Treasure Island

Indira Renganathan


A Flower To Auroville Mother 28


Kodi sampangi, (chambangi, Telosma minor,
Telosma cordata)

Yellow-green pale in subdued hidden silence
Sparse and scarce and slack you're this day
Of mechanised life moulded of machines, mindless
Man to remind and commend you to world of today
Yet of your fragrance divine in evening bloom
A rare beatitude hued creamy in dulcet nightfall
Leafing hearts supporting along the vine as you groom
Bewitched people some treasure you in closer hearts
Salient, sanative cupped perfume an abundant spray
In grip of a hardy trunk as you blossom in clusters
Of culinary exotica too, Telosma, what else? 'Hurray...Hurray..'

Submitted: Thursday, October 14, 2010
Edited: Friday, October 15, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Flower To Auroville Mother 28 by Indira Renganathan )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. 52!, Edward Kofi Louis
  2. Between War And Freedom, Edward Kofi Louis
  3. For the first time, Joni Lenhart
  4. Slowly-so-Slowly,, Aftab Alam
  5. Her Spirit Sings for Him, Maia Padua
  6. I Am Cast To The Sky, Richard Provencher
  7. Sweet Victory, Edward Kofi Louis
  8. Gorgon With Hair Threatening, Margaret Alice Second
  9. Sober Song, Barton Sutter
  10. I Love Your Crazy Bones, Barton Sutter

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]