The Emperor

The Emperor

The hush of the breeze,
and the trees beyond;
which shrug their leaves,
lest they make a sound;

THe plebs, the faex populi,
hushed were they too;
could hear the infant cry,
in an far abode afar;

Gray and black were,
the shirts , an the skirts;
distress on their faces
concern in their hearts;

The colours of the day,
sombre and sad;
Rainy clouds hung around,
in the dark gloomy sky;

And the sun hidden,
by the gloomy rainy cloud,
but strewn by the breeze,
thunder rumbling

courtiers, wise and brave,
O'er their faces, a grim blue,
eruditi and egregins,
of Kingdoms, distances afar,

Came the Kings and Queens
brought their princess too,
And the wisemen, And the thieves,
brought their proteges too.

They waited at the doorstep,
of the great mighty monarch;
And they waited at the doorstep,
of the great mighty monarch

The gates were huge,
dark and grey;
of gold they were,
gleaming a dull red

Two lions guarded the gates,
One at each end,
And they bared their fangs,
whites gleaming beneath.

Their paws of gold,
hung menacingly in air,
the fearful eyes shone,
glowing embers they were

Scary they were,
Even evil shunned away,
But alas! cannot scare they away,
the fearless footsteps of death.

Beyond the gates,
lay the palace;
magnificient in splendour,
cast in gloom.

Walls, a dark green,
royal resplendent green,
hung glorious trophies,
on many walls.

Many a painting too,
adorned these walls,
haunting they were,
few rare in the world

Many a story too,
had they to tell,
of wars fought,
of lives last

Even their melodies, drowned
under the silence of gloom,
the splenderous chandeliers hung,
like sun in midday sky.

Beshone they splendid light,
under the oily lamps,
Glittering like diamonds rare,
sparkling like the shimmering sun.

Wondorously bright they were,
scared the night away,
but even their splendid magnificience
cannot keep the dark footsteps of death away

Swords and scabbards hung on the green walls,
gleaming dull in the glow of the chandeliers,
the sharp painted and cavernous edge,
glorified by the enemy's blood

The mightiest and bravest enemy,
withered to shreds, they stood tall,
but even their glory in the battlefield,
cannot keep the irreversible footsteps of death away.

law beyond, the alley,
each brick a story to tell,
a conquest that had made,
the monarch to pride

The ladies cried too,
half in despair, an admiration,
THeir tiaras and jewels,
hung away in the deepest closet.

And they herd themselves away,
with black silks and satin,
wiped their tears away,
into the depths of women's heart.

For they stopped crying,
lest the silence disturbed away,
hid the truth, they,
deep within themselves

The trusted few,
sorrow in their heart,
remained in the palace,
for the word of the emperor.

law the might body,
its life ebbing away,
And death,
you could hear its footsteps.

air, filled with gloom,
the silence overbearing,
And it came, the truth of life,
the sounds echoeing the city walls.

The music of death,
a melancholy unchained,
hung in the air, lingering
for the moment to arrive.

And a frown came,
upon the mighty brow,
Ringing the tinkering bell,
"Water," he cried.

And the vassals rushed,
And the courtiers rushed,
they brought him water,
he sipped from an amber glass,

There he lay, the mighty monarch,
end staring at his way,
for he had but never lost,
nor could he win his final battle.

A mighty man he was,
he conquered lutetia,
he ruled Anglia,
And the immense asia hung at his feet.

Silently he stared
at the dying candle,
for his desire was still,
valient and unbroken.

And he fought with his will,
against the mighty death,
while his gaping wound bled,
the blood crimson red.

A sword had pierced
the abdomen open
but still he fought,
for he had a desire to live,

Many a promises, unkept,
Many a deeds, undone,
"And so", said the mighty monarch
"I shall not die."

The angel of death chided,
"you have lived your time"
neither, withholding to budge,
in the battle of life

And the angel said,
"thou hath done your work
and now O' great monarch
unhand me your soul."

The monarch valiant, fought on,
with his ironwilled desire,
And the angel spake,
"Death is your destiny."

The great monarch laughed,
a hollow, crackling laugh,
"thhou shall not speak, O' angel,
For I am the master of my destiny."

The angel smiled, a gentle smile,
Her voice echoed in the monarch's ear,
"your destiny hath written, O' monarch
by your deeds and actions."

