Rain-It’s the same ever - poem by m k harikumar

Rain. It kept on and on,
Sans any more emotions.
And on its way forward
No sign of man it did find.

Rain didn’t imagine anything.
But it just went on pouring in
As if it was up against all symbols
Still, it wasn’t able to see anyone.

Rain is a constant flow:
It never ever changes
Nor takes any refinement.
Even pouring, for ages thro’,

Rain-It’s the same ever - poem by m k harikumar

Rain. It kept on and on,
Sans any more emotions.
And on its way forward
No sign of man it did find.

Rain didn’t imagine anything.
But it just went on pouring in
As if it was up against all symbols
Still, it wasn’t able to see anyone.

Rain is a constant flow:
It never ever changes
Nor takes any refinement.
Even pouring, for ages thro’,

She who sells oranges-poem by m k harikumar

She came down
to a super-specialty street
to sell oranges.

The street kids who were sate
with too much oranges
had her skinned like an orange.

And they even had her dress off her
Just for the orange colour.
Without smelling or feeling it
They wrapped her face
With that yellow drape.

And for the red, the kids
went for her inner wears.
Still not feeling satiated
They exerted her breasts
and bled them out to their fill.

Who ever wasn’t able to scribble in
What all letters of their personal prowess
Right on her tongue!!!!
At last the sour and bitter
she spate out, alas,
did not have any colour.

Out of their dealings of alphabets,
Beguiling all the other colours,
she somehow learnt a thing or two.

It is with a little primitive fear
and anxiety that she learnt those scripts of the ancient tribes

She who sells oranges-poem by m k harikumar

She came down
to a super-specialty street
to sell oranges.

The street kids who were sate
with too much oranges
had her skinned like an orange.

And they even had her dress off her
Just for the orange colour.
Without smelling or feeling it
They wrapped her face
With that yellow drape.

And for the red, the kids
went for her inner wears.
Still not feeling satiated
They exerted her breasts
and bled them out to their fill.

Who ever wasn’t able to scribble in
What all letters of their personal prowess
Right on her tongue!!!!
At last the sour and bitter
she spate out, alas,
did not have any colour.

Out of their dealings of alphabets,
Beguiling all the other colours,
she somehow learnt a thing or two.

It is with a little primitive fear
and anxiety that she learnt those scripts of the ancient tribes

The Tigers -poem by m k harikumar

Those tigers go to the river
In groups, and drink water
and raise their heads in unison.

When they fall upon some prey
They eat it the same way, together.
But before this rare fiat
They would look at each other
As if they were up for a race.
They defecate together too.

However, they do not know how to eat.
But their master must keep them spoon-fed.
Thus roaring, mating, begetting, together,
and voicing lofty ideals in between
They kept on indulging themselves there.

The global committee constituted to study--
How man and woman could take a stance,
To claim for maternity allowances
and try vasectomy at the same time,
all the while stay cohabiting,
And thus bring in a closed world of theirs--
Has come in search of these tigers straight.

And these tigers stood
taking great pride, and laughed:
Describing their rare sterility
and the asexually obsequious humility
As an honour of some rare order.

The stink that laughter emitted
Left the whole ambience rejuvenated.

Then they thought ‘it makes sense’, somehow,
To manipulate their way into some textbooks.
They needn’t be afraid of anyone, in that case.


The best way to tide over
Chengaras* of any order
Is to be silent and sleeping deeply,
By reading every trash of news:
They took a firm resolve.

Chengara*

A state-citizen land dispute in Kerala which took proportions beyond civilized human endurance and comprehension. The State, instead of protecting the life and property of the citizens, took an inhuman stance wrecking untold misery to the affected poor.