New Year Song, Jan 1 ,2013

   

            Happy New Year 2013.

 Birds fledged, after a neat nestling schedule,

 Take their wings tactfully, to  newer zones;

 They browse beforehand, their comfort levels.

 Babies have their trials of tummy times,

 Crawling sessions, before they sit up,

 And learn to walk and run on their own.

 Quest is always the best base for active living.

 Time sets the starting point for all moves.

 Rhyme and reason need their respective websites

 For positioning globally, the targeted destinations.

 No one can veto the voice of obstructions.

 But one can gag it, with preemptive vigilance.

 All seeing eyes see; some make a vision.

 As saying something differently, makes new sense,

 Doing something unlikely, speaks of magnificence.

 All leading movements emerge from the enthusiasts.

 The exits to new terrains are mazy and manifold.

 To route and reach with a range, is in one’s hold.

                                       P.Chandrasekaran.                                   

Christmas Song.

   

                  Christmas Song Dec.25,2012

                 ================================

 Christmas is a celebration in aesthetics.

 Bethlehem was the centre from where,

 Beauty began its breezy flow in all fineness.

 The stars that guided the Magi,

 Were drawn over there by a fascinating flash.

 The symmetry behind the crib and the Christmas tree

 Was the synopsis of a structural evolution

That placed the form of beauty

 Far beyond its skin-deep formulations

 Of  a  static sensuous pattern.

Christmas characterized beauty

As a growing, governing and galvanizing course.

There is beauty in the flow of blood

Running through our veins and arteries

Like the beauty of the psalms flowing into our souls.

The delight of Christmas is in the dynamics of love,

That makes each one’s life a carry on process

Holding closely to each one’s thoughts

The crystal concept of beauty as truly as,

The beautiful words adorning the pages of the Bible.

                                                                                   P.Chandrasekaran.

The Bleeding Schoolbags.

          The Bleeding Schoolbags.
       ======================  

      The school bags lie forlorn;
      The little limbs that carried them,
      With beaming morning smiles,
      Were found bleeding under the grip of
      A gory dance of death.
      A dreadful so called disorder,
      Tore to pieces,in maniac mode
      Life's pretty pages of innocence
      At the turn of a couple of guns.       
      The school bags sadly shrunk;      
      The stained books spread a look of horror,
      At the sight of bloody strokes,
      converting the children's class rooms
      In to a morgue for a mass funeral. 
      Who gave the cranky brains
      The right to claim others' tombs ?
      How far will the guns'tentacles zoom
      To drive dainty lives into their dreary doom?    
                                             P.Chandrasekaran.     

The Masks.

          The Masks.

    Looks are an alibi of the under trials.
    Smiles are facial lines drawn,
    To cover up and conceal structural defects.
    Words are winning sugar candies,
    Melting moulding minds into scapegoats. 
    Tears are like treacle toffees,
    Made through a chemical processing
    Of lachrymal compositions,
    Sticking one's emotions with others'.
    Ready made laughter chips,
    Bring a new look to the monitor,
    Rendering the original guffaws defunct.
    There are new privacy protocols,
    For protecting the true face,
    Through the Book and the Time
    Of the Electronic Face. 
    Seeing without being seen,
    Seeing what one is not really seeing,
    Are new lessons in visual communication.
    The varied veils of modernity
    Always have their whereabouts hidden.            
                                                          P.Chandrasekaran.

Fellow Feelings.

   

           Fellow Feelings.

You can not share my hunger;

But your food, you can;

You cannot feel my thirst,

Nor can you suffer my drought;

But your water you always can;.

You cannot share my death throes;

But you can postpone my death,

If not prevent me from dying.

When there is a mind to donate

One’s blood for those to survive,

Why this short term thought

That resources are mine and mine only?

The spirit of fellow feeling

Is not in sharing your surpluses

But in giving in to the voice of distress

By sharing something you need,

With someone whose life

Lies in your hands to lose or last.

                              P.Chandrasekaran.

The Pachyderms.

              The Pachyderms.
            ===============
         Beware of feelings!
         Freaks have no space in this domain.
         This is the land of killers of conscience.
         Words and visuals heard and seen, 
         Do not exist in their original form
         Tombs are built stronger than homes .
         The dead, worthy or not, are set,
         To reign from their tombs, as demigods.
         The living lie low, as earth worms,
         Entrenched to the soil without substance.
         No one is colur blind here,
         When it comes to battle for a race.
         Backward in thought,mortal brains mar;
         Downward to rot, the double tumblers are.
         We live with a spectrum full of scars,
         With no feelings of the wounds caused. 

                                    P.Chandrasekaran.