Flash of a dawn

Flash of a dawn

I opened the window panes to gaze a galaxy of stars, waving at strangers without any strangeness.

Fuelled by the time of the day, fringes dry out soon to moon around our Pompeii.

Caesar is yet to be identified to claim the throne in Buddha's land of boundless love.

Caesar's wife is always beyond any doubt here and there.

Mark Anthony smiles at Triumvirs.

I drank my frankness to wash away the pastness in the present.

I miss out the links for nothingness whipped out on our sarcasm.

My mind is a canvas dancing with the daffodils of the day.

I smile at them and chat with them in the absolute silence.

Silence is louder than words of wisdom spilled out of sagacity.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, December 18,2023)

( ® All rights reserved)

Screens of Crystals in the Light House

Swimming pool inches up every day 

as the streets of Our Life immerses in the  galaxies of love and ecstasy, longing for what makes you and me in the fantasy of words smiling at the hall of joy.

Waves of water bubbles forsake the blues of yesteryears and wrench the flimsy flakes of vacuousness once for all.

Humanoids brim with the linking oasis but do not yield the bards of stardom with honeydews of freedom lost in the case of Narges Mohammadi.

Yellowed with red hats, her intimate communion with liberty live with the flint of fire for equality and equanimity.

Someone rang me up talking about shamanism but I don't feel free to speak about the blurred identities.

I am lost in the world of boundless energy and speak through my poems all alone.

Free to hoist the flag of freedom in the mindless echoes of nothingness inbuilt in love beyond the scope of bindings.

I am in sync with the limelight of a team lulling with the company of everlasting poetry on a few occasions of mimetic bliss.

Drips of love trip me off beyond all reasons.

I urge upon the stripes of colourless cadets encarving the sky in the name of cloudy cacoon.

Sideline the beasts of our erotic estates and blink upon the future of nature's furore.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, December 10,2023)

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Fireworks for the day

Cracks of a palace dispel the grey matter.

Dripping lanes of a rainy day spin on the Earth.

Shying away from her sinister designs, the lion licks its paws of power.

Freezing the blues of yesterday's meeting, I wonder at myself and others.

Dogs in the street bark at strangers now and then.

I don't know how she elopes with

 her man of letters  all of a sudden,

 in the bliss of a new moon day.

Everyone cries aloud for someone,

 who sips the silence of our life.

His Holiness is with us forever to shove the way to God, the Omniscient.

I am eating up the lulling moments of love.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, December 02,2023)

( ® All rights reserved)

Stitching up the Rainbow for the Sky

Stitching up the rainbow for the sky

I smear the bliss of a rainbow wedded sky on a moonlit night.

She winks at her eyes of sedate oneness.

Our bliss of love blinks at nothingness.

We remain mute spectators without any option.

Hysteria lasts longer than usual for all.

Synergistic symphonies sideline you at once.

I don't know how to deal with life lost in time.

We are what we are because of rainbow wedded sky.

I have been a rainbow at times.

Mosaic of my poems spiral over everything that I have signed up for a mundane life.

Where is the need to stitch a rainbow of flowers and thy fragrance?

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, November 30,2023)

( All rights reserved ®)

The Elite's Sigma

The Elite's Sigma

Flags fly on and off!

The Sigma of life lies with us.

Never do they allow anyone to hoist the flag of selfless service.

Every iota of life smiles at your homeward.

Thinking all about how his father served the nation with absolute love and commitment, he finds a few staying quite calm in the service.

Creamy layer of the elite enjoy everything together with love to make more money.

Sensing the seasons of lucrative business,they become turncoats quite often.

Piling up with the same, I ask myself-- "what is next?"

Trust triumphs over everything.

Flagged off the championship in sanity.

He dries his crystals for simmering signs of filibusters.

I am a wayward sage to sculpt my poems.

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, November 25,2023)

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Tiny Mole on Her Faceless Painting

Strident limits die out of luck when a spinning ball dances in the mid air.

Dripping lanes of a rainy town smirk at the brimming clout of drainages.

Water flows free of all biases, beyond the bridge and beneath the bridge.

Gripping the tides of wonder, frantic grinders flip through the mosaic of minds while flaundering the limestones.

I will outsmart my blissful soul and seek the serene pulls of sages,to dwell on meditative stillness.

