"sunil" poems
After a thoroughly enjoyable weekend
Which involved watching an animated science fiction thriller
Followed by a Football World Cup Final
Which turned out to be even more thrilling
I had to face the dreaded prospect
Of returning to work on a Monday
Yes, the notorious villain of the week
Which can ensure sleepless nights
Even for the strongest souls
Well, the day was actually not that bad
To begin with, at least
After a hot bath
Followed by an even hotter cup of filter coffee
Prepared by my dear mother, as ever
I had a simple breakfast
Consisting of a plate of chapatis
Mixed with some rather tangy marmalade
Thus, I was ready
To face the grind of work
Or at least, I thought I was
The reality turned out to be as different
As apples and oranges
It started with a few phone calls
However, the response was not flattering
Thus, I headed to lunch
In the hope of making some progress
In the second half of the day
However, I couldn't have been more wrong
The phone calls failed to achieve their purpose
As I was unable to obtain slots
For the interviews to be scheduled
Moreover, I was dealing with multiple stuff
At the same time
Which proved to be even more difficult
Than obtaining a seat in one of the IIMs
Time was playing a cat-and-mouse game with me
The closer I got to him
The more he would evade me
As the hours flew by
I kept meandering aimlessly
Without achieving anything tangible
By the time I finally got the hang of work
It was already well past 6 PM
And I felt as though I had wasted more time
Than a certain Sunil Gavaskar had done
In his infamous innings of 36 not out, off 175 *****
In the inaugural 1975 Cricket World Cup
Thus, I was thoroughly relieved
When the day finally ended
Returning to work on a Monday
Especially after a thoroughly enjoyable weekend
Is never good
Full stop
Dec 19, 2022
Dec 19, 2022 at 10:59 AM UTC
You're a Teacher first and a Parent second
As a father, you're doing great every second
You have always been true
And knew the right thing to do
No matter how much negativity surrounds you
We wonder how do you manage to
Forgive the ones who hurt you
You gave us everything from the bottom of your heart
We inherited our love for badminton, cricket, and art
The love you gave us and the values you taught
Are so priceless and can never be bought
Here's your Birthday song, "My Dad, My Hero"
Because without you, we are nothing but a Zero
>><><><><><<
Prem Kumar Tunuri
Sunil Jaikar Tunuri
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
Bring your empty words
I will re-charge them again
And make them potent;
The hollow words---
Bring them to me and
I will make them sing,
In the summer afternoon
On the glistening lips of
The workers in sweat
Working on construction sites;
Bring your faded words
I will make them shine in the forge
Of blacksmith whose sinewy hands
Will form them into forms that appeal;
Bring your sad words,
I will make them smile
On the faces of war-orphans
Street children
And cancer patients,
Because when sterile words
Of poetry come into contact
With unsaid suffering of the
Larger silent humanity,
They become fiery,
Gleam,
Mesmerize and
Truly become
The sweat-soaked words and entire syntax
Great transcendental poems!
@Sunil Sharma
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
A few drivers,
mid-summer afternoon
lean against the divider,
paint peeling
some perch on it lightly---
indulge in hot group-talk;
the waltzing-shadow
of a banyan tree
opposite side of the
auto-rickshaw stand---
a street-art, delicate, dark-hued;
the phantom arms
hug
the disparate crew
in a tight family-embrace,
its breath tousling their hair
and it---
protects them from
the Mumbai heat!
@Sunil Sharma
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 8:00 AM UTC
---Sunil Sharma
Here she eyes
the poet and the photographer
hiding in the bush
or lurking somewhere
or, maybe behind
a glass-window shut
like a typical ******
pointed ears pricked up
eyes glittering but not cold
as depicted in a horror tale
the bushy tail---fan and broom
to clear the muck around
the long snout primed up
for unusual smells
especially---
of two-legged threats
the lady fox
much demonized
in the human world
free in the wilds
like a bird
ready for the ramp-walk
in the jungle,
her---daily theater!
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
The disembodied
Voice from the
Sisters’ counter
Echoing down the twisted corridor:
Ma left yesterday. The house, no house.
Wanted to do the night duty.
