Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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!
...
Slouching beside my parents
A shabby shriveled bloke
Wrapped himself in a rug worn
Laden with a bulky bag torn
...
Hazy and misty sky turns (into) bright
Sun shines faintly in the rain ere long
Lovely girl’s lovely eyes
Twinkle with amazement
...
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
...
The Best Poem Of Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
Smudge Of Blood
Here, this smudge of blood,
Of a tender boy of eleven,
Soaked thru the tarmac,
Yet to be dried, still wet and warm!
An innocent young lad,
Fades-in my mind,
Your bag! Your bag!
Picking up a shopping bag,
Shouting and chasing the biker,
Who slings the bag into the crowd,
And cruises at a high speed.
Shouting repeatedly in vain,
Albeit he ran a bit far away from the crowd,
Your Bag! Your Bag!
Still shouting...
Oh! Sudden, the shopping bag explodes
Shredding in to pieces, the poor boy.
Scattering around his fresh flesh all over.
"My son! " "My son! "
The horror stricken mother gasps.
Dreadfully aloud and running to the spot,
Where her son has been ripped,
Plight of the mother is tearful.
Compassions and rancours surge up,
Cries and sighs of the shocked crowd, aghast.
Mother out of sense of mind,
Insanely hasten gathering,
Of her only beloved son's tender bod.
Warm blood dripping fleshes, broken skul,
Clasping to her bosom
"Oh! My Son, My Son. '
Weeping and wailing with a grief uncontrollable,
Caving into the pool of blood…sans...consciousness. ……………………………………………………
……………………………………………………
Appalling brutality and the terror,
Of evil minds, will get over when?
Open your eyes, empathize,
NO reward of Heaven, for shedding the innocent blood.
NO reward of Heaven, for this distress of mothers.
What remains is just this smudge of blood…
Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil Comments
Read all of your poems. All of them are beautiful. The Smudge of Blood touched my heart in particular. Keep on writing. Wish you all the best.
I like this poem.. i enjoy the way that it goes right to the point of terrorism.... u should write more like this.
'Terrorist, and terrorism within any country is the down fall of all great nations....this goes against the will of all free people, and the laws of the universe, and should never be accepted, or condoned by anyone. Their just coldbloodied killers who rape the World of free people just like a child molester! ' NO Honor. Outstanding poem, very visual in words, cuts right to the heart of death with no grey area. Master 'Hud'
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10/8/2024 5:01:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
READ SMUDGE OF BLOOD..IM AM HORROR STRICKEN, IT WAS AS IF I WAS WATCHING THE NEWS, BUT LIVING IN THE GRIEF OF THE MOTHER..WE AMERICANS HAVE OUR OWN CASUALITIES OF WARS, THE WARS OF STREETS, DRUGS, COUNTRIES..BUT WE HEAR AND SEE WHAT ONLY WE WANT TO.THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR OPENING MY EYES, TO THE WARS, AND AFFLICTIONS OF YOUR COUNTRY, YOUR WAR...WILL GLADLY READ MORE, AFTER IM DONE REPLYING..PLEASE BE SO KIND AS TO READ MY 3 LATEST..FIGHTING TIME, IN THE MIDDLE,6 ACTS/ROLES..THANKS AGAIN 4 THE INVITE..I GAVE YOU N SMUDGE OF BLOOD 10..WOULD OF GIVEN IT A HUNDRED IF I COULD