I am completely free now to dance with cosmos and bank upon my sedate oneness.

I ask myself--"what makes me the liberated self?"

I love those days of destiny etched in euphoria of love linked with lyrics.

Waving the blues of love, I pounce upon the unknown corridors of power caught up with binding fists.

Deserted and decked up all day long, the synagogue seeks to be in the company of a Wailing Wall .

The temple towers smile at the horizon for the dawning moments of pious devotees.

Greying inches on our futile extravaganza.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, November 16,2023)

( All rights reserved ®)

Frenzy at the melting moments of love

Frenzy at the melting moments of love inks a bizzare portrait of a new stream of life.

Lights speak with darkness once again to seek the refuge in our mindspace.

Moon minds the Sun lit dome of stars eschewing the dark crown at times.

Occassionally, fleecy clouds ripen up to gel with the Earth.

Berries of the day dive deep into the world of tasty mouths.

We are free to choose the days before the depths of love longing for the sake of itself in the blushing thrills of buoyancy.

Miniatures are being made for each other while the artist in you sews the blues with the brownie points.

"I am not bound to the screws and nuts of the past, " says the age-old motorbike parked at her home.

Everything has life lost in the mindless love.

Mind blows the furnace of love moist in the realm of tears buried in the clutches of dogma.

Husky voices are pulled up to furnish the voiceless but excruciating pain missed in dripping days of the rain.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, November 11,2023)

( All rights reserved ®)

Crocodiles of the Pacific Ocean

Crocodiles dive deep into the unknown corridors of  volcanoes breathing in silence.

Seething through the lava, volcanoes never ooze their memories of the past.

Our shadows of the past flicker through the silent mode of volcanic eruption.

Hiccups are hijacked by all of us.

We drive ourselves away from the past and future.

We are not the echoes of the past but citadels of the present in an enigmatic way.

Crayons cry aloud while drawing the faceless mosaic of our monopolies.

Crocodiles of the day drink water without passing the tides of the past.

Snoring through the day, I smile at myself and my imagination.

Creating a new horizon for the crocodiles is what the world of aquatic creatures long for.

Urged you to swipe away the dormant customs in our social fabrics,I smell the blushing spills of love hatched in creative anonymity.

(Copyright: Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, November 04,2024)

Mirage of reality sculpt in nothingness

Strangeness inks its origin of mundane nothingness through the iotas of war blowing its echelons of greed for land.

Their  lust for power sweeps away all at once, children, youngsters with future dreams and elderly people.

We see the claws enmeshed in the 

symbiotics with emboldened fanaticism. 

Irked by the devastations, a few stay saddened but the mirthful psychopaths keep counting their coins and currencies.

Where do we plant a sapling when you bombard the earth with your ignorance?

Streets get deserted and the little ones do not know the meaning of love and hate all of a sudden.

Stripping off the hatred, what else do they have in creating a mayhem? 

Lunatics are on their way to rationalise a war but the blessings of the World are only for unconditional peace and love.

Love never limits you in and out of all that you have been.

Strive for peace and stay with the elixir of love for all.No bombardments.No barriers of race and religion can stand against the power of  love.

Oh! It is time for the Heavens to stifle 'Hell let loose' in the name of war.

Oh! Mother Earth bless us with peace and love forever.

Om Shanti!

Om Shanti!

Om Shanti!

Santihi...

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, Oct31,2023)

(All rights reserved ®)

NB: This poem is dedicated to the hapless victims of war between Israel and Palestine.

The Genetic Myopia

 

Shadows sink in nothingness found everywhere!

Life is a series of shadows mimicking the Bulls!

Jack of all trade grasps us for a yellow metal.

He sips his cup of tea in a lethargic way.

Flipping through the eons of the mindless miracles, the Bismarck strips his strides in a moment.

I am not sure whether the Cannibalism is still inbuilt in the genetic myopia of psychopaths, who dream of  egotistic usurpation.

Synagogues stand above the stocks of the mundane life,but the universe of love limits those lost in inhumane profiteering.

I love what I do in every moment of spiritual communion with Buddha.

Saints drink oneness everywhere and in everything.

How have you transmuted donkeys into horses?

(Copyright: Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, August20,2023)

(NB: This poem is dedicated to all the seekers, who thrive for universal oneness.)

