Thoughts On A Fallen ' Paarijaatham ' Flower.

thoughts on a fallen 'paarijaatham ' flower.

&

i was wading through my vague thoughts

as i walked along the roadside-

i came to senses with a sudden start-

o god! i was about to tread on a small flower

full of grace and simple beauty with a mild fragrance-

it is considered a holy flower;

it is 'paarijaatham' or ' pavazhamalli '

with one 'cm' orange stalk

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Million Thanks Even For The Tiniest Shadows!

I will croon million 'thanks' on my journey
For even the tiniest shadow
That the smallest plant spreads underneath!

Gain I will a thousand wings of 'hopes'
Out of the joyous smile of a cute little flower
From atop the swaying tufts of grass!

I will lovingly scatter many a poem on my way
In honour of even the smallest puddle on wayside
That perfectly mirrors the nature's beauty in its heart!

With all my heart will I shower my blessings
Whenever, on my way, see a small bud laughing in glee
Just after the silent unfastening of the knot on its petals!

If I have to meet a weeping bud
Disfigured by the trampling of a heartless mind
I will hug it close to my heart in my surging pain!

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Whenever I see birds caged in a home!

Whenever I see birds caged in a home-
With small colourful birds behind the bars
Screaming pathetically and crying for freedom
Fluttering their wings in a feverish pitch
Not caring for the seeds or the cup of water inside
And wounding their wings and beaks
As they dash against the unyielding bars
With full of fright, anger and despair in eyes
Wasting what little energy they have in futile attempts
Cursing their fate amidst the heartless owners
Who boast to all visitors of their love of birds
Proudly stating as their presentation to their children-.
I fume and call upon God to curse their dear children
For a life behind sturdy prison bars at once
To let them learn the hardest way a caged life!
I declare now that anyone who enjoys caged birds
Assures a prison sentence for his descendants
And acquire a disease that would torment him at every step
And he would never have a peaceful life or death!
Oh..how cruel it is to see in markets tens of rare breeds

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Panguni Has Opened Its Doors To The Hot Bright Sun

'Panguni', the last chamber of the Indian year
Has opened its doors to the hot bright Sun!
'Maasi', the penultmate month had been cooler
With the Sun merciful even at eight a.m.;
Now even daybreak Sun pinches hard the flesh;
And blackens our skins with its molten silver!
Yet this is the season of 'Spring', the glory of colours!
The body rains oceans even when the day is just a toddler!
Everywhere there is thirst and sighs of tiredness!
Fear lurks every soul about still to come Summer's might!
The Sun is more thirsty chasing hot every dropp of water!
The water is on its fast heels and takes refuge into the caves of earth!
Yet this is the glorious season of Spring for us;
On the first Full-Moon day of Panguni-
The 'Festival of Colours', 'the holi' is on celebration mode
In every nook and corner of India, bathing itself in myriad colours
And in sprightly dance and boisterous laughter in total abandon!
A very true representation of Spring's colourful blooms!
It is the evening of the Spring that is glorious more;
The Wind awaits the last ray of the Sun to extinguish

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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These Are Ever My Favourites!

These Are Ever My Favourites!


The cool fluffy clouds that rush in
Out of nowhere to fill the skies
Just at the sight of the full milky moon
To passionately plant kisses on its cheeks
Are ever my favourites of nature!

All species of birds with numerous notes of calls
That unfurl their coloured wings
In enchanting styles of their own
And circling in brisk flights minding ever their tasks
Are ever my favourites of nature!

The great mountains towering into the skies,
That are the prides of the earth,
Sloping gracefully in their dreamy blue coats
And in the charm of the meditative silence
Are ever my favourites of nature!

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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O My Baby..Where Had You Gone ? [ Part -2 ]

[ Part-2 ]

With a longing i gaze at my belly
And caress fondly the place you lived so far;

I am traumatised by the hot tongues of lava
That lick to ashes all inside me...

The steam puffs up out of my eyes;
From nostrils two angry snakes hiss out;

All the ten months i dearly held the 'veenaa'
And on its golden strings
I wrote you ' my poem '!

I played poet Bharathi's 'chinnanj chiru kiliyae '
And fed you with the tasty 'Tamizh' through 'veenaa ';

Intoxicated in its melody
Did you fall into irretrievable sleep?

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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What Is True Devotion?

What is true devotion?

He is a farmer-

His means may not be much;

Not highly literate

To know by heart

The hymns and compositions

Of great seers and sages

Or of religious poets

To roll out in animated devotion

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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We Are Nudes Of Reality!

We Are Nudes Of Reality!
[This poem is a monologue from one of the four toiling labourers of the statue of labour, the only wonderful piece of art on stone among the plenty of lifeless statues that dot the famous marina beach of chennai, on a hot day when i stood saluting these
three-quarter naked labourers giving there all to shift a huge rock]
********************

This is not the eyes' restful closure in sweet dreams-
But these are the tightly pressed eyelids
By the trampling of the hooves of reality
In their furious dance on our lives!

Dreams..?
How would they be..?

We-
The nudes of realities.!

Look...!
These sliding jewelleries of sweat
Are the salty juices wrung hard by realities!

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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O My Baby! ..Where Had You Gone? [ Prologue ]

-The Prologue-

Emotions-Intellect;
How many many relentless duels between these two characters!

Emotion-
It is a molten fire ever on pouncing feet!

Intellect -
Ever on slow steady measured movements!

In the blind ferocity of emotion's eruptions....education, culture,
equanimity...all would drown, demoralize, crumble and crash!

It is a fact that emotions care or leave nobody in their trail of destruction...respect none also!

Only when the emotions slowly subside...only after their boisterous rush recedes, then only one could see the imprints of the intellect.

A Mother-
A very high intellectual personality...with a research degree in a renowned foreign university..marrying an equally competent scholar as husband in the same golden land.

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Oh Maid..! The Creator Of My Verses..!

Oh maid!
Who are you?

Hey..the creator of verses!
Even in the stuffiness of the peak-hour bus
You freeze me into an ice-sculpture!
What sleight of hand is this?

Like the sportive wind
Which ripples through the lush green fields
You snake waves of thrill in my heart!

Hey.!
Who is that peerless sculptor?
How did he carve out your alluring body?
Was it with the chisel of poem?
How did he fix your complexion?
Was it not by dipping his brain
In the brilliant hues of the dawn horizon?
How did he clothe your peace-reigning soul?

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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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