mohanan viswambharan Nair Poems

She clung to my chest,
So as an ivy vine on a wall.
Her nails on my back jabbed,
Lest I should loosen her.
...

When the breeze blows and flows at dawn,
Swam of bees rise and float in the air.
Coming close, confiding to the flowers,
The lovers rouse them with a soft touch.
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A stretched Barren land
Steep rocks in black n white
Fanned with huge falcons
Reflected through the boy's eyes.
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In a way, when we analyze,
Every ruler will be a 'Ratnakar', the dacoit.
He had looted travellers coming on his way.
What he had accrued from looting passers-by,
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The wife is not a silly matter.
She is a matter of emphasis.
A guard at the threshold of life.
A lock on the gate of evil.
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While I was a child, I often saw him roving in a ravine of hills,
With a stick in his hand and hat on his head, looking for cow dung
His coat lagged on the grassy plot, sweeping the dew.
He clambered up to the hilltop, parting the vegetation to a side
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The mind is cloudy like.
Before the wind comes,
A dark serenity rouses,
which can't be told!
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'LOVE HER, Her friends, nature, the birds,
Even the gravel under my feet bade me.
No words, she uttered.
Never told ' I am fair',
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I am you and you are me!
These are her sweet words.
Then I try to kiss her,
Being frowned upon, she prevents.
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I Made tea from sweet words
Served her in a cup of love.
She took it and spit hatred on it.
...