santhosh kana

santhosh kana Poems

They told me
“wipe your tears, be a Man”! !
How’s it to be a Man? ?
I wake up to your absence
...

This is the toughest
The dark lanes
The phantoms of the past
The thin alley of faith
...

Every ghat is a train station
With the smoke of an announcement
The river is the train of eternity
The platform of separation, the goodbye
...

I never knew how to paint my Heart,
so insipid, pallid, bland and naive,
which colour
thicker or lighter
...

We might have been
In the same train's adjacent coaches
Got wet in the same rain
Took shelter under the same roof
...

when i look into your eyes
i feel you have been with me
since childhood
we express so much without words
...

The frozen message in the eyes of a goat at the butcher’s
The rain drops on the beak of a dead bird
The cry of a half fed baby in a brothel
The veiled wail of a martyr’s young half
...

On the banks of dead river
Lives
The wait of the trees
For a distant message
...

The departed and the parted
are not gone for ever
they are here
like the fragrance from an unseen flower
...

I like those who return home
They are with Nature
They carry the moisture of love
There is a defeat on their face and body, a surrender
...

The next morning
on my shirt
I found
a lock of your hair entwined
...

My palette
my brush
my riot of colours
the canvas
...

every time she came to me
she shook and broke
my cocoons,
she flew all over the house
...

14.

I am a dilapidated castle
Bats dwell in my rooms
Echoes of my words alone you hear
the lost life of words, their glory
...

15.

Wow! ! what an incredible phenomenon
Its miracles many have i seen
how it heals and seals
everything is invested
...

The cornerstone laid
with zeal,
ceremony and celebration
slowly goes
...

How do I depict your absence
and what it does to me?

I may paint it dull and drab
...

there is a distance that tears alone can erase
there is a feeling that distance alone can make you realise

there is a word that silence alone can reveal
...

19.

Sifted yesterdays
into
this morning's bowl,
...

Our love has made many faint,
sweat and fret.
see the rise in temperature
see the number of people it got talking
...

santhosh kana Biography

Teacher by profession. Loves travelling, adventure, theatre, acting, writing, music and movies.)

The Best Poem Of santhosh kana

The Algebra Of Your Absence

They told me
“wipe your tears, be a Man”! !
How’s it to be a Man? ?
I wake up to your absence
Your lost leftover like “good morning”
I love my bed though you aren’t there
I can’t wake up to your face
The deep innocence in your eyes makes me weak for you

Holding you in my arms
Cuddling you on my lap
Caressing your locks
Sneaking into its dense
The smell of a primordial innocence.
Baby, can’t we be together without us? ?

Didn’t I love you like my baby?
Didn’t I nozzle the ageless rear of your neck
Your bare shoulders?
The most romantic moment is the innocence of your nudity
To the washroom after our love

Evening drops its gloom on me
Night’s darkness hides behind the trees like you
Night scares me by your absence
Day scares by your presence
You don’t pass by me
You pass through me like a dagger
I can’t have the days and nights without you
I want to be coiled in the womb of my blanket
Morning cuts the umbilical cord into insane activity.

How’s it to be a Man?
I cherish the moisture of your lips on my manly arms! !

santhosh kana Comments

santhosh kana Quotes

The first love didn't last long becoz I was so new to it. The latest one too becoz I am so experienced that there's nothing new to it! ! !

Life is about gradual disillusionment and the challenge is how graceful you can make it.

This world sees and celebrates scholars but misunderstands and ignores genius.

Those who are shocked at your popularity or achievements are the ones who have underestimated you.

There is nothing conventional in Love

contentment and insecurity are inversely proportional.

Contentment and Insecurity are inversely proportional

What keeps me happy, refreshed, passionate and motivated as a teacher is that I happily forget outside the school that I am a teacher.

The language of Love has no script but a great oral tradition of literature

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