poetlost's profile

Beyond our last tomorrow By: Theena Kumaragurunathan Love comes in four seasons: Spring, when the heart's flower blooms To the gentle rays of young love; Summer sees the flower become The root of greater gardens; Autumn and the flower begets The remembrance of its past so joyous; Winter comes last - not harsh nor cold Yet unwelcome still for its promptitude. I speak of the spring of our love - The dawning of metamorphosis most beautiful. I greet the sun with a smile on my face, I long to beho...

As daylight waltzed away, night swung in, and silence drowned out the last decibel of sound, I woke up to the sounds of my own screaming. High notes of anguish. My dreams transformed me into a tenor of woe. The mirror in front of my bed reflected my weary sweat-soaked face, and the smiling moon outside the window. Full moon. Elsewhere in the city, religious festivals were probably underway to mark Vesak. Here, yours truly began another nocturnal day of looking over my shoulder, shouting at im...

By: Theena Kumaragurunathan 2005 When love is a syllable and I am blind, Morning brings a sunset so unkind, When words and thoughts are distant foes, You and I are indisposed, When you float down the Nile - A Cleopatra whose farewell is not worthwhile - Eighteen, Oh sweet eighteen, A number so sweet I had to ask, Who writes my scripts, my lady? The first and second act, I wasn't there; The third brought love, I was vaguely aware; Then the lights dimmed, Curtains closed, I read the line: Seven...

By: Theena Kumaragurunathan Till the tides of life lead me to fairer shores, I shall love thee and carry these sores, Till the wind blows me westward to the setting flame, More verses shall be inspired by thy name, Till this love be buried in the sand, Just once I desire to hold your hand, Till this chapter of life be studied and done, I am earth and you are the sun, Till love be gone and love be done, Then the tides of life have led me to fairer shores.

By: Theena Kumaragurunathan I asked the officer, "What of my son? Is he on his way home In uniform sparkling bright? Or is he carrying a flag so white, And prolonging your plight?" He looked at me, Face sincere yet eyes untrue, A 'patriot', I thought, A father of a soldier he was too - The Happy-if-alive and Proud-if-dead type; Empathy, he never knew. He led me into that room, Where sons of our flag lay, Neatly lined - sons, caskets and flags - While tears I sought, And tears I fought, For t...