"wayanad" poems
A piece of heaven.
6.5 acre rectangle shaped land, which
situated vicinity to kozhickode mysoore
national highway.
The greenery hill view in the rear side.
Morning dawn through the hill valley.
soul catching sun rise, and cool zephyr
which pat leaves
and dancing with them,
tender leaves of tea plantation look
like green carpet.
all these salient features make once
each fraction of life to be happy
and relief
giving one…
the largest reservoir in asia
which constructed
out of mud
is situated proximity to the site.
Absolutely fit for resort.
Decide yourself!
Right now ! contact!
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Drums beat the endless chords
Of something that looks like an agony,
A vague aftermath of a smoky carcass.
The crowd remained enthralled or detached.
In excitement, in boredom and in unison.
They seemed to know the routine of celebration,
Of enjoyment,
Of the rejoice.
But still not eat at it,
into themselves.
They seemed to even echo their claps and nods so parallel,
To the rhythm,
That they all became another maestro
The deaf Beethovens.
While the elephant,
danced.
And sang.
In a pristine celebration only known to him.
Like the seducing dance of the King Cobra,
In the Jungles of a drenched Wayanad.
Green,
Yet so Aroused and red.
While nature became its charmer,
She,
the nature,
Juggled with the soul, vigour and energy of the King.
In one plate,
altogether,
The art,
The music,
And the rhythm became
The dirge of a new cemetery
of an old heaven.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC