheeni  not remembering his mom,  Kunnivaka showing his gums, Kuppamanja who laughs in sleep, Othalanga swallowing poison, blooming Poovarasu.

Spring went on,
reeling off names to me.
The rain the sun the wind and the cold
Rolled in one after the other.
Spring kept pulling out
names from its memory.

People got scared of
my poetry gone wild.
They stopped passing that way.

A snake goes slithering away.
A hare finds its own path and dashes away.
A poothankiri, from a bush, flies away.



(Trans from Malayalam by Ra Sh)
1.      Mampazham (Ripe Mango) is the title of a famouspoem by Vyloppilli.
2.      Karuna (Compassion) is the title of a long poemby Kumaran Asan.
3.      Poothankiri – A white headed babbler.
4.      Thanaaro - An obscene devotional song.
Tujhe chhoone par hai lagta
Tu jalti jwala re!
Tujhe niharne par lagta
Tu chaand ka tukda re!
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya
Ore Priya re!
Tere sang Tere sang ishq hua re!
Bana Dene jaisa lagti ** tum
Ek chitra!
Are munh tumhara ek
Paan ka patta
Bana Dee gayi lagti ** tum
Ek moorti!
Sach jaisi
Konark ki kala kirti
Tujhe padhne se lagti hai tu
Sach mein  ek kahani re
Tujhe gaane see lagta
Tu ek geet re!
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya tune
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya toone
Ore Priya re!
**** bhar Teri
Rajnigandha ki khushboo
Teri chaal mein
Raj hansini ka chhand!
Barasne jaisa pyar tumhara
Madhu ki varsha!
Sabhi or hoti hai
Bas teri hi charcha
Tujhe tolne par
Tu lagti
Ek phool re!
Tujhe dhaalne par lagti
Tu kuchh rang re!
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya toone
Ore Priya re!

Tere sang Tere sang ishq hua re!
Ghazal Jun 2012
Flavored hukkas are passed around,
Alcohol and paan bring the mehfil alive,
The Ustad ji sits down and flexes his fingers,
He knows he’ll be working all night.

Dha dhin dhin dha, dha dhin dhin dha
Na tin tin ta
Ta dhin dhin dha,
Move the Ustad ji’s fingers on the tabla.

While with a veil on her face,
And feet dipped in and henna-colored,
Lips in cheap red lipstick covered,
She unfalteringly, gracefully enters.

Her steps are matched by the chhan chhan
of the ghungroos tied around her ankles so slender.
Eyes set on her, feast on her youth,
Just right for the taste of all her customers.

Bejeweled hands placed on waist,
She stands at the centre of attention,
She lifts a foot, readies to dance,
And begins the nightly convention.

Skillfully, perfectly, sensuously move
Feet well-trained since childhood days,
Harmonizing with the timbre
That the Ustad ji creates.

Tin tin na dhin na dhin na
On the tabla, experienced fingers beat.
Chhan chhan chhan chhan,
She dances, repeating the rhythm with her feet.

Metal bells strike against one another
And chhan chhan chhan-a chhan she goes,
Making breaths prance and jump,
As she strikes on the ground her heels and toes.

Then suddenly she stops and gasps,
Over disgruntled, impatient groans she tries
to hear the sound that flows in, only to her ears.
Several rooms away, a baby cries.

Naach! A voice booms,
Arey naach! More join in.
A glass of wine is shattered by an irritated one.
But she stands still, clutching her chest, frozen.

One sways up to where she stands,
For the veil covering her face, his hands dive.
He uncovers her, but is blinded by the sight of her beauty
And her tears that fill her kajal-smeared eyes.

She’s shaken back to reality as she looks all around.
Her sparkling pall is off her face.
She sees all those drunk men who’ve paid to watch her dance.
She knows she has to make the sound of the cries fade away.

So she stomps her feet on the ground till it hurts.
Hair flying out of braid, bangles clanging,
Anguish replaces her innocent loveliness,
The music in the air is now shrill,  jarring.

