You and Me

 
We are one
But not single !
Like a book
Folded and kept in the shelf.
When someone opens it
There comes two sides.
You and Me,
Or Me and You...
With nothing in between
But everything in between...
When I come to your side
You become thick and rich
And I vanish...
The same thing happens
When you come to me...
But at the end,
Alas ! We have an epitaph
Instead of an epilogue !!

Seven Dogs in the Night

In one of my nights
They came, seven dogs, at my window
And started barking on a high rock.
A single dog at the door is a pride.
But seven are not seven prides.
They started theirs and I mine.
They spoke very proudly on each others
Like men when they are seven.
I stopped mine as they went on.
I drew my curtain apart
And peeped through my window
There they are !
Alive, alike, and allied
With heads high and body pulled back
To speak to the peak, may be to the God!
I knocked on my windowsill to frighten them
Alas! they didn't mind and bother
Yes ! they are correct.
Why should they get frightened
When they are seven ?!!

Education

Education
------------------------
Does education really educate?
Does certificate really tell truth?
Each letter evolves words;

Words language,
Language knowledge.
Books piled up, boiled up,
And poured fresh in the minds
To think about future,
To thank the carpenter,
Who made the four legs of the reading table?
To love all, even the insect ‘who’ died
Suffocated, unknowingly,
Between the pages of ‘Love all Lives’ book last night.
Every sharpener sharpens your mind,
Every eraser erases your mistakes
Before others find it.
Every human loves to love.
But still, really ‘still’,
In this ‘light’ we fight.
Alas! Not even for the ‘right’.

- siraj-

Kerala

Kerala

S

  Ss

   Sshh…

   See her.

    A mother,

    Her eyes wide,

    Lips trembling dry,

    Cheeks bulky swollen,

     Red, full fire, fearful

      Wet with sweat.

       Tormented, ill-minded,

        Anger-anchored looks,

        Fading, fainting pain-sting.

        Limbs moving like Imps

        Towards a ward, no word.

         Waiting outside, wading inside.

          She is pregnant fully, truly

           Like a full-moon, a full womb.

            From a well-knowing potter,

            Tens ago, tensed sensed love vows,

             Dreams of future nurturing,

              Wish-washes against backlashes,

               To shine, to ring shrill bells

               Here comes he or she or it.

                (Still in womb, can’t say)

                With green up to brim.

                 To breathe in peace,

                  To know, to noble.

                   Came. Is born.

                    Our Land.

                      Kerala.

                       Lol !

                   

                  -----sirajpc---

             

       

         

   

my umbrella

i 

kept

my umbrella

with more flowers on it

in that corner where she put hers

with   butterflies  and balloons  on it

they   sat  there  wet,  touching each other

in the interval, she wrote those words on my umbrella

i

l

o

v

e

y

o

u

         s       h

         o      c

          m u

the cross

                                                                  

                                                                   the cross

                                                                   a     rose.

                                                                   a c r oss.

                                                   they      warn      him,    Jesus

                                                   who   hangs   on  the     cross

                                                   be careful! the nails are rusted.

                                                                  if  you  fall

                                                                  on church

                                                                 it'll demolish.

                                                                  then, mass

                                                                  will kill you.

                                                                  oh    Jesus

                                                                  be   careful

                                                                  the     nails 

                                                                  are   rusted. 

The Last Moment

I opened that room
With a creaking sound.
It was inundated with smoky darkness
And deserted.
A walking stick stands still in a corner,
A big row of medicine bottles 
On the window side,
A spectacle on the table,
And an Ayurvedic smell in the air,
And at last,
A stamp pad left open
In the place of a glass of water in half
And the lost drops on the pillow...