Biography of Sam Varghis
Writing since the age of age 12 in English and Malayalam. A graduate in Philosophy.
Sam Varghis Poems
An Innocent Village Girl
You are a grown up girl! But, still, an innocent kid in spirit A damsel like a full-blown blossom A luxurious dream of men of land
Dearly Loved, Do You Hear Me?
Dearly loved, do you hear me? Where do you roams? In the valley cardamom shoots Mangoes ripes; paddy reaps
Light A Lamp Of Faith
It is Night Creepy dark Deadly mute Black and rude
Officials Of Our Land
Policeman in the traffic island has no head He has an extra hand behind to take bribe The cop in the station has no eyes He has an extra limb, a lathy, to beat
Expect Unexpected While Driving.
Expect unexpected while driving on your way, A highway or it may be a way narrow A pleasant surprise out of blue or a sudden wreck
Monday Morning Dream
Creamy icey love, a lofty scoop, In multiple mix greens On the green tinted table On the grass green
New Year Greetings
The year ahead, another leg in your sprint, An opportunity to achieve the fondest dreams you have Scrap the worries of losses you had No late to achieve what you lost
Sound Of Music Is Love
did you hear the song the beats of my heart the sound of music the sound of love............
Is It Love?
He said I don't know whether I love you or not I don't know what is love I never touch it
Not the candles or the years fell behind To count on your birth day Contemplate the blessings you received And the experiences you acquired…
Girl Of Wilderness
The girl I met on the bushy land, heaped Beyond paddy fields, was peeping For birds, their nests, eggs and babies An endeavor to help birds to survive.
Hey girl it is a honor being a sprout in your Wild fertile terrains under coy clouds It is a previlage being irrigated by your Temperamented sizzling passions
I cooked nothing because you went I ate nothing though stomach begged for a bite Burned several fags, on lips desperate of kisses, Laden with your thoughts
Hey girl it is a honor being a sprout in your
Wild fertile terrains under coy clouds
It is a previlage being irrigated by your
Temperamented sizzling passions
And nurtured by your feral emotions
And your love is always a shade on me
And a flag ahead of my march.