"Ha!" the emperor cried,
"your heart is black, O' angel"
for you life, And he fought on,
with his ironwilled desire.

"O' young monarch, angels not falsify,
for destiny is destoned,
And all are but lies,
O'monarch , you are destined to die."

"Whither shall happen to the needy?
Whitehr shall happen to the meek?
Whither shall happen to my country?
for they are destined to live, aren't they"

"you hath lived your life,
and God awaits,
So shall you die,
for your judgment awaits"

"Whither have I sinned?"
the folks are merry,
And the hungry fed,
So have the guilty, punished.

"So shall you reap,
in the court above,
for your deeds pure,
so is your heart."

But the valiant monarch fought on, unconvinced.

"There is but one truth," the angel spoke,
birth and death,
everything is but false,
and born, shall you die.

The monarch thoughtful,
sorrow in his heart,
"Whither shall happen
to the noble land o' mine?"

"O'wiseman" said the angel,
you shall die, veracious it is,
but death , "Ah!"
tis only the beginning.

your spirit shall live on,
for your object divine,
And so shall thy be immortal,
until eternity of time

"O'ruler of many nations!
so repose down, conflict not thee,
slumber in peace,
And the agony shall go.

The shall you know,
about heaven, about hell,
about truth, about lie,
about God, about sin.

Shall thy see - the splendours of heaven,
the milky purity flows,
And shall you be judged,
by the holy one himself,

"But my tasks, undone," cried the Great Monarch

your name hath called,
and the great doors wide open,
the divine melodies,
a milky splendour

"And this, your duty, accept and die," spoke the angel.

The Great Monarch cried

Thou a liar, a temtous liar,
am strong, am strong and young
so shall I struggle,
so shall I breathe

O' angel of death,
Destony is written spoketh thee,
then shall a man really sin?
for it is written

Whence shall there be a Judgment,
for written it is a man shall sin,
A man's life, tis not his own, sayeth thee,
Whither shall that be plausible

And the Great Monarch spoke on,

"you speak of heaven,
you speak of the one above,
you speak of the judgment,
you speak of the origins,

But O' Angel of dark,
Whitehr shall I believe,
Whitehr shall I sacrifice,
for something I may have not but seen.

"You speak of truth,
of the lifes unkown,
but wither wonder I,
am I but a lie?"

Thoughts of my own,
wishes of my own,
so whither should I believe,
that everything is but a lie

Remind me of my duties,
speak of the one above,
"but O' angel of death,
"my Lord!, he lies in my heart!"

The evening came slowly from the west,
And the dark rainy clouds, still hung
The twitter of birds, heard,
chirping songs unknown

And, the people waited,
And, the scholars waited,
And, the Kings waited,
And, the women waited,

And, the lions waited,
And the chandeliers waited,
And the swords waited,
And so waited the pictrues

The gloom still hung in the air,
scent of death unmistaken,
And the stoutwilled monarch fought,
against the angel of death.

And blood poured like water,
bright red from a gaping wound,
But the Monarch fought on,
with the weapon of life,

Whitehr shall thy wonder,
Whost thou born?
for is it not the one above
that created you all.

your destiny, hath written
by your actions, by your deeds,
for when shall a man sin,
doth by his heart's folly,

Sin and truth, a man knowsn,
but he care lest for truth,
but he care lest for the judgement
but he care lest for the one above,

so man sins,
for hell he hath not seen,
but O' Learned wiseman,
look around you,

A world filled by lies,
A world full of sorrows,
of deceit, of greed,
of sins and of lifes.

Stained, man's blood,
of palace, of gold,
And murder, And adultery,
crimes of passion unknown

O'wiseman of this earth,
Is it not what hell is?
of hatred, of fury,
of duties trampled underfoot

cleanse up your thoughts,
O'wiseman of this world,
It is your Judgment time,
And fear not if thine not sinned.

But the Great Monarch fought on

Has the comforts of the world
clung onto you?
Has the drunkeness of power,
gotten within you?

Has the glory and the fame,
blinded you? Or
Did the pleasures and passions
awaken your selfish side

And the angel of death spoke on,

If not O' noble MOnarch,
give me your life,
for your time has come,
and Judgment awaits

Grey silence, hung around
the Great Monarch, grave,
the black angel , waiting,
And the people, waited.

