Nichiro
22nd January 2007, 02:48 AM
[tscii:199884b5ca]Dear friends,
Three of my Haikus are being posted today.
LONLINESS
My lonliness stays in this
Room made of nothingness whose walls are
Guarded by crowd of memories.
DEATH OF A GIRL CHILD
Tearful mother crushed small mouth
Firmly to her milk oozing breast and
The girl child was dead
INNOCENCE
where did my innocence go
When I came to know the difference
Between the right and wrong.
I am presenting you with THREE HAIKUS,
Punishment
Then God passed his sentence.
"You'll suffer imprisonment till your last breath ".
And thus "I" was born.
Sounds
Now scything sound of silence
And moments dashing against eternity of nothingness,
Torments my blissfully sleeping dreams.
Lonliness
My paper is now lonely,
As thoughts have gone out with feelings
On a long long journey.
PRAYER
God,"If I cannot move,
I'll ask for a capacity to dream,
Destination, then , will be under my feet ."
FREEDOM
Sun is setting slowly.
The evening air is laden with
The remnants of scattered sounds
of children running
around the corridors
of nearby school.
Those are the happy sounds.
Much opposite of the ones
when they walked in the school.
The soul , is now able
to feel approaching
Freedom for myself.
The load of the baggage carried
all my life
Is being thrown away soon.
Journey to unknown
is what I am looking for
with eager heart.
Soon the hospital bed will be vacant
The waves in the monitor
will soon be a straight line.
Let it be after the sunset.
O lord..!!
Nichiro
Death Of A Noble Soul
There was a deathly silence all around,
The speaker shed tears and said,
"What a noble soul we have lost,
All of us are orphaned now.
Who shall we look to for inspiration?
This orphange and other schools
will be Fatherless now.
He was a true father
Who showered fatherly love on you all.
So devoted was he,
To the cause of orphans,
That he never married."
So spake people one after another.
The crowd marched past the body
Of the departed servent
With wreaths in hands round
The casket which was gleaming mahogny.
There was a mound of flowers soon enough
Having shed tears
And bowing of heads
And folded hands.
The bigwigs left.
Slowly the crowd thinned,
The reporters packed their bags
And were departing last .
A girl , barely sixteen,
Inmate of the orphange
Stood at the gate with
A child in arms, looking
At people with vacant eyes.
A reporter asked the orphan girl,
"Is this your child?
She barely nodded.
"Yes"
"Who is the father who gave you
This child?"
Persisted the news man.
"He is in that room,
Dead........
Lying in the big casket."
Nichiro
A poem for child labour activists.
...And they said, children's fingers make best products
In a dingy room
Rows of children...
Very young children,
Weave coffin clothes for
their childhood ......
A childhood,
which died before they were born.
And people call them Carpets.
Same nimble fingers have
Lost sense of touch
And mechanically, now,
They roll tendu leaves
They do not fill tobacco
But each leaf roll is filled with
Their childhood.
A childhood,
Which died before they were born.
And people call them Beedies.
In an isolated factory hall,
Rows upon rows of children,
Wearly roll papers,
And fill them with
Their childhood.
A childhood,
Which died before they were born
And people call them Fireworks.
Nichiro
Ps.
Come, let's give back their childhood,
And freedom to play and dream.
Give up with determination,
Smoke, carpets and crackers.
Each one , teach one.
Wait For Freedom
Now I know that God has put
My life in tears.
with every cry and drops
Of life running down the cheeks,
My freedom seems very near.
Dark sun is spreading
Its unfathomable blackness
In front of my eyes.
Soul of my very being
Seems to be dangling like
A spider from its web.
My web, My own bondage.
I am just waiting
For that gust of icy wind
Harbinger of release.
Release ? Ney... Freedom.
I am waiting
To be free from myself.
The hope is stronger
Than Nihilistic truth.
I know that the icy wind will come.
Ah...That icy wind.
Till then, I will dangle
Like a question mark
On my web.
