Ananta Madhavan Poems

'All the world's a stage
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts.'
...

1.

The rapids of history leave us breathless as they happen.
If we are long-lived, they will rush by again in the future.
...

A winsome youth, whose visage bore
A galaxy of pimples on the forehead,
Noticed a girl running ahead
While tramping up a country road.
...

1.

Her bangled arm half resting on his torso,
That helmeted rider of the scooter-steed;
...

There is no word I know,
No analogy that will show
Or capture or condense
That peculiar sense
...

(Recalling a suburban Post Office in Madras,600031, now known as Chennai, in Tamil Nadu, India)


Under my black halo in the slant-less sun
...

1. Bone beauty we admire;
Better wait
Till we are skeletons.
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1
The mind is a chameleon,
Who takes its colour from the ambiance,
To fool whose eyes, O Lord, but Thine,
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There is no name for this hint of 'suchness'
Erupting through an ordinary day,
Not as a reasonable grief, a consequence
Of known bereavement, some interior death
...

I

The Tibetan waits for customers.
His high-boned face is flat,
...