The Visually Challenged

Like blinking lights, on-off, on-off 

Flickering lamps, wicks burning out

Nobody to pour in love

Nobody to keep it alive.

What if the lights fade out

And die,

What if the lamp goes dry

What does it matter to one

Born blind....

**********  Balachandran V, 16.11.2015, Trivandrum

Morsels of Love

Like the destitute child, hungry

Gazing at the goodies in the glass shelves

Hoping, that if he looks at it long enough

The glasses would melt

And those inside would come marching out

Straight at him –

Or, the shopkeeper, taking pity on him

Or to get rid of the pest –

Or a kind heart would buy one –

And

Throw it at him, ridding himself of the guilt –

The possibilities are many

For the beggar who cannot choose…

************* Balachandran V, Trivandrum 16.11.2015

The Hangout

At the click of the mouse -

History is on.

Switch off History

At the next.

At a click are gone -

Memories,

Love, longing

Rage, Sorrow

The moments you spent -

With me.

No, the next will not

Bring them back.

I shudder to think -

If in real, as in that virtual

You would flick - me off

With a click.

**********  Balachandran V, Trivandrum  12.11.2015

The Winds of Nagercoil

Like being hit by a speeding truck

And then, like a lover’s  gentle caress

The winds of Nagercoil blow

From the east, the west and all around.

Among the grass, the dragonflies veer-

Swing up and away and then twist

To drop: pummelled by the winds, they

Grapple with the twigs as if on a joyride.

The ponds ripple; little waves rise

Like young girls shivering at their lovers’ kiss.

The crows and doves like drunkards

Stagger in the air; the tall palms sway

Their leaves chatter, huddled close like kids

The green paddy, as far as the eye can see-

Undulating waves of a vast sea.

Then – the winds would drop

As suddenly as it blew.

Dead calm – and you wonder

If the winds were a dream,

A hallucination.

Nagercoil suits me fine.

Because, within me too,

The winds blow, blow, blow –

And die - all of a sudden...

*************  Balachandran V. Trivandrum. 11.11.2015

Eruptions of Love

In the mountains, high up in the grasslands

Where mist swirls; where every blade of grass

Is wet with dew –

Tread softly, for you are trampling upon beads of love.

Love erupts slowly, the moist soil swells –

As you watch, it surges, drips

Drop by drop.  Press your face onto the soil -

On your nose, your lips, your tongue

Love spreads into your blood.

Love erupts at the tips of your fingers, my love!

Caress my face, touch my lips!

Run your fingers over my ravaged face

Over my ageing skin; perhaps it will glow again

At your touch!

Love spurts, my dear, red beads of blood

As you tear into me in ecstasy!

Love, Love, as you hold me in your arms,

Flares fly high; I am blinded by the light!

Love flows only from your fingertips –

Touch me when you love –

And – before you leave, for ever…

****** Balachandran V, Trivandrum 03.11.2015

The Clam

The clam is a lucky creature
because it has a shell to go back to.
Or it has a shell to live in
Clammed, keeping others out.

The only problem being a clam
Is that people would pry it open
For a pearl or two
And would discard when disappointed.

It is indeed sad for the clam
To lie disembowelled, splayed,
Displaying all its innards
To all and sundry passing by...

************* Balachandran V. Trivandrum 01.11.2015

Borderline

Borderline is a thrilling word
Borders between countries
Evoking images of the drama at Vagha.

Borderline is ominous
The borderline between
sanity and insanity.

Borderline between friendship
and intimacy,
Bringing into focus
And blurring your vision, the line you step out
From restrained emotions to riotous expressions
of love.

To stand on the borderline
Is to hold your life in your hands
To decide to cross over or not.

Borderline is an exciting place to be -
Until, with an empty stomach in the morning
You are told by the pretty girl -
"Your blood sugar level is on the borderline!"

****************** Balachandran V 0730hrs 01.11.2015 Trivandrum