Mimetics of Mundaneness

Mimetics of Mundaneness

I spin on the web of freedom.

She cries all alone.

To change the needs, the butterflies fly between the jasmines and chrysanthemums.

Folk music geeks into my ears and swings my moods.

Hollow roads are free from biases but a red colour car stays stagnant.

Where are the peacocks irked in the lousy days of summer?

I twitch the angels and the barbed beauties, wherever they strive to be the beasts of fanaticism.

Nothing stops their lunatic narcissism.

We smile at the Moon lit night and its love for the simmering stars.

How is love lost in the world of pious absolutists?

Blossoming roses wink at the lulls of the day!

(Copyright: © Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, April 24,2024)

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The Tamarind Tree

The Tamarind Tree

Dreadful host of the parted souls, she smiles at those who taste the tamarind.

Flip the foliages to seek the sages.

Mosaic of transition triumphs over the dark web.

A strange Hermit stokes the flames to blush the petals of fecund flowers.

Jasmine blossoms quite early on that day.

Pyramids of Love invoke the blessings of the Mysterious Moon.

Shyness speaks volumes of her lust and love.

The menace of a sudden reverie imposes the museum of artless hearts.

A beggar tricks her to part with her greed.

Sympathies swim with the waves of calmness.

(Copyright: © Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, April 23,2024)

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Syrup for the Selfishness

Syrup for the Selfishness

Mysogeny inks a link with the pastness.

None swipes the cartels of cautious pessimism.

Festivals of future monopolies oppose the world of boundless love.

I smirk at the doves of peace, shuffling now and then to squeeze the ripened mangoes.

Bamboozled to sink in the tyranny of reasons, astrologers melt in the motionless monotony.

Creepers stay away from the trunk of the Peepul tree, climbing ahead of the waving meadows.

I mind my mimes to spell the dullards of wayward wisdom.

"What makes you a blissful magician?", asked my nephew.

I spin on my way to daydream about the losing messiahs of  selfishness.

Limestones lie bare with the blues.

The shadows of the doomsday hang over their heads.

Life is known to be a path of light for the poets of prophesy.

(Copyright: © Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, April 22,2024)

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Twigs of the Past

Twigs of the Past

I smear the Holy Ash and spill the beans for your timely response.

Nothing dims in the memory lane.

Sanity sinks in my Lemuria of love.

I am not what my shadows sing all around the mirage.

I am not what these rumour mills grind all the time.

Pinnacles of success ink for my smile.

Crimson reaps are lulled with her serene pulls.

Shyness denies her access.

Dried leaves, dipped tea leaves and spilled water are free from your clutches for ever 

I wink on myself and spare the blinking light.

Trace the bills of yesteryears in order to swipe the card.

I usurp the fiasco of thy fantasies whenever you want to forge the blues of love.

Hiccups are lost in the null and void.

Sync up with your secret codes of profound euphoria.

Nothing gets credited to replace the nothingness.

Everything dissolves into nothing once for all.

Sly and wry, you smile at your images.

Fly between the Bulls and Lions to dismantle the dwarfdoms.

Hush your cranky loops!

Hackers spin on the dusty pathways.

They are busy with their suggestions.

Halloween parties must be enough for them.

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( Copyright: © Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, April 21,2024)

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Trembling tales of Agony

Trembling tales of Agony

Sanguine sages silence their minds forever,

My mindless echoes of nothingness may stupify the chill out of lucky trips.

I dry fruits and vegetables in the sunshine and drink probiotic liquids every day.

Many people have lost their lives in the world of boundless love.

I know,what it is to delink fantasies of fanaticism from the Absolute honesty.

I smear the Holy Ash on my forehead and stay blessed with lots of love and grace.

Free from biases, the golden Star dives deep into the ocean of silence.

Strive to be yourself and demystify the raging blues of yesteryears.

Our time triumphs ahead of everything and everyone.

We are lost in the tides of insane  profiteering.

Grinding stones of populism drive away transparency through illumination.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, April 02,2024)

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The Soul of a Sage

The Soul of a Sage 

The soul of a Sage is immersed in meditation.

Messiahs prophesy life beyond the scope of bindings.

A Pharaoh stays with his  phantom of lies!

Dried leaves dipped in muddy water splash his name everywhere!

He fails to print out the nests of firebirds.

Spiders of yesteryears weave a web of collusion.

Nostradamus was not wrong with his predictions.

Life flows in the bullied valleys of vacuousness.

Sinister sisters fib out a few tales of their fantasy.

The blink of a Captain limits him beyond the scope of bindings.

Notions of the dark Angels work beyond the wonders.

I smile at them for no reason.

Love yields a few roses blossoming in the middle of the thick forest.

Fragrance sinks in the blues of yesteryears.

Arise! A dystopian heaven and its immaculate heart stays in the vicinity.

We live with noisy scenes of love lit dome.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, January 21,2024)

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Synergistic Eclipses

Sun glows as if the immaculate initiative of Cosmos swings at large.

Tightening the grip of the blues, I smile at everything.

Hollow roads of the wicked wane away.

Wisdom benefits us to know the exactitude of Moon lit dome at home.

Mounting on the seclusion, I smear my lamps for a change.

Drying the petals of roses, we keep making a rose jam in honey.

Sweetened with the blissful mix, roses become delicious while soaked in nectarine syrup.

Catharsis symbolises the triumph over the dark web of collusion.

My poems smell the roses blossoming all along the starry night.

I am a spectator capturing the fragrant rhythms of roses.