I've always aspired to be a poet but career interests being away from this, this passion remained unaddressed and even forgotten till recently. Now that it has resurfaced, it's an enjoyable pastime - searching for right poem topic, then creating word strings to make verses and finally uploading a poem that pleases my mind and heart. At the end of a two- or three-hour exercise resulting in ... more »
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Padmanabhan Ananth Poems
He stands there sadly in a street corner Rust eating metal, fading yellow colour Possibly years back quite many He'd have trundled but majestically
My First Blessing
A score of years ago at our home town When your mom's wheeled to labour room Faraway, I entered my new job's interview room I much missed your life's earliest moment!
Oh Nirbhaya, have we lost you in vain? Was it you to blame to just be a woman? That you didn't remain home past setting sun?
Poem, Must You Rhyme?
Very many tutors of poem Say poems need not really rhyme They need not have any metre Nor even a basic structure
Do you, of the fine Sunday evening's moment When the nurse, wrapped you in tiny blanket You were just born, the last day of February Your mommy still recovering from delivery?
Shame At Bhiwandi
A radical spoke on religion A politician condemned him And all hell broke loose In the name of God
So do we at all now need a debate truly About this: the humble cup of coffee? May be necessary, may not be obligatory But I'm starting one through this poetry!
That mystery 777 Boeing That flew off KL for Beijing Onboard those 240 dreams
New Year's Cheer
What's in a New Year's Day, I did wonder? Just another day in the Gregorian calendar? Romans did consecrate, it to the great Janus To face past-n-future, the God's two faces.
Scents at Sunset
There are many of these shrubs around this place Evergreen bushy leaves, seeming ready to embrace But only few months in a year bloom they will
I’ve had this rather pleasant dream A few times in the past in this lifespan:
Whizzing poles made strange wind-tunes Cool gusts from windows glided over my face Coveted seat reserved with effort On journey doze, can't waste even a minute!
The Golden Guest
He came home with me carefully wrapped in my suitcase All the way from Delhi
Prayers & Prescriptions
She's, on my mom's side, a first cousin A chirpy cheerful octogenarian With ever an old-world charm And smile that will instantly disarm
(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)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
He stands there sadly in a street corner
Rust eating metal, fading yellow colour
Possibly years back quite many
He'd have trundled but majestically
Would have driven him, a proud driver
Cautiously over tar and gravel mixture
To make roads wheels can merrily fly on
To make folks whistle when driving on
He'd have demanded so much attention
On repairs, re-paints and so much clean
He'd have been a gas guzzler, undoubted
But he's big, so all that he'd have needed
Where gone are his drivers, his owner
Where gone are them who once did care