The Beggar Boy
By Nikesh Murali
Here comes the beggar boy,
His face betrays a hapless ploy.
His thin, scarred hands outstretched,
Palms like a bowl of skin upheld.
Burrows run down his tearful eyes,
Sores even the bravest would despise.
A few coins tinkling in his pocket,
Dark and anguished his sockets.
Fleas rose from his eyebrows.
As if from a decaying dog.
A nauseating odour rose,
As if he were a bog.
Pathetic a cry erupts,
So sordid it disrupts.
Blatant recurring requests.
My hand reaches into a basket.
Can a pleasant scent erase,
This living portrait of disgrace.
I hang my head in shame,
Before the beggar boy lame
The Window
By Nikesh Murali
The window says many things,
It lets in the breeze and sings.
Bangs to let you know the wind is strong,
When locked, keeps away doers of wrong.
Earplugs for the moaning wind,
A hard ball shortens the stint.
A drum during rainfall,
Pulsating, throbbing, et al.
Free music on your sill,
Raindrops reminding you of Jack and Jill.
Sometimes full of pimples,
When lightening strikes it trembles.
Canvas for neon lights,
Fleeting glimpses trite.
Chauffeuring morning, day and night.
Stylish, four-cornered sights.
In the Park
by Nikesh Murali
Today in the park,
I noticed with a spark.
A four-year-old running around.
In squeaky leather her feet bound.
Clasped to her chest is a frivolous balloon.
The time my watch announced was three past noon.
In a moment of revelation my mind crooned,
The truth about fate, chance and tune.
She clutched the thing as if it were her heart,
The children around her were less smart.
Bang! Their balloons went one by one.
Most blamed other kid’s, flies and the sun.
They chased the young one to snatch the catch.
Her tiny feet and light balloon, were no match,
It lifted off, then crashed and thrashed.
The balloon stayed, it did not blast.
So fragile, yet so resilient.
Misfortune is a treacherous bend.
Fate and chance are like the balloon,
A marvel the hands of time prune
from Book of Love:by Nikesh Murali
Tonight the rains brought with it the promise of fresh love,
Like an unexpected letter filled with verses of fondness
And the words written with your blood grew wings
And emerged from its cocoon of loneliness
Like a butterfly.
Did your lips crave for the taste of raindrops?
Or was it my imagination that led me to believe
That you were feeding on honey all your life;
So often that your words were coated with its sweetness
And fell from your lips like a cascading waterfall.
I heard your heart, I smelled your love
And I saw beauty in the locks of your hair.
But did I see you weep, my love…
Was it a tear that fled from your eyes?
That eloped with the cold rain,
Leaving you shivering and searching for the warmth of a tranquil sun.
Tonight the rains bring desire to my doorstep,
Thoughts of you like burning embers
And the rain murmurs,
It shares my love for you with the trees
And makes the thirsty earth thirstier.
The poem is reprinted from my collection "Book of love" complete with beautiful sketches by Queensland artist Krystal Lee Huff. To order the book kindly write in to books@digitalprintaustralia.com with (a) the book title BOOK OF LOVE (b) QUOTE NO BK1379-P (c) Your mailing address. Alternatively you can phone them +61882323404
As you slip into the realm of dreams,
Nocturnal butterflies arouse flowers.
Unable to bear the ardour of winged lovers the night faints.
The last hours of the night haunt me like a ghost.
I write your name on rose petals made even more crimson by the absence of light
I am watching you from my seat next to the fireplace;
Your restless eyelids…
The crackling flames seem to compete for my attention
As I gaze upon your form…
As I undress you with my eyes.
The clock moves its arms in silence
And the shadows of the night create paintings on the wall.
The divine white flowers of the dark world outside my window
Urge me to reach out and touch you.
They whisper…and my heart whispers back!
The warmth of the flames create bridges of soft light between us.
Maybe it’s time…
Maybe it’s time to wake you up with my lips -
To lift you from the depths of a lake in some fantastic dreamscape
And give you the gift of life.
As I near you,
My eyes trace the shape of your lips-
Faint yet alluring,
Even in this cruel gloom.
The poem is reprinted from my collection "Book of love" complete with beautiful sketches by Queensland artist Krystal Lee Huff. To order the book kindly write in to http://mail.google.com/mail/books@digitalprintaustralia.com with (a) the book title BOOK OF LOVE (b) QUOTE NO BK1379-P (c) Your mailing address. Alternatively you can phone them +61882323404
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