And the lifeblood oozed out,
in fountains and splashes,
And the Great Monarch lay,
with but a desire to die

The ironwill was broken,
the heart fell slower,
And a smile on his face,
for he was complete.

The last breath, a painful gasp,
painful it was,
but pleasure flushed,
on the monarch's face.

And his breath ebbed away,
out of the lifeless body,
And said alast the Monarch,
"My Spirit shall live."

And the Great Monarch slipped,
into the icy realms of death,
And at the distant end,
found lights ahead.

The grey Angel of death,
carried his soul away,
And the people,
carried his body away.

The rainy clouds thundered,
a bolting flash.
And they paid their tribute,
to the great dead man

The birds wept,
a sad melancholy song,
And the animals roared,
for the departed Monarch.

The Kings and the wiseman sorrowed,
And did the Princess and the proteges,
the commonfolk prayed,
peace to the great leader.

The funeral, never had it happened so grand
for any dead living soul
And the people flocked, And the animals flocked,
from distances afar.

And the angel carried away,
the monarch's soul,
into the glorious magnificience,
of the humans above

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved

The Grey Eagle

The Grey Eagle




The croaking of the frogs entwined,
with the spatters of the rain,
dropping down from the stormy sky,
the thirsty earth below.

the earth damp and sticky,
small streams flowed,
a cold waft blew,
from the depths of the dark,

the morning mist hung,
flowing from the lake,
O'er the house, O'er the streets,
swallowing, the milky haze.

The smells entwined,
musky grey of the damp beneath,
of flowers unknwown,
and the night's dying scent around

The weary night hung,
wrapping the threads of dark,
As the spears of light flew,
desolating its art.

The drops of rain, fell down
from the early morning sky,
the frogs - cacophany unbalred,
irking the insects away

The light crawled stealthily,
into the emptiness of the night,
the distant melody of birds,
welcoming the early dawn.

the morning dew settled,
on the green blades of grass,
a trickle sliding down the green,
settled on the murky earth.

could smell the morning come,
or see the visual splendour,
while mother attended the young,
birds and bees, alike

the wondorous silence broken,
by the occasional chirping,
the grey eagle fluttered its wings
arose invincible into the morning

the great ruler of birds,
with sharp talons beneath
sheredding those that get caught
the last grasp opf life

Majestically arose in the sky,
until a speck on the horizon,
the sharp eyes hunting,
for a perching ground,

Slowly he descended,
from the fluffy clouds,
from the misty air,
onto a majestic oak.

Away some birds flew,
fear in their hearts,
And some left their young,
some the oak, forever.

But the greay grey,
lost in its own,
folding the majestic wings,
perched on the roof of the huge oak.

About lay the houses,
of common gentry, of thieves,
of sand and of mortar,
of perspiration and of gold,

Some were tall , some short,
some were new, others old.
And many a story hid,
with in the four walls.

THe dawn came in trifle,
like thoughts, like feelings,
the nostalgia turned real,
And, the dawn had come.

the mewling of an infant,
mullified by the milk laden breast,
of a sleeping mother,
the nectar of life.

Across the mansion,
lay the house,
its windows broken,
And the stones loose

But the tottering roof held,
by the bonds of love within,
And hung even in its last days,
a reminder of the glorious past,

The blinds were broken,
and bright light filtered,
the colours peeling away,
mixing like the grey below.

The floor was but rocks
the mud weathered away,
And shone the rocks too,
of newly borne scars

the columns barely held,
termited nesting in the wood,
And the moss green,
blossommed on the ravaged columns,

Outside a pleasant breeze blew,
the first rays emerging,
like a mighty army,
thawing its way in glory,

The morning fog blew,
vanished into the unknown,
the warmth of the morning rays,
warming up the earth beneath

the trees, the elaves, dry,
its gaiety moods of green,
And the mist vanished too,
marking an unannounced arrival.

And the crows cawing,
their hearts out,
like the tide of a blue sea,
And set out in a new day.

