A Girl Who Sells Peanuts
She floats on the saffron shore,
Holding a bamboo basket.
Her heart beats
Within the shelter
Of peanut shells.
Toys and text books;
Picnics and pamperings;
All collided on a wall,
But death dropped her to be tossed.
The girl in a dirty frock –
She sells parched peanuts
For coins and eye pricks.
“Peanuts”, “Peanuts” – her withered call
Haunts her parents in the dungeon of grave.
Her pale figure walks away with Time Teacher.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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A Globule on the Colocasia Leaf
All unite, then one remains,
And now it vibrates
On the colocasia leaf
In the light noon wind.
It’s serene soon, and spreads a
Rainbow on the leaf
In the light sunshine.
It’s a tiny spectrum, which
Sparkles and fades as the
Sun rays come and go.
It’s a transient miracle, which
None can put on the palm
Without losing it’s splendour.
It’s the purest rain globule,
On the colocasia leaf,
Like a thought drop, which
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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The Wayside Dancers
Never miss,
When SANDRA bar you pass,
The wayside dancers
At twilights stinking rums.
Without ways
To bear sweltering rays,
Tender hearts
Dived in to chilly liquors.
As snake charmer on his pipe plays,
The serpent sways,
So do sots, whose daily wages
Steeped in rums.
Lean wives
With sorrows maculated visages
Wait their heroes
Return as villains.
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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My Dad's Spectacles
Thick frame, thin glasses,
An old spectacles,
A keep sake,
An inheritance rarest
From my dad dearest.
Crises, tensions, frustrations…..
Struggles, triumphs, delights…..
On my dad’s spectacles
Life its imprints left,
Which often I felt alone left.
Betrayed never;
Guided ever;
Mate of eyes;
Nothing could part,
Except an attack on heart.
Once, he saw me,
Now, him I see,
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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Return Journey to the inception of my memory by an auto rickshaw
Auto rickshaw, a carriage
Like a tortoise
Returns
Along my obsolete graveled
Road.
Auto rickshaw rolls on;
My bucolic had
Rocked
Mirth of a birth,
Rapturously.
Auto rickshaw passes by
Nuptial Hall, where
Bride,
With dowry gold, was
Bartered.
Auto rickshaw pauses before
Rural maze, where
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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A Wreath on the Tiles Factory
Lips of a chimney
always puff
gray smoke out.
Lorries, loaded with tiles,
always rush out.
Rupees always heap up
in a wooden drawer.
Red tiled roofs
always give them refuge.
Those ‘always' remains
in the fossils now.
Weeds lock the compound.
Rust hugs the bolts.
Experience dies in arms.
Coolies teach their children
how to hush the hunger.
Concrete roofs
proudly put wreaths
on their predecessors.
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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The Holy Book
Let its light of peace
Not be shaded by
The bullets and bombs.
Let the wounds cut and shot
By some senseless
Not shatter terror around it.
Let a few blind
Not choke it, locking it
In private drawers.
Let its words, ’’To slay one innocent
Is like slaying all the humans.’’
Put your guns down.
Let its fields, where
The truths and miracles ripened,
Be reaped by all.
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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Wasp Sting
A diabolic deed:
A pebble I pelted
At the hanging shelter
On the stem of plantain cluster:
Vengeance vapours; war clouds.
A smart wasp dared;
Sting of sting; I writhed:
Smouldering compunction;
Pricking tension;
I rubbed red forehead mine.
As a balloon tiny,
Blown with atrocity,
My forehead swelled:
Pang resolved
Never to trespass the insect kingdom.
A big foe retreated;
An act self pledged
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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Ten Minutes
Her ten minutes sneaked
Through the hole of iron needle
In the hand of the cobbler,
Who sat like a spider
At a nook of the city.
She was broken on the chappals;
‘Wait’, word stumbled over the rum stink.
Passers by give her tribute
With their glances; and the beauty
Blushed with the hot sun.
She stooped her proud head,
Which swung intermittently
Towards the east and west,
To check if some acquaintance
Was dropping a belittling eye.
For Miss Seena is rich and noble,
But with a little money.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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Gentle Lady Looking Back
Leaning on the deluxe seat,
She munches banana chips.
Handsome husband breathes near
And air-cooler buzzes chill.
Yet, she looks back from the car.
Vehicles fly scattered on road.
One bike chases so close,
As it tries to kiss the car.
His arms have locked her shoulder;
Often they swing together in ditches.
Yet, she looks back from the car.
He made her shine in rare jewels,
Moments sway in chit chats,
And now the car takes diversion,
May be to some gay zenith.
Yet, unknown why she will look back.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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