Smeared with the Holy Ash

I found Him standing on the entrance of that 'Spanda' Hall;

Time was ticking so fast but it appeared to be illusion for my mind at first.

A few minutes later, I found the Lord Shiva standing with his 'Thrisul' at a reachable distance.

Revealtions of the Divine Being echo the everlasting ecstasy in communion.

I am inseparable from the boundlessness of grace inbuilt in the Eternity.

"What am I supposed to be? 

Who am I?"  are unanswered questions in my quest.

Being and Becoming are not etched in the rationalist proportions of free will.

I am yet to discover what it is to drink the elixir of ecstatic oneness, though I meditate on and off.

My blissful love sinks in my daily routine.

I am being created by the bliss of all that the Universe moulds me in the flow of time.

I stay blessed with whatever I am doing.

My quietitude synergises with sarcastic simulations done by a few to obscure my creativity.

We are born with fire to strive beyond the known boundaries.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,July25,2023)

(© All rights reserved)

Her Blushing Cheeks of Sanguine Love

Imitation is all over;

She smears the bliss of 

Star lit Moon on her attires.

Glistening eyes sparkle her wisdom of the worldly wonders.

Mincing the words of blissful wisdom, her besties rest around her poise.

I seek her company in a secluded place.

Pillars of the past get drenched in the weird wirings of human nerves,

spiiling over the mosaic of who we are, and what we sympathise for, in genuine compassion.

Hiccups are silenced by the miracles of her pristine blush in love.

I am lost in her eyes

 longing for all that I am,

 but steaming the noisy mind

 to cocoon around my mission in life.

Everything is born 

in the cosmic communion 

beyond all our sensible utopia of epistemology and ontology.

I drape my intelligence 

over my egoistic splurge.

Life is a listening festival

for those in love with learning.

Enticing the brink of silence,

I am always immersed in her aura.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,July 20,2023)

( All rights reserved ©)

Disturbances of Quacks

Disturbances of Quacks

Demagogues deny access of all that I am in crooked ways.

Their misery misdirects everything throughout the day and night.

I begin my story with the fathomless past.

None strives out to sketch the unknown bliss of ecstatic oneness with the universe.

The self is the author of who we are on all occasions.

Shadows sink in light and get dwarfed in the  darkness of love lit night.

Nights blossom with longings for a few.

Our stardom with nightmares gets eclipsed.

I drink my time in space, as if I am a timeless eternal creature born with splendor.

I am what I am even when I stay out of all that I do.

I am not shadowed by anyone at any time.

My colours splash of nothingness found in the horizons of yesterday.

I capture my muses on and off.

My love for poetry never ends.

I love all that becomes poetry of love and life.

Our love echoes in the dawns of Heaven.

The Father of Heaven wakes up with the blissful communion.

Love etches itself beyond boundaries known in my mind and heart.

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,20 July,2023)

( All rights reserved ©)

A suave monk

A suave monk  found a grumpy old jackal yelling beyond the scope of climate change.

Our Uncle Jack inches towards the rainbow ruckus.

The psychics of trust miss the links for a change.

The blue-eyed boy of a monastery mints the spineless tricks of waverly wisdom.

Jacob becomes a ghost all at once.

Jackals are sometimes known for poisonous snakes waiting for their fatal bites.

They bury the best for their nepotism.

Their days are counted on their countless attacks of the innocent multitudes.

The silky smooth cobra slips out of its track to claim its supremacy.

Days are born with light and love.

Living without shadows of debt...

A saint sleeps over his debts for no reason.

Money makes the world of chaos.

The saintliness sinks in the bottomless pit of frankness and seeks humiliation from the eyes of the Modern Rawana and Greedy Duriyodhana.

Triumphs of love field us off all at once.

Perched on the pit rests a Cuckolded Nightingale.

Rawana was not a Man of Might.

He filled his splurge of ego in crystal wonder.

Silencing the blues and greens, I feel free to emerge out of chaotic freeze.

The Lord Ram conquers the egoistic voyage of Rawana for ever.

I am a mute spectator of life lost in debts.

I don't know how to make a way out of boundless love inbuilt in the world of nothingness.

Nothing remains the same.

(Copyright: Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, Feb23,2023)