THe ants crawled away,
from ant-hills underneath,
the birds flew away,
from high nests above.

the floors opened slowly,
crawl of a turtle,
their luscious fragrances spread,
in the fresh smells of the dawn

the panting mother law,
for pain in her womb,
excruciating and unbearing,
contoured on her face

on a straw mat she lay,
of color faded brown,
her hair entangled silly,
wild emotions enflaming the eyes.

She cried aloud in pain,
the midwife consoling,
her body drowned in sweat,
her ownly comfort, a watery towel

thin, frail, the husband paced about,
could hear her painful gasps,
And the midwife's comforting words,
while above the sun arose

The wait, the suspense,
for sex of the infant,
around hung a saying in those times
the men rule the world

troubled, he prayed in silence,
for the one to come,
and the mother that bore him
a man of the world.

as the flames of pain
engulfed her body
while joys of motehrhood,
awaited her soul

the hour glass dipped slowly,
as the sands trickled through
time had but halted
a second, an eternity

the mothers heart aflame,
of vivid emotions, unfamiliar,
the joys of motherhood, unknown,
for its was her first born

And the fruits of pain,
new generation,
the infant shared
but also her soul

the pride of the clan,
a great man destined,
of mischiefs, trickling bright,
dreamt the mother's heart

her arms flayed wildly,
a convulsion of pain, o'ertook,
and fear in her eyes,
the midwife, panicked,

the thin man ran in,
sat beside the straw mat,
the moble lady pacified,
by sight of her beloved.

As the infant came,
from the depths of the womb,
the father's face bore pride,
for a boy it was.

the day grew warmer,
the midwife concerned,
for the motehr ailing
still lay in terrible pain

carried away the infant,
in her broad brown arms,
the midwife's face shone,
for the baby fine and well

the mother saw,
her newborn in the mi dwife's hands,
her heart cried out in pleasure
while her body tormented

the perfect skin, glowing
the tiny eyes, asleep,
And a few golden hair hung
on the tiny head

the features, spoke,
of beauty rare,
And the midwife bathed him,
in a lukewarm earthen bowl.

the mothers' face beamed
in pride, in anticipation,
And the husband heard her
a satisfied smile,

Anotehr spasm shook her,
she bled unhalted
but love of her infant, o'erpowering
as she struggled in pain,

Had the midwife spoke,
little may the mother live,
or may the infant live,
but thye mother cared lest.

for mother's love ,
strong and pure,
she lay on the straw mat now red,
dripping with her own blood.

She slithered into a slumber,
her breath slowed down,
her heart tired,
her body empty

the midwife hurried,
bought the infant back,
as the husband lay beside
his calls unanswered

but the infant cried not
as his mother slipped
away from earthly bonds
but the infant cried not

In a slumber deep, bestowed
by fate itself,
while his patriarch
lay dying beside

And the last journey,
troubled not the mother,
for the infant asleep
and he cried not.

might have awoken
the mother hastily
had the infant cried,
but he cried not

And she went away
leaving him, very alone,
in the great wide world,
full of hope and despair

The great wings flapped again,
and the mighty birds arose,
high up into the sky,
into the bright sunlight

A bright day began
And time moved on
for it did not heed,
for a mother's sake.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

Slumber

Slumber


Oft when slumber a pleasant recluse
And this vacantness be mine,
Nor shall the comfort of hope prevail
That one wish that be you undone.

These words the only comfort
Eyes closed shut and all their light
The lost perfume in the maze of smells,
How real can this dream get

Oh I long for those tender looks
Soulful embrace, joyful those moments
The lifeless soul that left behind
But even death does not overcome

Blow ye away, the year bygone
Usher in new hopes yet to come
For lost yet all not lost
And to have loved the greatest victory of all

This moment of pain, unbearable agony
Her lost voice ringing upon the ears
And ask ye myself bout love
For was all but pain but a moment bygone

But aren`t they thorns in roses to,
And was it not cold and dark before the sunrise too,
Carry ye this year, all this pain laden grief,
Bring me o` new year, the love of my loved one.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

Hope

Hope


(1)

Something there is that I cannot say;
Neither could words fully do;
But felt in the deep corners of the heart;
A strange feeling that dare not I define,
Pleasant joy and happy recollections,
Above the pangs of separation.

(2)

But something there is that needs to be told,
Atleast it wants to be said,
For those o`powering passions of love,
That overflows by that very name,
And faint recollections of the moonlit face;
But is it love or is it lust?

