The Strain Of Laughter
the strain of laughter
is a pain.
poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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Its Sad But True
Its sad but true
that i hurt you again
but to hurt vents the anguish
from the anger will rise a spark
its sad but true
that i see no other way
but to hurt to awaken the spirit
from the pain shall rise a flame
its sad but true
that i hurt to be hurt again
but to hurt is what i hate
from hurt to hurt i go.
poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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Purple sunbird changes hue
The purple sunbird dances
dressed in shades of black
then the sun spots her
turning her into a mesmerising purple
so do we change tones
when love stops by
nudging gently at the elbow
reminding of gifts to bestow
in times of joy or sorrow
to many a friend or foe
be the purple sunbird
dancing and get others to dance with you
coz there's much to give
and lots to forgive
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poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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The Agony Of Success
he rushed to me
to share his joy
his new found achievement
glowing eyes,
pride-coated
confessed with gay abandon
the elation of success
the pains unlimited
the adulation received
endless his talk
painful for me to endure
my eyes twinged with jealousy
how could i tell him
what pinched me
is his success
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poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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The teacher and the taught
The little devil walks up
-head bowed,
a picture of repentance
-he seeks forgivance
eager to apologise
a reformed person.
The teacher looks on
her eyes filled with affection
ready to embrace the culprit.
The teacher and taught
share an experience
unique and vibrant.
Each time a student walks up to ask
each time the teacher feels honoured to answer
each time a student turns to her for guidance
the teacher obliges with no resistance.
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poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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She Stood Dressed In Green
She stood dressed in green
Twinkling bells of light, bright, dark green
And the soulful singers fluttered around
Voicing songs of joy and happiness
Then suddenly she shook me
Stark in her nakedness
Shorn of her green dress
The songsters disappeared
Was she part of Femen
Was she a member of an aggrieved party
Was this deliberate
This shedding, this unclothing
Or was this seasonal
Or inflicted
Maybe her beauty awed them
Maybe they wanted to punish her
Maybe this was her protest
Maybe she was in subjugation
Standing on the balcony of the fourth floor
I could look her in the eye
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poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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Silence Empowered
its the power of being mute
not open not quite
is the trick to upset others
punish with pain of indifference.
its the power of silence
exercised by those powerful
to quieten the disquiet
to wrap beneath, away from sight
the well- known secrets of the public life
the reason for the latest fight
the cause of tears, private happiness
that secret smile, a silent chuckle
all it takes to silence anger is to
smoothly iron out differences
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poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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Well.... nothing need be said
HE fell behind
unable to cope
still his hands joined in prayer
for her, his beloved
he never stopped dreaming
but pushed them to reality through her
each time she ventured
he listened carefully to her adventures
each time she hesitated wanting courage
he egged her on to defy fear
at times when tasks seemed mundane
she paused to think of him
life was to her a promise to keep
to achieve what should have been his as well
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poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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The Reclining DeityI
Majestic
on the lap of Anantha, the snake
he lay
eyes closed in divine pleasure
gods on all sides
Kaveri at his feet
the majestic Vishnu
huge mamoth like
wearing a child like smile
the lord of the universe
the lord of many hearts
in the town of
Sreerangapatana
the city of Sreeranga
and the heads bowed
in reverence
in respect
in adoration
when in the evening
he was brought out
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poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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The Rumour Spread Thus
The rumour spread that he is dead
the talks were excited with passionate greed
anxious souls rushed to the site
eager for morsels of material food
(to pacify momentary greed
though not satiate the need for more)
as he lay he heard the commotion
quickly he came to the conclusion
and the poor unloved soul
thought it fit to kill what was left
of the dying life in him
the rushing crowd of wards and worse
saw the father writhing in pain
his slit hand spoke volumes
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poem by Sreelekha Premjit
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