Rajesh Thankappan Poems

I saw the poet write
Brilliantly bright,
A sublime poetry
With intricate artistry.
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Are we no more than mere puppets
Remote controlled by the secret strings of fate?
Or are we just a passing eyewitness
Watching a puppetry show being staged?
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Little lamb, little lamb
Why don't you bleat?
I can tell you
You sound so sweet.
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I would love to let it go
Would then love to see it grow
Love to see it bloom one day
To pluck its fruits ripened in the sunray -
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I blew air and the pipe piped
A tune full of joy and delight,
I blew the pipe for sometime on
The tune soon turned into a song.
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Your remembrance
Are my thoughts
In which I delve
For sustenance.
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A soothing balm is good music
For it can provide succour even to the sick
It has in it rhythm and harmony
Sweetness that we experience in melody.
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The dove of peace
That graced the azure sky
Was shot down
By a nice young guy
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The child was unfortunately washed away by the tide
For after a prolonged struggle he had died,
Leaving his parents in a sea of shore-less grief
From where they can’t find relief, even tantalizingly brief.
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Trees, trees,
Bustling with leaves
Waves at clouds
And dances in the breeze,
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