Poems of Mangalaprathaban

Thursday, 22 October 2026

The Red chilli

I know how hot you are;

A few things look green at first.

You become red soon.

A lingering love for the red is left in green.

I become red when I slice you up.

Spicy lips and tongue collude with one another.

I don't lick the past in your presence.

Slick talks simmer on nothingness.

Chilli pepper dances on his dulcet tongue.

Honeymoon hatches a playful duplicity.

Shylock sinks in the world of lethargic allusion.

Goldmines of Goose Kingdom smack their lips.

Drooling over the dumbfounded dragon,

Cyrus wants to be a living monster.

Caesar's wife is not beyond the black poison.

Othello of dwarfdom dips in the Waterloo.

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, October 22,2026)

Wednesday, 4 February 2026

The Sidewalk

The Moon mimics the blushing rays of the Sun;

Her shades of love spin on my mind.

I am mooning on her tumultuous grim.

Singing the music of my soul, I buy time against the timeless oneness.

Where are we going now?

Synergy is frozen for a moment.

Triumphs of love echo in my heart.

I walk away from the darkest episodes of the past.

Minding my words of caution, she becomes a shadow of mine.

Why do we wait for time to spell the day?

Nothing is chosen by you and me.

Time is destiny bolstered on the sedate seclusion.

We wait on the sidewalk.

She stands by my crazy clicks.

I wink at the sizzling leaves of love.

The sidewalk is the only testimony of our duet.

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, January 05,2026)

(NB: This poem is purely imaginative.)

Monday, 8 December 2025

The Silent Monk

Everyone knows the monk in him;

He is totally fine with himself!

Nothing changes so easily.

Love smiles at the limericks of the past.

Mutation inks them a bill.

Chaos inches towards the towers of bliss.

The blues of her yesteryears call her up for seclusion.

Hilarious scenes of merry-making buy some time to be away from the busy work.

Winking on the voyage of love, a beggarly lady mutters nothing.

Crimson clothes crumble on her head.

I understand the blinking bulls of today.

Why do we face a wall between isolation and seclusion?

Emptiness irks us for a while.

Cracks sit on the wallpapers and slice them up.

None wants to meet the monk within...

(Copyright: ©️ Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan December 09,2025)

Thursday, 20 November 2025

Glaciers of Yesteryears

A Sage lives in the Himalayas.

He longs for the yellow metal in the fiasco.

Yellow trees are found everywhere;

Necromancy inches in the world of work.

Cyber intelligence irks our data privacy.

Triumphant over the blinking spills,

Shylock cries fowl.

Every Tycoon ties up with Shylock.

Glaciers of Gold melt in their eyes.

Dark web dries his wealth in Fintech.

Barbed wires are littred around his hideout.

The craft is not yet buried in the mindless paths.

We become spinners to win over the hearts.

Desdemona spices up our conversations.

Mellowed lullaby soothes the soul.

(Copyright: ©️ Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, Nov21,2025)

Wednesday, 12 November 2025

A Lime Tree

Lizards live there on the roof of a thatched hut,

waiting for a delicious dinner of flies around.

Simpletons smirk around the noisy bustle of a suburb;

Masking the riches,

the bluestone shines on his middle finger.

Muses moon around his blinking spills of love.

A lime tree dances with the whirlwind.

It is a solo dance in communion with the sizzling leaves.

The Orchestra of the universe dwarfs the foils of the sorrowful vegabonds.

Bullied by a few cockroaches,

a few ants look for sugary syrup occasionally.

"Trust the flow of the snow!", a toothless lady mutters.

Buddha stays in silence.

Everything is in disarray;

The mood of Monalisa strangulates a vegabond's lullaby.

The Child of Innocence is born again,

to stay put with the noisy multitudes.

Saturday, 1 November 2025

Trespassing the blues

I smiled at her synthetic smile.

My mind becomes an epicentre of her symbiotic mutation.

Our minds spill the ocean of love without an easy swing.

Shyness urges her filibuster smirk to melt with our conversations.

A mad architect ques up his sculpt of love in nothingness.

I don't know how to make him revel in it.

Spaceless blinks sync with my creed and deeds.

I shadow myself in my blues.

Where are we today?

Commotion at its best calls my love forever.

Lost her shadows in nothingness.

My poems live with her love.

Monday, 13 October 2025

Dreaming the bubbles in blues

There are sailors sailing beyond the shores of love;

The bearded poet sees the blushing lulls of his imagination to bully my logic.

He is a creative person who hoists the flag of legitimacy.

Dreams fill the void and blink at us.

The beams of love dry him up.

She is a passionate musician singing a lullaby for the forlorn dog and cat at home.

Michael Angelo fires his shots on a canvas.

Paintings live today to enact the moment.

I am a seeker.

My mind is silent.

Bubbles of light and shadows of the past

swing around the Aristotles of the East.

I dare to dream for all.

About Me ( Poet Mangalaprathaban M)