GOD’S GIFT
God took the crimson hue
Of rising sun From the Horizon,
And put the shyness of
A fawn on her cheeks'
He took the twinkle of stars
Of which dreams are made,
And Bright bolt of lightening to
Put in her long lashed eyes.
Next he took the crests of
Playful and snow white
Warm summer sea waves
To adorn her innocent bosom.
He stole the heady musk
From the deer and
Sheen of shining pearls
And anointed her body.
God then borrowed the
Sound of tinkling bells
And mixed with some mischief
And put it in Her laughter.
He took the pink colour of roses
And a little kohl
He mixed it with honey
And smeared it on her lips.
Last he took a little dark secret
From his creation of universe
And lovingly hid it under her belly.
For the mother of future.
Then he opened the door
To send off her childhood
And let her Youth in.
Today she became sixteen
Nichiro
SAILING ON SANDS
Your week end results in weakened spirits,
You go on a binge and forget the limits.
When curtain of weekends falls for the week,
You look for Aspirins and pot o' coffee you seek.
On top of this you read Nichiro's poems,
They confront you like Red Indian totems.
The conscience refuses to sit down and think.
Nichiro has no work and is wasting his ink.
He talks of young girls and childhood they lost,
Of women whose boats are too far from coast.
He speaks of tears and the happiness not felt,
How can such things not let hearts to melt?
We try to forget our pains and our woes,
For people at work are always on their toes.
Bosses are bossy and the collegues not kind
All these results in getting people in bind.
But we live only for self and not for others,
Our pains , our problems we think only as ours.
Like ostrich which bury their heads in sands,
We lock the conscience and never open till end.
Out there are those girls and women who have,
No hopes for future, no love and who crave,
For freedom from hell in which they find,
Their wings are cut off and legs in a bind.
I am not a preacher, and I am not a saint
I am a person who writes their complaint.
If you want to do something, lend them your hand
Write, think and spread this message my friend
Nichiro
Being An Indian
Being an Indian, is Appearing
On front page of Times of India
As common man of substance.
DEEWAR
Log kehte they ki Deewar ke oospaar,
Anjaan log rehte hain,
Bade khufnaak log hain woh.
Pith pe waar karte hain.
Ek din humein tak mili,
Diwar kudkar hum gaye oospaar.
To hamne dekha,
Ki wahan hamare jaisa hi ghar hai.
Wahi aangan,wahi khet, wahi khaliyan.
Wahi Ma, Wahi bahan aur wahi dost.
Wahi geet, wahi sangeet.
Wahi gham the aur wahi Khushiyan.
Ek sakhsh ko ghar ke baahar dekha.
Dekha to woh main hi tha.
Main hi dono aur rehta tha.!
To phir yeh deewar ka wazood kya tha?
Us deewar ki dono aur
woh khaufnaak santari Kaun the ?
Ek hi jaat thi magar Uniform alag the.!
Aur us deewar pe siyasat kyon karte the ?
Kuch logon ko jinhe
Hamne Mantri banaaye,
Wohi log aaj santari ban baithe hain,
Diwar ko khuda banakar.
Khudh unke bande ban firte hain,
Yeh diwar hi badi badsurat bala hai,
Jaan khaati hai logon ki,
Khoon piti hai pyaas buzaane.
Diwar ke thekedaaron ne,Sab ke,
Jeene marne ka intezaam kar rakha hai.
Santari sab Insaaniyat kha chuke hain,
Aur Diwar Insaano ko khati hai.
Koi muze batao,o mere humdum,
In darindo ka kya karen?
Jinhon ne Diwar ke naam par
Siyasat ki kilein gaadi hui hai?
Khud to diwar ke naam par Apana aashiyana
Banate hain,aur dono aur se Main,
Is khun ki pyasi Diwar mein
Dhire dhire Jinda chuna jaata hun.
Nichiro
"STILL BORN"
She brought forth her child
With last heave to her tired womb.
"Indhu saniyan, pombale pulle petthiiruukka" Achi cried.
The shout rang in darkness,
Tearful eyes wanted to see first newborn
And sing her first lullaby.
