Poems of Mangalaprathaban

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.

( Copyright: ©️ Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,Nov13,2025)

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.

(Copyright: ©️ Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,Nov01,2025)

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.

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, October 13,2025)

Saturday, 4 October 2025

Tracing the bliss of love

I smile at what I have lost for ever.

Nothing much remains the same without her.

I know myself with her wings of poesy.

I live in a world of chaotic freeze enshrined in my imaginative sculpt of poems.

My truth is textual all the time.

I couldn't decode what happens in love.

She is my soul while drinking the elixir of love.

Her blushing eyes mimic my poise for insane intimacy.

What is the Zebra line between the chasm and chaste longing?

My shadows spill on the way ahead with the blinking bulls of seclusion.

How do I know the taunting rein of the lust?

I am a vegabond caught up with the whirlwind of mundane life.

My poems breathe in ecstasy to embrace her bewitching eyes.

Monalisa smiles at me from the replica hanging on the wall.

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,Oct04,2025)

Sunday, 28 September 2025

Shredding the Coconut Shell

Every day, we make it a routine to eat our delicacies with coconut.

Taste buds demand its hegemony over everything on my plate.

I relish the coconut chutney with Idli and Dosa.

Mindless paths of my wisdom speak louder than the marathon campaigns of political jokers.

I speak my mind all the time.

Every time, a new coconut falls on the Earth.

I spill my wishes to her now and then.

Coconuts are so common here.

She remains silent in the coconut groove.

My sweet dreams get diluted with the coconut oil.

I smell it with the inevitable longing.

I break the coconut shell occasionally,

scripting my magic of love.

I pray to the Almighty to nourish the coconut.

Nothing much has changed with our longing for the coconut milk.

I speak with the trees quite often.

Who cares for the trees yielding all that they want?

My love is lost in the shell.

(Copyright: ©️ Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, September 29,2025)

Friday, 19 September 2025

Pilgrimage to the Holy Hills

I invoke the bliss of communion.

None can stay relevant in the world of time.

Changes smirk at you.

Crystal clear thoughts spring up.

Brainy bins blink at you.

Birds chirp in the early dawn.

I listen to their lovely conclave occasionally.

Silence sweeps through the world.

Is it a rhythm of the Cosmos?

I keep chanting and walking with my team.

Heavens open!

"Stay still in the eyes of the world!

Better knock on your egoistic splurge!", says the Hermit.

You can rely on the petals of love.

Stringent blinks sync with the Heartless mind!

Pampa flows out of the benedictions of the Lord Ayyappa.

Lush green vicinity spills the elixir.

Everyone wakes up to worship Shri Dharmasastha.

I wash away my sins once in a while.

Swamy Saranam! Om Swamiye Saranam Ayyappa!

(Copyright: ©️ Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, September 20,2025)

Wednesday, 25 September 2024

Unfathomable Love for her mystic smile

Unraveling the elements of my mindless love, I dream of a paradise of harmony.

We smile and begin our voyage.

None brings the blues branding the yellow river.

She sings a melody of her heart.

I melt with her melodious voice.

How do we spice up our love?

Crimson Tide sinks in the Ocean of bliss.

I blink at the horizonless caves of wisdom

dwarfed in my poems.

Symphony smiles at her.

We will splash the blues and resist the urge to spill the beans of yesterday.

Water flows through nothingness.

I am haunted by my chisels of love carving out a chaotic breeze in the world of words.

Her smiles freeze my thoughts forever.

(Copyright: © Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, September25, 2024)

Saturday, 10 August 2024

Grey hounds the blues

She remains a mystery diamond.

Her blinking light stays ahead of the blues branding the yellow swifts in love.

Mosaics of the past bring out the lasting limits.

Nothing silences the past in the bullying seasons.

The Crown of the Red dwarfs the vistas of the silky cloudburst.

Oceans drink the endless stream of rivers losing themselves in love.

We see the fish fly in delight at times.

Clicks of the future flick in the pleasant ooze of the present.

We shiver in the dreadful strangeness, while we create a new canvas in the shadows of love lost in life.

His goatee smirks at creativity for ever.

She smiles at his wilful deception to blink out of nothingness.

Her strings of Passion cry aloud to sip the sadness.

He melts with her in love and lust.

Nonchalant is his rocking horse to spill the dots of vacuous splurge of ego.

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, 11 August,2024)

Wednesday, 3 July 2024

The Crayons of Love

I storm into her vista of love;

She winks at me.

I smile at her wisdom,

mimicking my shadows.

Craved for her love, though she frowns upon my delayed response.

I live in a timeless universe

and empty out everything for her.

We do not silence the echoes of our hearts longing for the communion.

Saddened by the blues of her Utopia,

my daydreams dive into an ocean of nothingness.

Syncopate the best with the worst,

even when we sing

a song for the Divine Intervention.

I know all about her crayons.

How do they dance on the blank planks?

I am not flanked by the spies spilling the beans, but my sparrows point out the flimsole line on the sinking ship of a merchant.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,July03,2024)

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Thursday, 2 May 2024

Blindspots of Love

I smile at them.

Nothing stops us.

We are free to ooze out our nostalgia.

Faint memories of love stick with our hearts.

I love what she is.

She likes what I am.

None spills over the blindspots.

Time ties her up.

I am silent.

She misses the links of my love forever.

Melting the mindless echoes of love,

I speak with the shadows of the past.

Where am I going to?

I don't know the pristine prisms of love.

Crystal balls roll around us.

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,May02,2024)

NB: This poem is dedicated to the refugees in Sudan.

Wednesday, 24 April 2024

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!

Tuesday, 23 April 2024

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.

#poetmangalaprathaban

#mangalaprathaban

#mangalaprathaban_podcasts

Monday, 22 April 2024

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.

Saturday, 20 April 2024

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.

#Mangalaprathaban's_poem

Monday, 1 April 2024

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.

Sunday, 21 January 2024

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.

Tuesday, 9 January 2024

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.

About Me ( Poet Mangalaprathaban M)