Venkateswaran Krishnan Sreenivasan Poems

We were village urchins scantily clad
In loincloth, yet playful and glad,
One at one with Nature and living in the open
From dawn to dusk to the age of ten
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Nature’s wheel will turn and the seasons come and go;
The crops will grow and the rivers flow;
The blossoms, before the dawn their bosoms bare
And the birds on the birch trees chirp for those who care.
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Rest, the sweet sauce of labor, an ancient bard sang
Yet how elusive is Morpheus, is the insomniac’s pang
Hurt mind’s balm, sleep confers the calm
To the agitated mind shaken by harm
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Call a spade a spade and win offence
Or clothe your words in honey in defense
Even gestures without words make much sense
But euphemism is sheer nonsense
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May the flowering plants bloom
And dispel the gloom
From our homes and the street
Or wherever we meet
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I wake up to the cuckoo’s call
Every morning winter or fall
For stretching, aerobics and walk
Why I do this? I need to talk.
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The world hath no sorrow that death cannot efface
Nor any pain it cannot erase
Torment at worst invokes the last sleep
That ends it but makes mortals weep.
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How blessed are we on the face of this earth?
For living in mirth, there is no dearth
Of a peaceful hearth and attributes of health
Love, work, food and wealth
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A helpless infant at my mother’s breast,
Babbling and buoyant with zest;
Innocent and ignorant of my way
Or what will I be on a far off day.
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The last breath and then I become a stone;
Why congregate then to mourn to make me known?
Bury me or burn and leave me alone
Keep not my ashes in the urn.
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