Her thighs were still quivering
Blood soaked,child with her umbellical chord
Hung upside down dripping blood.
"Itthe enna cheiyaunum?chollu Ma "
"Indhaa aiyinoor rupa," Achi said with contempt
seiya vendidhu sei...puranjadha?"
Midwife, gave the last look,
Pressed the struggling newborn's nose and mouth
Soon the feeble movements ceased.
A shallow pit was dug.
Bundle of flesh who was a girl,
Was buried. Declared "still born"
Nichiro
STILL BORN II
Dear Girl child,
The biggest irony is,
People talk about ,
People read about ,
People discuss about ,
People debate about
The need
To prevent female Foeticide
As dinner discussion.
You come in,
When all have left
To collect the empty plates.
And clean the mess.
Tomorrow,
There will be another day,
Another discussion.
More beer glasses,
More empty plates.
And your subject,
My dear child,
Will be discarded
Like The empty
Sucked out bone,
Left for the dogs.
Nichiro
MY SKY
I have carried
The weight of my sky
All along .
Now I feel
That the sky
And me are both
Alone in our company.
My Past, present
And future, bound
By a silken snake
Is adding on
To the burden.
My sky
Has refused to share
Its space with
My hopes and Aspirations.
And it has closed
All the directions.
My innerself
Is now impatient
To sever its bond
With this body
And merge with
My sky.
Let me find myself
An iota of space
Where my sky is not there,
To let go
Of my baggage.
Can I ? Will I?
Nichiro
MY SUN IS BURIED
They start their hunt
Even before I am born,
I am marked for death
From the womb I am torn.
My grave is never marked
My journey
Is of just minutes,
From womb to tomb
If they let me live,
They remove my path
From under my feet.
Then They destroy
My destination.
My feet have nowhere to go,
I will never reach anywhere
Because I will never
Start for anywhere.
My day will never start
As they have buried my sun.
My eyes will have nothing to see
As my Sun will never light up.
And my Rainbow will have
only black colour.
What's my fault O Lord,
Are all Gods men ?
Why am I made
unwritten history ?
Is it because I am
just a girl child ?
Nichiro
SON
Tears started flowing
from her vacant eyes.
Her deeply lined
sunken cheeks quivered
with every sob that escaped
Her chocked throat.
"God,"she said, "Do not give anybody sons"
Look at me , a mother of three I am
Rotting in this old age home."
How I wish I had at least
A daughter who whould understand
My pains and would be here
To wipe my tears.
A son is no boon
And a daughter is no burden."
I just stood rooted
Holding her cold hand.
I couldn't even cry
Because I too was a son
Of my Mother.
Nichiro
YOG NIDRA
It is so quiet now.
Drudgery of
Dragging
A life
Shackled to
A body
has ceased.
Peace has started
descending
Like white fleece
In winter.
Soon the snow
Of eternal silence
Will cover
Nothingness,
which sleeps after
Ingesting the alphabets.
No more
Tick,,,Tock..Tick ..Tock
sound of time
Trudging besides me,
shuffling on three feet.
I rose high
By light years
As my frail Shoulders
Let go the Atlas
of my Ego.
Now my palms hold
No Past Present
Or future.
Eternity clothed in
Black beckons me
To sleep and merge
With her.
"Esto perpetua Esto perpetua"
Nichiro
HELPLESSNESS
It flows
From the eyes
Of Aged parents
Left to die
A slow death
In old age homes.
It is heard in
Slent sobs
of those
Innocent girls
Rotting in
Hovels like Kamathipura.
It is blackened gash
On the twisted neck
Of a hanging body
of a young HIV wife
of an unfaithful man.
Nichiro
HELPLESSNESS II
FUTURE AT CROSS ROADS
Her four year old
Eyes were riveted
To the signal lights.
No sooner did
The amber change to red,
She trotted
Towards the barely halting
vehicles spewing smoke
From the exhaust pipes.
She looked like a rag doll,
With matted unkempt hair.
