Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil Poems

Here, this smudge of blood,
Of a tender boy of eleven,
Soaked thru the tarmac,
Yet to be dried, still wet and warm!
...

Oh! My river
My cute river
Beauteous you are
In the morn, in the gloaming
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Is she an angel?
I asked the stars
They were dubious
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Slouching beside my parents
A shabby shriveled bloke
Wrapped himself in a rug worn
Laden with a bulky bag torn
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Hazy and misty sky turns (into) bright
Sun shines faintly in the rain ere long
Lovely girl’s lovely eyes
Twinkle with amazement
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I plod through the leafy woods
The shadowy, coolly rain forest at the dale
Harkening the spellbinding tunes of trills
Watching the vividly coloured pretty fowls
...

I remember the first day I met you,
I caught a glimpse of your face far in the crowd,
Glowing in the diffused golden twilight,
I strode in the seething mass to be near you.
...

Old age knocked on my door and enjoined
‘Over, your stint in the desert’
Obeyed, though my reveries remain unfulfilled
Oddments of my odds and sods are wrapped up to carry along
...

Dragging me these old pictures
In to my by gone days
They are decayed in course of time, though
The pictures have a lot to speak
...

Trills of the birds
Arouse him up in the morn.
The feeling of lethargy
Restrains him from getting up of his comfort
...