The Void.

   The Void.

The echoes in a void mind

Are like still born babies.

One who cannot and does not love,

Sees the emptiness exploding

Into atoms of annoying nothing.

A mind filled with warmth of love

Rejuvenates, reverberates and is heard

Like  the cries of healthy babies born to rule.

God takes a holiday from shrines
Crowded with picnic thoughts 
Rather than souls seeking solace.

The presence of God is in the gathering

Of those who assemble never to dissemble.

Prayers emanating from patterns of true love

Reach the ears of God in their original form.

The voice of the Supreme, with its wield

Makes resplendent  responses to those

That replenish love and joy and hope for all.

All holy books hold on to one decoding device.

But man tries to decode them with different tools.

Stand, kneel, prostrate; but pervert not the path,

With traffic encumbrances of echoes of emptiness .

                                               P.Chandrasekaran.

My Winter Days in Chicago..

          My Winter Days in Chicago.

 ===========================

The Navy Pier charm and Napervile calm

Make Chicago a place of free, fleeting form.

The brutal wind here, blows hot and cold,

Cutting the warmth into a whipping mold;

Like a butcher’s bold knife battering in gore,

In a pair of riding rapacious hands that soar.

The skins used to the scathing, chill weather,

Brace the wind, striking its sheen to wither.

But those new to the soil and its savage wind,

Are set to suffer its strokes for want of a rind.

Life in this zone for natives, is lived in its best;

For those visiting in winter, it is a litmus test.

The once a way trip to the august,Aurora shrine,

Keeps the body and mind protected, fit and fine.

                                                 P.Chandrasekaran.

Prophetic Clippings.

    Prophetic Clippings.

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

Life’s tricky shots were those

That exposed the intricate designs

From the never expected quarters.

The silent inner voice turned shaky for a while.

The click of the camera was casual.

What came in the picture, was not of course

On the agenda of the photographic schedule.

While the focusing was accidental,

The attached shocks were incidental.

Casual clippings at times carry, count downs

On subtle revelations of a rudderless sailing

With those believed to protect;

Controlled shots are those that hide

Falsehood with a kind of fellow feeling.

Intrusions inherit clues for the future. 

                                      P.Chandrasekaran.

Sham Sympathies.

             Sham Sympathies.

Cruising on the Caribbean Sea,

As I did last, on the Atlantic waters,

The repeat course of the line of buffets

And the heap of food that was wasted

As a privilege of paid navigation,

Hit me hard with the impoverished faces

Failing repeatedly to have access to

Something to eat once a way.

The voice of hunger surpassed

The surge of enjoyment, in a large scale.

The punching cry of poverty

Would grudge my indulgence,

Mocking at my manipulative qualms.

                                 P.Chandrasekaran.

                           

At The Daycare.

     At The Day Care.

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

Mom and dad love me a lot

Not to put me ever in a spot.

They want me to grow up

Toeing their likes and dislikes;

None of my needs ever let down,

They dream,design and do all for me.

I play and sleep and learn for a while,

All through the days of the whole week .

The weekends wind up like wee hours,

Passing out soon, for the other week.

Mom and dad give me gladly all I want,

Except their time, that has my taunt.      

                         P.Chandrasekaran.