Her small dirt smeared face
Showed red rimmed eyes
From which
Twin furrows of dried tears
could be seen.
She raised herself
On toes and thrust
Her one little palm
Turned upwards
with bent fingers
And the other hand
Feebly tapping
Dark tinted closed
Car window
Begging for coins.
From the back seat,
The fiery pedigree dog
Furiously barked and
lunged at the closed window
Trying to devour
Our Future,
that was
Begging the Present
For her Today
And Tomorrow.
Nichiro
Sounds of silence
O "Silence" ,
Your alphabet
Has only
one consonant,
Which has many sounds.
The sound of silence
In a childless home
Is different from
A child sleeping
In a mother's lap.
The sound of silence
In a graveyard
Is different from
Empty labour room
In a hospital.
The sound of silence
Heard by a mute child
Is different from
The silence locked
In a teacher's stick.
The sound of silence
Just before the storm
Is different from
The deathly silence
That prevails after the storm.
O "Silence ,
Your alphabet
Has only
one consonant,
Which has many
Sounds."
Nichiro
part II
SILENCE!!!
Shhhhhh !!
Let me be.
I am
opening wounds
On my hurt soul
And
With the
droplets of
Pain that
Oozes out,
I am painting
My poetry.
Nichiro
GOD'S ABODE
God said'
"Only Naked people
can enter Heavens.
So remove all you are
covered up with, then
The doors of
Heaven
will open up for you.
Those of you
Who cannot ,
Will form another line
over there."
He pointed to a small gate.
Soon the endless line
Of hopeful pious souls
Stood stark naked.
After some time,
Leaving a heap
of covers
I went and stood
At the small gate.
"Why are you at this gate?"
God asked
"O my Lord"
I bowed and said,
" I tried removing my covers
one after the other,
The covers which I had used
To cloth my true self.
At the end of it all,
I saw an animal
Underneath.
So I came to this gate.
Come in My son"
God opened the small gate
"welcome to my home
You will stay with me"
And what about others?
I asked,
"They Go to Heaven"
He smiled.
Nichiro
BLINDNESS
I spent my time
Looking for mountains
When God had left
Opportunities in
Small pebbles.
I spent my time
Looking for torrents
For my parched throat
When God had stored
Water in clouds.
I spent my time
Looking for blessings
In abodes of worship
When God had put them
In Thankful eyes of
Suffering and needy.
I spent my time
Looking for time
In watches and clocks
when God had spread it
All around me for ever.
Nichiro
HAND IN HAND
I trudge on an
Endless unknown path.
Many a soul I meet
But who
Shall walk till the end?
Though weary,
The task
I must complete.
Will you walk
Hand in Hand along?
Afraid as I am
That you may go
Your way,
Yet I crave
Your nearness.
Will you walk
To the life's end?
Hand in hand?
Nichiro
RATIONAL STORY
"God", said my grandpa,
Was made of Truth,
And Goodness.
He was all powerful.
He had endless form.
Un surpassed beauty.
He was always with people
As their Friend and Guide.
With people's Love,
He grew and remained Almighty.
But he always had
To depend upon
People's Faith
People's Goodness
And their Truth,
To be that way.
"Then why can't we
See Him now?" I asked.
"Because," said Grandpa,
"Now God is
An ethereal form
As collective goodness
Faith and Truth
Which people possessed,
Have vanished .
They can't see Him
Now they have established
A new faith.
A product of Unseeing eyes,
Unfeeling heart,
Unbelieving mind,
And an absent conscience.
In that they believe,
They call it
"ATHEISM"
Nichiroojii
The Mountain
The old woman said
Goddess of Fate
wrote your future
On your forehead
On the sixth day after
You were born.
As is written,
You will climb and cross
Just one mountain
To reach bliss
And salvation that you seek.
"But O revered one,
"Through the time
Of life that I have lived
I have undertaken
This arduous climb
Which never seems to end.
This frightening mountain
Seems to grow more and more
With every step I climb.
When will this climb
And my pains end?
When will I cross the mountain?"
