Mallika Achuthan Menon
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Mallika Achuthan Menon Poems
He was walking with a stick By counting each and every step With a white cane, his support. Miseries depicted well on his face
A Second Childhood
Another name of agedness is, A second childhood sure it is. Who told this sentence I don't know yet, But a lot of sense it has, I will bet!
The broad and well kept thoroughfare Got cuddled with its heavy traffic. The town was over crowded with folks of each and every league.
When two sets of shining eyes One day met with each other Then an untold story just begun Our own love story, my dear...
Amidst the hustle and bustle of day Can I be in your thoughts, my dear? Why did my mind who is acting childlike, Taxing me by asking this
O' My Love
Either you stay wide awake Or you are in the depth of sleep No matter for me, O' my dear! I am with you, like your own shadow
Sun and dawn came hand in hand and started painting crimson shade all over the sky with great ardour. One golden ray just fell on my face
That night it was drizzling nonstop, Every where there spread a cryptic silence, What made me wake up, I just wondered! Naively sat there idle and watched the standstill nature,
The Moon And Me
With groups of tiny twinkling stars The glittering diamonds of the sky I was waiting for you moon Down on earth patiently.
From dawn to dusk without a stop The sun was shuttling east to west As it was never ending course of action, He needed some rest so badly.
The potential to love is a gift from God. To be loved is meant for only those who have luck.
The dense flocks of dark nimbus clouds Had caused the sky to look gloomy The sky had vaguely tried and failed To conceal all her own agonies.
You and me and everyone's mind are filled with hundred thousand thoughts. They come and go with lightning speed Change off and on in pace of light.
In between the birth and death Life is flowing like a river We are fine drawn lines on water The lines vanishing in a wink.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
He was walking with a stick
By counting each and every step
With a white cane, his support.
Miseries depicted well on his face
No life was seen in both of his eyes
as he was blind all through his life.
Sight is a boon to all of us
I thanked Almighty then and there
As I can see this wonderful world.
Two of them looked weak and filthy
The flames of hunger were engulfing them
The mother and child begged for alms
None noticed their sigh or cry
Poverty is a curse indeed
But I am blessed and protected well
from the pangs of poverty.
Then and ...