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)

( All rights reserved ®)

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)

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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)