The Mystery Girl

(Dedicated to my friend known among
the bloggers as Cracks, who gave the
sudden inspiration for this poem
narrating about a girl he used to see
on the way to his office)


There is Mr. Cracks, a real life crack
Who helps me to break, the themelessness track
Now the theme is this, that of a pretty Miss
Who daily does not miss his inadvertent aerial kiss!

It’s the Thiruvananthapuram city, with morning’s gaiety.
You know its eminent deity, Sri Padmanabha almighty.
Where she stands daily, waiting for her college bus shyly
My friend gets her glance slyly, that she gives him daily.

You know this girl? She’s a belle, with lovely kiss curl
Like a golden whorl, gilds her rosy cheeks in roll.
Did you see she smiles? Ah, that’s like an angel smiles!
Wears churidar with frills, Does the black one for her inner wails?

Why does she cry, or pretend? For the young beaus to tempt?
Or is she really in lament? If so, what’s the cause of her plaint?
My friend Cracks, with tender heart, does not see her apart
Plans to a conversation start, and to break the rampart.

You know this guy Cracks? Man, you should know his pranks
With his existential remarks, his rivals, get some open attacks.
He likes social fillip and seldom breaks friendship,
Has no scholarship, though, he’s a man with some leadership.

Moving aside the city flock, my friend goes to talk,
“Tell me with no shock, with no playful mock,
Tell me hey babe you, with your shyness few
What dreadful thing makes you, to cry happiness in lieu?”

Blinking dreamy eyes, she tries to stop her sighs.
With a sigh she says, “Not any more, I can control this,
Hey you gentle jaan, I will tell you man,
What is in my lifespan puts my mind in san,

I will share you my sorrow, not now, only morrow
For there comes my bus in a row, see you soon you hero!”
Then she goes as planned, with her waving hand,
Looking back forth and like in a journey errand.

Several days had came, several belles came
Not our Cracks’ dame, came the spot that same.
None of Cracks’ team, thinks her as it does seem
Thus here ends the theme, like a genuine dream.

A Boatman’s Love Song

Let’s row the boat as one, oh my love
To an unheard far-far land,
Where seasons keep the treasure trove
And birdies aggroup a music brand!

The river, the oar and me, the lover
Fit the fiddle strings that you play.
But your absence makes it, Oh Singer
A stricken grievous fiddle in May!

Am I in love, or in fancy? I wonder
You tell me the one that true!
Till that I will put myself in wander
Nettled by your thoughts and rue.

Take on my hand at once, oh my love!
Else it will make my heart to bleed.
Drop some glance at least somehow
And that will up my heartbeats to speed!

My Lost Lover Girl

(Once again interpreting my own dream following the 'Birthday Party of the Beautiful Princess')

For this time I will tell you a story
And not a story properly, may be a sophistry.
For my friends I’m telling this story, dreamy,
Who had unusual love affairs, in biography.

It was in a September, I too remember
And I was a tiny teenager, too common in any genre,
When I met this girl, the lost lover girl
Who was a pretty petite girl, and I fall in love with her.

Two or three months passed, and once we stood
On a sea-pier extended, clutching each other hand in hand,
On a cloudy afternoon, with my companion boon,
Beneath the faded sun that shone, watching surf those breaking soon.

Soon there a wild beast comes, on these foaming waves
A huge figure of Octopus (1), with greedy tentacles.
We both looked at this, this huge figure of Octopus,
And we both startled once, stared at it with fearful eyes.

The sky went black n’ dark, the clouds began to bark
Making thunders strike, and the east-wind’s crack.
Then my pretty petite girl, pushed me to the ocean whirl
Cause of panic n’ temptation, or I didn’t get her action.

I felt I was falling fast, to the hands of the beast,
I saw her frenzied eyes, while skidding among the tentacles.
With the Octopus I struggled, to rescue the life shuddered
And I looked at her eyes troubled, to see sympathy, distressed.

Struggling hard and hard, I made my life to guard
Somehow I escaped, and now reached where I stood
The first thing that I did, as you have understood
Or as you unexpected, was pushing her downward.

I was in such a rage, and I never thought of her age,
That she was underage, and she had lack of knowledge.
I saw her to fall downward, struggling with the waves hard,
And screaming being afraid, with my heart unusual hard.

Skidding between the tentacles, and trying to break the obstacles
She vanished into the bubbles, and I didn’t watch her resistance.
Keeping my head low, and leaving my love below,
I ran to the lands at low, to escape from the Law.

Dear readers, you please don’t be worry
‘Cause I said, I’m telling you a story
And you too know, it’s a story of a fairy
That I learned from a dream, dreary.

"But you know that’s how I lost my lover girl!
And that’s the story of my lost lover girl!"

(1). Octopus

The Princess’s Birthday Party

(Inspired from one of my dreams)


It was the Romantic Path
Again, this time too!
A heavenly Path,
With Cedar trees flourished
On both sides, and
Yellow leaves scattered
All through the tracks.

It was the City of Time,
The Kingdom of Dreams
And the heavenly Palace was ahead
To which I was moving.

I was a traveler to this city,
A visitor, uninvited and
A perfect stranger, who carried
The craziest thoughts of his age, and
The winged hopes with him.
Aimless, and helpless,
Foolhardy, and dreamy, with
Droopy eyes due to the weight of
The last night’s missed sleep, and
The unshaven face and shabby dress
With worn out apparels.

The strangeness was similar
To the city dwellers too!
They looked curious at the strange
Figure of mine, and
I too looked back with
The excited curiosity!

Soon, I knew, I too became
The part of the crowd, that moved
Towards the palace, ornamented
Highly with stones precious, and
Embedded with charming
Sculptures.

That current of the crowd
Took me to a hall in the palace,
The Diwan-I-Am, as it was called,
Darkened, yet illuminated with
Mighty chandeliers hung aloft, and
Lofty cherubs silhouetted.

It was the day of the Princess
That she turns seventeen, the sweet.
It was the party time for the invited, the
Courtiers, and I am, the uninvited.

There filled a soft music on the air,
And coloured smoke raised with
Fresh fragrances of Rose and Jasmine,
As everybody sat on chairs somewhere
And tasting the delicious, while
I too sat somewhere on the back
Less crowded and light diminished.

Arrival of the Princess, it was
To the hall played along by
Mates, who gossiped and giggled
A lot with the thunder of claps
In the utter amazement at
The beauty of the gown that she wore,
Ornamented and embellished by pearls,
The charming smile that made the
Courtiers mad, and above all,
Her gaze, dignified and majestic, and
Her eyes, graceful that drooped
A little downwards.

Walking through the hall
Among her admirers and
Without looking any, the Princess
Approached my side giving me
Some startle and embarrassment.
Straightly, wavering not even a little
She sat opposite me, and
Raised her eyelids to look at me
With her pretty eyes of inviting charm.
God, it was the moment that
The classics although the ages
Had praised a lot.

The charm of all lasted for a moment
As the images began to dissolve.
The palace, the hall and the charming courtiers,
The applause, the heavenly light, and music,
Everything began to vanish into thin air.

And still there I could see
Two bluish tinted eyes
Casting the dignified gaze
In front of my opening eyelids
Sharp and alarming and
Even prettier!!