Her steps match with the tabla’s rhythm no more.
But she dances, planting her feet so hard they weep.
She silences every sound with the noise of her ghungroos,
Praying that the night will lull her wailing son to sleep.
hukka- hubble bubble
paan- a food made from a betel leaf folded round pieces of betel nut and spices, that you chew like candy
mehfil- a gathering of people
ustad- a title of respect for someone who is very skillful, especially a musician
ji- used to show respect for someone
tabla- an Indian percussion instrument
henna- flowering plant used to dye the skin
ghungroo- a musical anklet tied to the feet of Indian classical dancers
naach- dance
kajal- kohl
ConnectHook Apr 2017
Six-armed things of Asiatic trances,
temple belles entwined in temple dances:
mantra in one hand, the other holds naan.
One holding chutney and the other, paan.
Two hands left (befitting of deity):
one offers curry, one incense.  Aseity
signifies self-contented wonderment.
(One wonders as well what that mantra meant...)

Note the third eye in the figure's forehead:
a spare one in case left or right go dead?
But really—how freakish these idols look:
a ******-pantheon from a nightmare book.
(Outdone only by the Aztecs for fright
along with demons born of tribal night.)

Cobra-crowned elephant-headed mutants
sickly-sweet incense, divine pollutants
mix in with the stench of bodies burning
alongside the filthy Ganges churning
flowing with ashes from funeral ghats
excrement, corpses of humans and rats
that swarmed humble hovels of Hindustan
where gods are mass-produced for fallen man.

Maidens in saris with red tinted lips;
glossy vulgarity, loose at the hips
now growing more arms; an insect vision
enough to make one gag on religion.
The ubiquitous trident looms, a sign:
the eternally present un-divine.
Instead, it ought to stick some sacred cow
in its bovine buttocks, and so allow
beef curry for a hungry avatar
craving fresh meat in his juggernaut car.

Turn from this antediluvian scene
in sincerity, ask: what does it mean?
Were you created in these gods' image?
Is anything real behind their visage?
Blue skin and sick smiles, anointed with ghee:
exotic... but wrong theologically.
Till lingams are yonis I'll spell it out;
these Aryan idols should merit your doubt.
Such weirdness deserves some analysis
(as did old Diana of Ephesus).

Would you tingle if such a god showed up
and offered to refill your soma cup,
sending siddhis up your spinal column
with you in full lotus, clueless, solemn.
Would you offer puja in their temple,
bedeck your soul in a robe to sample
veggie-masalas, chapatis and dal,
peruse the Upanishads, and enthrall
your mind with the mystic old Rig-Vedas
fall for idolatrous sin conveyed
as spiritual truth when it's just a big lie...
bow before a multi-armed freak?  Not I.
Not for all the visions in Satan's world.
Better to call B.S. than to be hurled
to hell for living and loving this lie
embracing monstrosities. By and by
the books will be opened. The Lord will judge.
Consider this your transcendental nudge
toward something less false, less fearfully fake
than the idols Antichrist nations make.
NaPoWriMo #15

TS Eliot
wrote highbrow literary
poetry (so-called)
Seema Aug 2017
The remover of all obstacles,
O' Vighnaharta
I fold my hands and bow my head,
In prayer
You've always been my key pilot
O' Vinayaka
I come to you with all my heart
O' Lord of Lords
My knowledge comes from thee
In abundance, you've shed your blessings
Upon me
I offer my soul, my lifes all deeds
To thy feet
Hail O' Datta
I welcome you in my life everyday
At this Ganesh Utsav
I request you to visit me today
With your favorite dessert and flavouries
I've decorated a plate,
Sweet ladoos, modak, paan and durva
With this red velvet hibiscus garland and flowers
I am standing here waiting at the gate
In the temple, inside my soul
Where blossoms the energy to carryout my role
Dear Father,
You never disappoint your devotees
In this aeon of cycle, on this earth and beyond
You'll always be my protector
Coz my soul shares a devotional infinite bond
With you,
Ganpati Bappa Morya...

