mandara pookal

The dreamy shade of shadow's truth
Lies silent by the side of a brook
And weaving strains of hinterland
Cover and shower the newer look
...

Intoxication bears its semblance
As lies its flavour in the weary hour
Breathlessness surfaces as becomes
The need of the moment is peace
...

Is this maths or just some science?
Clawing into my veins with so much ease
Is this some solution to the pain of endurance
That hits against tough walls of placidity?
...

She's soft as a feather
Spilling with pride
Sailing smooth waters
A swan that just glides
...

Beseiged by the memories of yesterdays
Flowing thoughts spin in realms of spurts
Of joys of knowing human inconsistencies
Now augured as natural without doubt
...

She walks the ramp her heart in mouth
She's sure her move will leave no doubt
In reason logic and in mind
A trail of clues she leaves behind
...

Who will stop these tears of joy
Who else but the cause
To whom these tears I owe
Who else but the cause
...

If my words are simple
If those kept are true
If so found revealing
They are the thoughts quite blue
...

Grace in the expression of a sentiment
Touches the inner cord of regained innocence
Prying in the knowledge of known longings
Sensitive to the understanding of male indulgence
...

Yesterday's memory beseiged
Thoughts realm in flowing spurts
Human inconsistencies' known joys
Without doubt augured as natural
...

Who will stop these tears of joy
Who else but the cause
To whom these tears I owe
Who else but the cause
...

I don't know of its color
Looks like its not new
So deep its actual tenor
So light in varied hue
...

When the soul reached out for one
It clung to life that showed the way
Another soul so bold and true
The bliss of joy it came to stay
...

I've been there before
The space in your heart
It's crunchy inside
You're filled with such art
...

Born to them, brought up by them
Cared and wondered
Cushioned and protected
They cultured and groomed
...

The horizon seems far in its formation
Yet with fond hopes of sun meets sea
I sit on the beach of silky dreams
Your head on my lap as I stroke
...

If I hear
Your love for me
If I am alive
I shall send it to you
...

I don't know of its color
It looks like its not new
So deep its actual tenor
So light in varied hue
...

When did it seep through the deserted mind
That grasps the soul of youthful solitude?
The seeming stance that wakens bliss
That finds the truth that lasts in its midst
...

She sings her songs in hazy tones
And bares her heart untold
The lustrous feel of dewy looks
Unto her soul behold
...