Ananta Madhavan Poems
Order Out Of Chaos
Panting up the slopes
With the wind brewing in the trees,
And the mountain line like a row
Of aged teeth decaying,
And the cold air in hunger
Nibbling at my warmth,
I think of the jagged beauty that disturbs
The neatly ordered boxes of my mind;
And I think of the rich irrelevance around me,
And I know that I will never smooth
The scarred and pimpled visage of the earth,
Nor rearrange the scattered stars
In jewelled patterns.
I have no secrets from the mocking peak.
A Cynic Turns Away
Speak true, they said
and sniggered when I took them at their word.
Play fair, they said,
Winking as they cheated me and others.
You will learn the rules as you go on;
If you win, you're one of us.
If you lose, we disown you.