What is the name
Of this mountain?
I asked with tired voice,
'It is up to you my son,
when to end
Your climb and cross over.
"Spoke the old woman
You are climbing a mountain
Which is called Karma.
Nichiroojii
[/tscii:199884b5ca]
Nichiro
27th January 2007, 05:14 AM
Your Memories
I am wandering through
The corridors of time
Clutching the hand
Of yesterday,
Lest I miss
The count of every moment
I spent with you.
I could hear that
Silent whisper
When you were in my arms
And spoke with
your closed eyes
And Pounding heart
That you were mine.
Now I am sifting the sands
Of your memories
Searching for moments
When I did not think of you
So that I can atone for
Those times
By burning my soul.
Nichiroojii
Nichiro
28th January 2007, 04:42 AM
PP Madam & Crazy,
Thanks for your kind appreciation.
I, According to my horoscope , have entered a phase of " Unknown" which I am enjoying .
This phase seems to bring torrent of poetic thoughts whch I immediately key down (now no more pen and paper).
Keep encouraging me friends and also criticize whenever you feel you need to.
Nichiroojii
Nichiro
28th January 2007, 06:13 AM
Inner Universe
Vortex of time playing
Its banshee wail of
crying of dyeing moments ,
Is a witness to
The ravage that my mind
Has gone through
With the unending births of
Grotesque mutant thoughts.
The inner space that melts
Into inky nothingness
seems to devour reasons
Of my being and my soul
Which trembles
With every moment
That dies untimely death.
Could this vortes
That harbours all the reasons,
All the questions and
All the answers
Give itself rest and Let
The cosmic spring Sprout
The seed of new universe?
Nichiroojii
sundararaj
28th January 2007, 06:39 PM
PP Madam & Crazy,
Thanks for your kind appreciation.
I, According to my horoscope , have entered a phase of " Unknown".......
Keep encouraging me friends and also criticize whenever you feel you need to.
Nichiroojii
Have I not appreciated u :o :shock: :? Just scroll down and c who is first to reply!
Nichiro
28th January 2007, 07:28 PM
PP Madam & Crazy,
Thanks for your kind appreciation.
Nichiroojii
Have I not appreciated u :o :shock: :? Just scroll down and c who is first to reply!
Pallayirum dhaduve Mannipu ketkiren.
Sunderraj Sir, I am deeply sorry, I overlooked your's and Shaktiprabha's names I also forgot to write my friend querida's name.
Thanks dear Rasigan.
I hope I have not hurt you . If so, please forgive this old thatha.
Nichiroojii
sundararaj
30th January 2007, 09:19 PM
Pallayirum dhaduve Mannipu ketkiren.
Sunderraj Sir, I am deeply sorry, I overlooked your's and Shaktiprabha's names I also forgot to write my friend querida's name.
Thanks dear Rasigan.
I hope I have not hurt you . If so, please forgive this old thatha.
Nichiroojii
:notworthy: :notworthy: :notworthy:
Nichiro
25th February 2007, 10:50 PM
I had forgotten that I have opened a single poem thread. So re-posting this poem in correct slot.
SEARCH
Behind the waves of words, meanings get lost
Like the ships in Bermuda triangle.
They surface like floating ghosts clothed in
Questions that have no answers .
Below the cobbled stones,paths get lost,
Like generations of people who walked on them.
They surface like mirage on the sand dunes
Of scattered memory that clouds the time.
Under the colourful masks, real faces get lost
Like shyness on prostitue's faces.
They surface like cruel reminders
Of ageing truth eating away conciences.
Within "Me ", "I "and "Mine"; I am lost somewhere
Behind words, below the paths and under the mask.
Let me surface from this body of nohingness
Like The glorious Sun that rises in the east.
Nichiro
crazy
26th February 2007, 12:37 AM
Within "Me ", "I "and "Mine"; I am lost somewhere
Behind words, below the paths and under the mask.
Let me surface from this body of nohingness
Like The glorious Sun that rises in the east.
:clap:
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