©sim
Lord Ganesh, is the elephant head God in the Hindu religion. He is the vanquisher of obstacles.
For those celebrating this auspicious occasion "Ganpati Utsav", May your problems subside and shores with solutions.
Please no criticism :)
Tamal Kundu Dec 2016
Lost in the desert at night, a maze of stairs reveals the myth.
Neon sign, beside a paan-red smile, pairs—revealing the myth.

Clotho has ringlets, Lachesis slanted eyes, Aisa laugh lines,
Weaving tapestry of rapturous affairs, reveal the myth.

Who plays the distant sārangī? Who pours the quenching nectar?
Falling into stride behind Inanna's heirs reveals the myth.

Those intimate moments trace the tangible warmth on her skin.
In proud destitution, a desire she wears: reveals the myth.

Sand trickles through his anxious fingers, the mirage disappears.
At dawn fugitive memories Tashir bears. The revealed myth.
Form: Ghazal
Aryan Sam Apr 2018
Kina kuj chal reha
Kina kuj hor chlna he

Eh dila di gal c
Mukadra di ban ke reh ***

Kujteri galti c
Kuj meri galti he
Baki rola sab jaata paata da
Jo ishq na pura ** sakde

Kuj tu dari c
Kuj me darda c
Kuj darde c sade maape
Me kiwe samjawa
Ki beet rahi mere naal
Nitt marda ha teri ik jhalak paan de lai
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
*** yir ******* skids outta
m'ah 'uckin feece!

god i love that place,
glasgow is like birmingham
of the north...
  a rotten scow to nowhere,
unless it be a place that
spoke: deep-fried mars bar
for breakfast -
you scurvy worth of
the tangled sailor! ****!

gods took to the twallop,
and i takes me to the
rool ups!
       got a bargain with a shrimp
you belfast *****?
           my **** you 'av!
next time they sing: sweet dover,
i'll have you marrying the *****
cult of: shard!
   ye storm ah heed!
**** me an' timber twice:
V fooking eye of ye, hire-crane!
******* twice,
   three times removed
the drunk... huh?!
   it's all plus minus with me by
now...
         ha ha!
had a cousin, didn't say why,
cursed & numbed the cuss words
like a nun ought to know why...
  so i says me:
     lingua the leash - earn the ir -
softspot for the tucker-jacks
and the irish lepers: shauns they
called them...
         he he...
look at me:
  all smug and waiting
for brussel sprouts out the paan tree...
what's with these wallaby terms?
    panchree? panna quinoa, panna cotta?
******* as clingy as those pepsoowongs,
or wangs or pepsoos.

as the english queers say
   F F Θ, but then pull out a churchill -
and vey v girman vey such & such...
they and way become indistinguishable -
churchie and the welsh abbey become
one and the same with either V
as "peace", or the V and the welsh
longbowmen *******...

       v'eh point... wayward: too soon...
   vuck!  
  wook?
       wookie?
      va va voom!
           woonder-brum, brimming,
bra bra bra... ha ha ha...
    dried it all off with the giggles...
then it became apparent:
the man settled for the dozen,
whether it was a dozen of ostriches,
hyenas,
   bunches of lychee,
       leaks,
               bulgarian strippers -
or worse...
   a dozen of english rhetoricians,
notably gay;
                     ****... what a gamble.
Gargi Apr 2019
A Monginis Cake Shop flex hangs
above a hardware and electronics store
and a man in front of it
speaks loudly into his phone,
trying to explain this his location,
slapping the other hand on his forehead.

Another man, this one on a scooter
going slower than a public transport bus
has his helmet resting in the front
between his feet
instead of on his head.
(Is this blatant disregard for life
or staggering confidence about it?)

An old Nauvari-clad woman
bearing a big vermillion stain on her forehead
innocently spits her paan on a
Clean Mumbai, Green Mumbai graffiti.

I get up to go stand
at the front door
and someone else takes my seat.

