Mycoo: 21
no Krishna to save
Mother Earth - stripped
of her green sari
[Notes: In the epic of Mahabharata, Dusshasana, the accomplice brother of the evil and greedy Duryodhana tries to strip Draupadi, the polyandrous wife of the Pandavas in the royal court, as a fallout of a fraudulent game of dice. Lord Sri Krishna, at a far away place, hears her wailing supplication and turns her sari indefinite in its length and protects her honour.]
[Feb 26,2009: : Hyderabad – 500 056]
poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri
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My Dear Angelina
You’ve in you something luring and unique.
A daylong stroll with you to the cool creek
Through thick verdant and fragrant sunlit woods
Ensconces me into ecstatic moods.
My high on that wave of beatitude
Would well transform into a silver moon
In the late night’s sensuous solitude
Into your lap and embraces to swoon.
The mood to pen a dulcet lyric
With notes, tunes and melodies Delphic
Oh, my sweet darling Angelina
On your ageless magic charisma.
Your empyrean arousal,
Oh what a great carousal!
What then in gratitude can I this amorist give back?
Except myself birth after birth for this heavenly pack!
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poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri
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Mount Of Venus
Oh, yonder where, ah, my angel virgin!
The seed of my romantic origin.
Why the lesser lime cordiale and gin
When I’ve your jars of ambrosial fountain?
The sweet nothings with me you warmly share
The romantic murmurs you whisper bare
The arcana with sweet moans you divulge
The tickling ruminations we indulge
Wow, the seductive notes you bill and coo
Leave me with little chance but you to woo
And your aphorisms of love intense -
A virile potion to my lyric sense
Never we’ve seen each other even once
Yet vibes and waves and mystifying breeze
Connect us both as if by a séance
Of torrid telepathy that could please
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poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri
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Our Garden Of Eden
If something was there, I would undertake a walk
However long or arduous. I wouldn’t e’er balk
In search of a poet like you so romantic
For I believe in your pen, as it’s authentic
Minds have married and hearts have cooed, wooed and whispered
A walk shoulder to shoulder will have well inspired
A romantic epic with values redefined
For you and me to eagerly seek out and find
A garden of Eden with a blissful bower
No taboos, no barriers, no sins to cower
You and I will have nothing on in us between
Nothing, not even a leaf, believe me, my queen
Let the trees and bushes have on them every leaf
So that we can cool our heat in their unlit shade
And regain our warmth by high rocking and rolling
Then crooning, cuddling, fondling, necking and pecking
Let’s become one in body and soul with naïf
Our intercourse, a synergic Elysian grade
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poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri
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Rakhi Broadband: Verbal Cartoons
[ Intro: Raksha Bandhan or Raakhi is an annual Hindu festival which falls on a full-moon day. In 2009, it fell on Aug 05. Raksha Bandhan means bond of protection. Though it mainly takes place between a brother and a sister, it can be between any set of two persons, irrespective of their relationship, gender and social status. The sister visits her brother and ties a band (called Raakhi) on his wrist seeking his love and protection. The brother, in turn, pledges to honour her wishes. Sisters present brothers with sweets, and brothers please them with some good gifts. This festival offers many twists and turns. And here are a few verbal cartoons capturing some such hilarious scenes at the end of the day.]
(1)
Only one rakhi on his wrist
Seeing the clustered wrists of his friends
He sobbed and sobbed
For want of more
(2)
A pile of rakhis up to his shoulder
Yet he cried bitterly:
“Every girl calls me brother
None, lover! ”
(3)
Only sister
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poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri
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Labouring Under Child Labour
A child is born out of labour.
A child is sent to school
And made to recognise
Read, recite, and write
Draw, count, and play.
The child undergoes labour
In all these movements
Of mind and limb
Whether he likes it or not.
If a child learns too fast
And sets a precocious record
In his studies or GK
Or in singing or dancing
Or in acting or in a sport
You laud him as a prodigy.
A school child is made
To work or wait for hours
Under the scorching sun
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poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri
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A Tryst with the Terrorist
The Prologue
'The terrorist began to speak...'
'How can a terrorist talk
When his only words are bombs? '
'Well, he did speak all the same...
In my haunted dreams, of course:
The Monologue
Does a lion dialogue with his prey?
He just charges and strikes his quarry.
Why should I tarry?
I'd simply finish off
Anyone whose face I detest.
I should be the master
Of all I survey.
The universe is for man alone
Strongest of them only reign here
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poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri
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Hooray February!
I love February
because it’s a brewery
of chilly winter
and sunny warmth.
I love February
because it isn’t a cocky first;
but only a modest next
like how I always prefer
taking a second row chair.
Likewise my car, hello,
is not a Uno, but an Alto!
I love February
because it’s the baby
of the promising January.
And with that promise
February bears March
with all its vernal vibrancy.
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poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri
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