Ananta Madhavan Poems

Strolling in the British Museum one day in London,
I paid silent homage to the manuscripts.
Shakespeare mortgaging his house for sixty pounds;
Kings acknowledging messages;
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1. Fooling Around

Round and round we went and found
That we were only roaming round,
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Since boyhood I have felt melodic tunes
That lingered unbeknown within my pulse
In rhythmic beats I was not taught to scan;
Wavelets of words and phrases reached my feet,
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When lover lies with lass,
Locked in a monogram,
Their love could be a sham,
For each one loves alone
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Life will be
A page to me,
A page which I must fill
According to my skill,
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Why run out of themes, would-be writer?
I glance through Thomas Hardy's verses.
Wish I could write them out anew:
'After a Journey'
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He quoted from the stars as though that proved the point;
Sensing drama in the turn of a car at the gateway,
Or the fall of a letter on the doormat,
Like a sigh of desolate waiting;
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To know a face
Return a thousand times,
And scrutinise
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1. Airport


Painter fog prepares the broad glass panes.
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Fire builders, we shall pile the twigs
Here in this square of sacrifice,
Here in this place of sacrifice,
Here in this home of fire
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