They will see a skinny girl
typing furiously into her phone
this very poem.
paan = beetle leaf
Adya Jha Aug 2017
I speak from the landfills, dumpsters and gutters
I speak from the corners you ignore
Because you don't want to acknowledge your contributions
You know you add to it more
Everytime your car passes
Your inner voice rants and screams
But you look the other way
And scrunch your nose up silently
No one wants to make a move
While we live in our fantasies
Away from the rag-pickers and sewage cleaners
Who segregate our waste for a mere salary
Who clean our **** while we throw some more at them
Who are not treated as human
We just want to get rid of things so we throw
Throw on the road, in the rivers and lakes
In the forests, in other peoples' place
We urinate and spit red paan on walls
We do our business on railway platforms
We live in a such a mess
We are such a mess
Our ideology is as filthy as these places
So I'm sorry, for such a disturbing poem
But it's time you better be disturbed
"Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny..."
70 years ago, these were Nehru's words
srijan Mar 2020
INDIA is the coolest place
Being here is not a disgrace
Home of Bollywood
Indian version of Hollywood
Delicious , mouth watering food
Biryani makers my mouth drool
And no one should forget Chaat, Paan and sweets
It is seriously worth taking a tour
home of Taj Mahal and many more
it has the best judiciary to make sure no one breaks the rule
Apples in Kashmir are the best
Once you eat one you won't rest
do you know what I am talking about?
Yes, it is my country INDIA
Aryan Sam Apr 2018
Thanks heena ji
Supne de wich aan lai
Menu ghut ke haffi paan
Lai
Menu seene de naal naal
Lag ke ron den lai

Bahut bahut thanks sapne wich aan lai
Sala sakoon ja mil gea hug krke
Aryan Sam Mar 2018
Meri koshish hamesha hi
Bekar *** he
Pehla tenu paan di
Te ***
Tenu bhulAn di
3 am, swer de 3 waje hoye ne te u dia yaadan ta g kar rahiya ne. Me kade nai si sochea ki ena tang hounga me. Kade nai si sochea ki eda boj dil te ** jaunga mere.
Mohd Arshad Apr 2019
The harrowing obligation is done.
Everyone has left him to his fate.
But for those sunk in grim gloom,
Some chew paan, some smoke,
While other keep their tongues
Rotating on fun and laghuter.
On the way they halt for cuppa,
Or jalebi or to shave their stubble.
What about his interview? Nobody
Knows and no one will know, never.
ALKA JAIN Aug 2020
The gully(lane) is a favourite haunt,
of men who have so much to want-
from over-decorated, rugged dolls.
With eyes brimmed with blackened kohl(eye-liner),
discoloured lips, like worn-out soles.
They place inside- a stinking mattress for you to roll.
They hold the edge of tattered sheets,
Adding up as curtains to hide what’s raw.
In shabby nighties- pretending
to hide what protrudes for show.
Their weathered faces, that wrinkled nose,
That crooked smile, their luring pose.
Their men stare musing, with Paan(betel- leaf)- stained mouths,
“It’s the woman’s luck! That’s what she’s for.”
The nameless children tug along,
In fatherless homes, where they belong.
Their half-shut eyes, under the bed,
Where strangers all night pay and throng.
That smell, that odour, deep and strong....
Of men who sweat out all day long. And also those who look like dirt-
strewn on roads; just one furlong.
The women sit tight,
On broken charpoys(jute beds).
And in their earnings- what  rejoice!
Discuss intrigues of last night’s meet, unabashedly, as if, by choice.
All those who visit these gullies at night,
Do let your women be out of sight,
For an hour too long in darkened lanes,
And then, see them in same old light.
Watgunge is a location in Kolkata.
Watgunge is an area in Kolkata, a city in India, known as the " red light " or *** workers area. My contention in the poem is that why society is so prejudiced against these women when they themselves have forced these vunerable women in this trade, use them and then shrink away!
Salmabanu Hatim Jun 2020
On my birthday my wife and I took my mum to see a movie,
Then we went to the restaurant she loved to go when I was a child,
We ordered all her favourite dishes,
She always loved the sea so we went for a long drive along the bay,
Lastly we had icecream and  betel leaf  sweet paan which she relished in glee,
I have never seen mum so happy and glow.
It was the day I was born and that day was very special for her too,
As we grow older we forget the sacrifices our mum makes for us,
Thanks to my understanding wife I made my mum so happy.
22/6/2020

— The End —