Dream Fragments
The window latch sleep opens,
Then the mind flits out,
And wends the regions,
Boundless, free, and twilit,
Till warm rays kiss the night welt.
Like a rat the mind darted
Along the shrubs,
By the elephants chased.
Soon the legs lost quick paces;
And in fear, the mind to the body returns.
The mind does slowly land
On the school boyhood loitered,
And see the collyrium touched eye brows, and
Side long looks ever charmed,
But all broken opening the eyes.
The vennel snake creeps
The mind dared to prowl,
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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The Evening Breeze
Often, I lie solus,
On white sand-banks
Of the large pond
In my ancestral land,
When the evening breeze
Gently touches the divinity,
Hidden somewhere in mortal body:
I feel I cannot normally feel.
Oh! I wish the evening breeze,
Too heavenly and wondrous,
Brought out my grandmother
Sleeping just under,
With whom I used to enjoy the breeze,
On these sands white,
In green days, later became defoliate!
Indeed, it can if it willed.
The evening breeze brings
Smell of soap suds,
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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Nimisha (poetrysoup international contest winner)
In her layette she looked fair.
'Nimisha', parents called her.
When aged five, polio plucked
The strings that her legs moved:
As a string less violin, her legs rest.
In wheelchair she grew up,
Along with her mother's tension,
And father's anxiety.
Rustic children wish her,
But nobody takes her
To the festival
In the shrine rural.
She wore new dress,
But as the butterflies in her frock,
She also cannot flit
To the shrine yard.
Cough waves, today also,
Shake her lungs so.
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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Bangles
In festival seasons,
Miles walked bangle sellers
Tread the vennel unforgettable,
On feet, worn and torn,
With white clothe bundles,
Full of bangles and their lives,
On their heads wobble,
Whose calls village girls listen,
Break their clay pots,
In which they had collected coins,
And buy bangles
In hues and designs diverse.
Some unknown artists
Shaped the designs on bangles,
Who never came to the limelight,
Instead, wages collected
And withdrew in to silence.
Village girls put on bangles;
Always mesmerised beauty little pains out kept.
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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Grey Stones
I picked the stones grey,
Over eighty years aged.
When on them my ears lay,
Hear the melodies
Composed in yore days…
Music removes dust on my ancient mansion
With countless empty rooms,
All in antique fashion:
Miracles and mysteries
Hover over it always.
My rich grandmother
Ever spreads her wings,
And the rustics poor seek refuge under;
Homes father with cakes
And gather the kids with open beaks.
Behold the cat eyed maid,
Through my windows,
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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New Highway
To the distant swamps,
Boors are driven,
Like stray dogs,
By the lathies and gun.
The shrieking mother
With her wingless child,
Who panted leaning on her shoulder:
Still an ember in the mind.
Grand mango tree dear,
An umbrella of the churls
In sweltering summer,
And a cradle of swinging boys,
Seen in silence pleading,
But sense free axe not the tree spared.
In the hearth and heart it burning,
Fire- wood turned.
Under the highway, buried the fields,
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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Mini Dubai
Silvered canal sprawls with a smile of wisdom.
Like a tamarind seed, my town nicknamed Mini Dubai
Burgeoned, then branched on Kanoli canal bank.
To come up to their own town, busy pedestrians step down
An ancient bridge of imperialism built by the British.
As the traffic lights have lost the eye balls,
A potbellied police man dances and controls.
Jalopies groan, and modern cars whiz.
A long whistle: ambulance with the wounded
And van with a wedding party halt side by side,
As the southern and northern hemispheres of
Emotions meet at a single point, by chance.
Among the concrete buildings seethe under the tanning rays,
Splurging women whirl in the hurry wind. Stink of sweats
And aroma of Arabian perfumes choke the air in the shops,
Where, sometimes, chicanery and dupery peek through the glassed.
To the government offices nearby, applications drafted in blood
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poem by Fabiyas M V
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