Mirror
An aboriginal brought home a mirror
Gave it as gift to his wife dear
Something she never knew earlier
She looked into it once and
Screamed in horror
And shouted at her mother
“Your son-in-law brought me a sister
Miserble will be my life hereafter”
Mother too looked into the mirror
Smiled she and consoled her daughter
“Don’t worry my dear
She can never be your competitor
She is ugly and much, much older”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Chains
Who chained the humans Sir?
With bracelets, anklets and tassels
Made of gold, gold and all gold
Studded with precious jewels
Who chained the humans Sir?
With love, desires and lust
Bonds, bonds and all kinds of bonds
Of blood, flesh and hearts
Who chained the humans Sir?
With lands, kingdoms and scepters
Wants, wants, everlasting wants
Of greed, anger and power
Who can break the chains Sir?
You, the man, man and man!
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Our Unholy Grails
How weird is world history
Mottled with battles and tragedy
Millions died with senseless fury
Why at one tyrant’s blithely writ
Hordes run towards certain death?
Purging out blind faiths
When surged as mindless blitzes
How many lives went underneath?
Cramming from core to the mantle
The mute bearer, Mother Earth
We no longer drink sweet Adam’s ale
Filled are our grails with our ancestors’
Bitter blood and baleful tales
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Courtsey
How long shall I impress?
With this expressive silence
I am not of the age to hide
Anything, anymore
Of this biting void
Nor you are a new-born
To treat my dumb dialect
As an unintelligible jargon
My love is still alive in spite of
This agonizing stand off
Like a glowing cinder
Burning in my heart’s kiln
Douse it with unkindly grouse
Or kindle it with a billet-doux
I am simply at your mercy
Waiting keen for your haughty courtesy
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Don't Disturb
Disturb not my peace! Oh flowers!
With your sweet scents, that haunt, daunt
Worse, your prattle with butterflies
Lest her thoughts retrace my heart; taunt
Disturb not my sloth! Oh silly winds
With your grating, gyrating caresses
You rind my confidence, I had
Been pretending with courage-false
Disturb not my silence! Oh senses!
With dreams, desires and promises
I spurned long ago your finesse
When she took my love; gave distress
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Love
We crave it, when young, in rage
Scared of it, when wise, to divulge
Love! The undeterring vice of any age
Underlines our life at every stage
What an onus laden on man
Since the “Adam”antine sin
Is it a curse or a boon?
He delivered to the whole clan
At dawn fills your bosom to the brims of thrills
But anon! Drills your heart to a well of tears
Culprit the love! The Cupid’s scourge
Always difficult to interpret it’s maze
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Supersavage
I hunt only when I’m hungry
Once full, my belly, I leave
The remnants for the beasts sundry
Neither I crave, nor I save
For morrow; that’s not in my diary
Bipods alas! Call me savage
To them killing is a joy crazy
For currency, power and prestige
Outrageous this is! Oh Almighty
Give us too some language
To fight out this nasty publicity
Let lions create a new adage
To end this mean human supremacy
That “human means super-savage”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Like A Lotus
My eyes haven’t become glass balls
They well; when they see dolour
Of deprived churls; blood curdles
Somewhere deep from the entrails
Bursts out aloud, a painful shrill
People sneer; call me a fool
“This world you can never overhaul
Reconcile! Mingle with evil
Learn the art of survival”
These are morals from grass blades
With winds in tune they waggle
But I wish I live like lotus
Born and dwell in filthy pool
I still fight the surrounding foul
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Chicanery
He took her into his hands
Pressed close to his chest
Caressed her little head
With his firm fingers
She looked at him fondly
Shrunk further into his hands
And rubbed them with its beak
Must be her way of kissing
She thought, “I’m lucky
His looks are so kind
His touch so loving
His is so caring
Isn’t it so fascinating?
A friendship between
A chicken and a human;
The superior being
[...] Read more
poem by Sathya Narayana
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My Old Clock
I love to teach
As well to get taught
Isn’t it so nice?
To be a master and taunt
A young innocent face
With whatever I learnt
In the fifty years
I did melt
Isn’t it
Even more beautiful
In a lotus pose to squat
Like an obedient pupil
On cold rocky floor
Before a ripened scholar
With a clean slate
And a piece of chalk
They mirroring
My ignorance dark
[...] Read more
poem by Sathya Narayana
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