Photos Speak
Dragging me these old pictures
In to my by gone days
They are decayed in course of time, though
The pictures have a lot to speak
Of the love and ardor towards
A girl resided next to my door
But a picture is essential not
For reminiscing about those sweet memories
Of all those love and ardor
As it is solidified as a thick layer of sediment
In the deep depth of my mind
And it keeps on jolting me in my darks
Oh! My Girl, you have never been a girl
In my forgotten corner of mind, thus far,
You are with me, as the shadow of mine
Wherever I am
Ever since you walked off
To reunite in our next birth
Feb.20,2009.
poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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Rainbow Expressions
Hazy and misty sky turns (into) bright
Sun shines faintly in the rain ere long
Lovely girl’s lovely eyes
Twinkle with amazement
Beholding the colorful rainbow in the sky
The swaying boughs and woods get in the way
Of the view of the pretty bow in the sky
Wishes the lovely sevenfold be watched
Amply out in near vicinity
Wishes the rain be suspended soon, she prays
Slumbers the rain as sudden
As her prayers are answered by her Lord
By leaps and bounds the little girl nips out
Of her confines joyfully to see her rainbow
But, Stands she still! Looking up the sky
And numb with shock! Give herself
Up to a feeling of utter despair
And she realizes unto
Her pretty rainbow is no more there and
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poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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Reflection
Slouching beside my parents
A shabby shriveled bloke
Wrapped himself in a rug worn
Laden with a bulky bag torn
Unfolding his bulky carryall
‘Showcasing’ couple of his works
Animated with the literary styles
And so musical with the themes!
Jibes from the parents & verbose he became
Coaxing them, with the recitals repeat
And so bared the similes, couplets & metaphors
Wide eyes wrestling with the prospective buyers
………………………………
………………………………
Though decades and decades passed, while
Posting my poems on poetry site
Requesting attention of members agog, occasionally
Reflecting somewhere deep inside
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poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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Convinced Me She is….
Is she an angel?
I asked the stars
They were dubious
The angelic smile,
The ruddy cheek and
Divine magnanimity
Convinced me she is…
Is she a glacier?
I asked the arctic mountains
They were too, dubious
The radiant beauty,
The well carved and
The blazon sculptured features
Convinced me she is…
Is she an icy mountain stream?
I asked the icy mountains
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poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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Made for Each Other
I remember the first day I met you,
I caught a glimpse of your face far in the crowd,
Glowing in the diffused golden twilight,
I strode in the seething mass to be near you.
I remember the day I met you again,
You frowned at me in response to my smiling, though,
Ardent longing for your love was burgeoning, I realized,
Aloft flew wishes of a moment alone for you and me, anon.
I remember the day I met you again,
You flung a glowing smile to me and walked away,
And you fondled me again by eying me furtively paces after,
A golden era was blossoming out as ever I wished.
I remember the day we lusciously conversed,
Your sweet rippling still echoes again and again,
Many a time exchanged our thoughts of love at our rendezvous,
By the sweet singing, lonesome, white, rippling brook.
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poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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The Bird Watcher (Part 1)
I plod through the leafy woods
The shadowy, coolly rain forest at the dale
Harkening the spellbinding tunes of trills
Watching the vividly coloured pretty fowls
Echoes of those feeble (But aloud) chirrups twinging me
Of those little birds I encaged in my early ages
Were all tremulous and dolorous sobs, but
Misapprehended unto chant sweet songs of rollicking
Encaging the birds is remorselessness
To set all those confined birds free, now I wish,
To let them spread their wings beneath the skies
And dry out their invisible tears in the fresh breeze of the freedom
The red and blue Macaws, the Golden Pheasants….
The birds of passage,
The settlers for the time being,
Blossom the trees with lurid variance of colours
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poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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The Bird Watcher (Part 2)
After a day long traverse far and wide
In quest of the secrecy of my pretty aves
I back in the tree house in the sanctuary for the night
While they are ensconced in the high tree fastness for the night
The weald is engulfed by the milky moonlight
And it is glistened with the dewdrops
It is unparalleled and distinctive in the moonlight
The picturesque prospect over the dale from the tree house
I am harkening a sadden serenade from afar
That breaks through the serenity of the moonlit valley
A lonely cock sings for his lost hen on their passage, perchance,
Expecting their reunion in next to no time, fervently
It’s getting feebler and feebler, as through
Ebb and away and away... far and far from me ….
There comes a flock of lovely birds, Spotted in
Dazzling silver and gold, the insignia of heavenly colours
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poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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Smudge of Blood
Here, this smudge of blood,
Of a tender boy of eleven,
Soaked thru the tarmac,
Yet to be dried, still wet and warm!
An innocent young lad,
Fades-in my mind,
Your bag! Your bag!
Picking up a shopping bag,
Shouting and chasing the biker,
Who slings the bag into the crowd,
And cruises at a high speed.
Shouting repeatedly in vain,
Albeit he ran a bit far away from the crowd,
Your Bag! Your Bag!
Still shouting...
Oh! Sudden, the shopping bag explodes
Shredding in to pieces, the poor boy.
Scattering around his fresh flesh all over.
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poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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Retrace
Trills of the birds
Arouse him up in the morn.
The feeling of lethargy
Restrains him from getting up of his comfort
He pulls the glitzy quilt over
Cuddle the pillow and huddle
Try to take a zizz – in vain
Despite the wakeful night
Followed in the wake of roars of thunders
Perpetual pouring rain and baneful gale
He rolls out and draws the curtains
It is nippy and, still, drizzling out
Mist and fog smothered far and wide
Faintly visible a pair of flitting Kingfishers
On the sagged branches of the bougainvillea
The trills are aloud and melodious, though.
He slouches at the window and gazes at
The river flowing hard by, awhile
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poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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The Notion
Old age knocked on my door and enjoined
‘Over, your stint in the desert’
Obeyed, though my reveries remain unfulfilled
Oddments of my odds and sods are wrapped up to carry along
Being the remnant of my bygone age
In the reduced and straggled circumstance
The nook in this room may have a lot to tell the next
Of my grieves and pains, though I portrayed to be jovial
As it might have overheard my weeps and whimpers
When pang of loneliness crushed me in the shadows of the nights
Throng of memories spring to mind while leaving my den
Of yore, for the land of bliss and delight, I left all my nearest and dearest
It was on the later part of a dull and damp day
The sun was hidden, as he was too fighting back tears so I was.
The burning days were unbearable
The summer days in the promising land
Toiled away beneath the fiery cruel sun, but
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poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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