At least, got some company here.
@Sunil Sharma
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 9:03 AM UTC
if i were to ask
if you'd prefer the truth
over happiness, would you take
the red pill or the blue?
in *Your Heart is a Muscle
the Size of a Fist*, Sunil Yapa
writes, "care too much
and this world will **** you cold."
but there is no greater love
than this: i'll lay my life down
for both strangers and friends.
it's true what the adages say.
knowledge may yet yield power,
but most find bliss
in fictitious myths.
the tyranny of dead deities
cajoles the soulless, self-inflicted
ignorance claps the mind in shackles,
a brain neutered by obedient acquiescence.
there is a somber courage in sobriety.
i'll deny until i die, defying the urge
to idolize a substance that distracts
the mind from misery. i choose to question
everyone and everything,
even if a clear-head invites
utter agony. conviction is certainly
a long and lonely road, but our integrity
is the very last inch of us and—within
that inch—we are free.
so steadfast, i remain
a stone anchored to the riverbed
by the weight of gravity and the rushing
tides eroding me. we'll stand strong
in solidarity with all those suffering,
opposing the specter of dominance, illusory
as a phantom, ephemeral as the passage
of time. i'll unleash an omnipotent psyche,
inspired by the insight found in the closing lines
of a punk and artist's call-to-arms:
pursue what haunts you.
if the truth terrifies you, good.
that is precisely what veracity
ought to do.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
End of Drama
Mom
It’s elder sister’s sobbing voice
The face was swollen and reddish
It made me sad
What’s that speech
What will happen to you
When we die
In near future
To where you run away
Tell the truth
Dad seemed annoyed
He beat her
For the first time
Sister started moaning
I can’t wake up early
To prepare his lunch
She muttered
Dad smiled
With a sarcastic look
I saw him phoning
To someone
I’ll have my lunch from outside
I saw her husband
Stroking her head gently
The situation changed
Laughing and happiness
We all looked at the couple
Leaving home together
Embracing each other
Like a newly married couple
Sunil Algama November 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
On a power cable
trembling
before the wind
that plays havoc with trees and tiles
of cottages and hovels
a typical feudal lord, violent
power-drunk, indifferent;
Up there, on that throne---
sits a lonesome Kingfisher
regal, haughty, detached
from the ground zero
a visitor from the far-off heavens
a pleasing sight
on this rushed
Mumbai early- morning.
a creature, tiny, vibrant
dressed in a multi-coloured coat
worn earlier
by an agile harlequin
doing acrobats in an Italian court,
for the seventeenth-century audience;
the feathered guest
lightly sitting
on that high perch
a stoic
silhouetted against the
immensity of a dark-grey sky
threatening rain.
@Sunil Sharma
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 11:25 AM UTC
You can try to justify your policies
that is not what bothers me,
what bothers and is bothering me is
the fact you can decide on a policy
that affects our liberty,
is this democracy?
I cannot decide nor decipher whether
it's hot air or just bluster, but
buster
you'd better be aware
we all live here and I don't care if
Sunil speaks Tamil or gobbledygook.
I suspect this is not about the language
and more to do with the way people look.
j
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
Returning to work
After a rather enjoyable weekend
Is hardly something to rejoice about
Especially when you are handling Recruitment
And particularly when you work in a startup
A startup that supposedly gives you freedom
Freedom for the employer, that is
To keep nagging his employees
From time to time
But not freedom for the employees
To work as per their convenience
You feel like a balloon
Pressed on all sides
By the boss, candidates and clients
One false step
And Boom! you are back to square one
And left with a mountain to climb
At the speed of light
You know, though, what's the worst part?
It's the uncertainty
Whether it be in finding relevant resumes
Or speaking to a bunch of candidates
And trying to convince them
Or, if you do somehow manage to convince someone
Waiting for him/her to share the CV
Is like watching that infamous innings of Sunil Gavaskar
In the 1975 World Cup
It kills you from inside
Such that, you just can't wait
For a miracle to happen
Which involves the client
Uttering the magic words
"This position is temporarily on hold"
Aug 16, 2022
Aug 16, 2022 at 8:41 AM UTC