(3)

Ahh! the pleasant joy of her company,
Anything for that jocund company,
When the hours trickle by,
Swift like the receding tide,
And must the rock and sea part,
Until the next tide.

(4)

Those moments of love few,
Does my heart treasure,
For renews my longing and love anew,
And waits for the tide to come,
The lonely rock, the wait has begun.
And grains of sand trickle by.

(5)

But these harrowing chains of mortal life,
And repugnant chains of social kind,
That keep us apart, that keep us apart!
Wonder I, the rock and the sea,
They shall never really meet;
For they be worlds apart.

(6)

Are we but the rock and the sea;
And shall only the tide bring joy?
Are we worlds apart;
And my tortured half-mind relents;
But the new year still far away;
And should it bring joy and peace.

(7)

And so I rest my case,
And all my foolish fears,
And leave the world long behind,
Where we are not one, and dwell I upon
In my world of dreams and love,
Where we are one for now, my love.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

The Razor

The Razor



A razor that cuts and bleeds,
Yet all this pain so sweet
Brings us this new year anew
All the sorrows and pains

This is get yet do not want
She who I want but do not get
Knowing what these lonely roads contain
The moral less heart that pleads on

These miles, these walls,
Yet this blind man trods on
For all pain and grief really common
Shall the blind see at the end of the road

The razor still cuts, still hurts
But the zombie still walks,
Across these blind paths, as
Without love life wouldn’t be true

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

Tide of Time

Tide of Time

Shall not break the tide of time
Nor shall wisdom of science,
The hope and the fear in the mind
Bestowed unto religion and faith

For shall many years hence
Whence science shall reign in
Upon and unto realm of faith
Shall still be hope and fear

Of consequences and circumstances
And shalt still look upon the skies
The new primitive man
In hope and in fear
That maketh him a man.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

The Red

The Red


She walks down the red,
Upon the carpeted floor
Her morally unsteady steps
Propelled by ways of humanity.
And ,behind a closed door,
When all lay asleep,
But the two men – waiting,
And the black eyed boy.

The tinkering sound of her feet,
The silent bustle of her sari,
The heavy rasp of her chest
And laughter of men.

She looks back, uncertain ,
Dark eyes, blackened – blank;
At the empty red path,
And the locked door before.
Dark eyes , blackened – blank;
And roars of drunken laughter

The pain of recollection
By the hypothetical “i”
And her doubts – certainty;
And her fears – overcome;
And her shame – hidden ;
And the knock on the door.
The heavy rasp of her chest
The teals of laughter
And the door opened,

And she disappeared behind the brown,
And she disappeared behind the brown.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

Mute Pawns

Mute Pawns


Mute pawns are we, they play the games
Our silence that maketh us weak,
Our greatest strength that make sad
For life, for circumstances
And yet we walk these blind paths,
Muted by our own suffering

Shall the kings and queens understand?
For but they have other pawns too.
Our life’s, their objectives
Our life’s , their fancies

Then what is ours that is not
Why a life that be a living death?
Where is the hope that sets us apart
Where is the faith that makes us walk,
The bright sun after the long night.
But some nights have no mornings!
But there is I and there is you,
All flesh and blood I and me,
But the kings have blades too!
And we think they have hearts too!

Yet these pawns go on,
For perhaps these pawns meet,
On a vague path unknown,
Before death overcomes, perhaps!

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

A Mother's Sorrow

A Mother's Sorrow

The calf, lost and alone,

distress in her voice,

Mewling, her voice drowned,

in the day itself.

Her huge black eyes, terrified

terrified of the world,

terrified of the loneliness,

searched the black horizon,

for a sight of her mother.

She lifted her nose to the air,

her mother's scent missing,

She ran, helter and skelter,

her feet moving unsteadily,

like a toddler's first steps.

Her little legs carried her,

until tired and sad,

she laid down in the green grass

and mooed slowly,

for her strength was gone,

so was her last hope,

and she lay there,

until a passerby,

led her to his shed.

The man whisked away the mother,

for he owned them,

the cow and her calf,

And he led the mother away,

left the calf grazing,

for the calf would soon,

turn into a young bull,

to work in the fields,

to plough the fields,

money-money would flow,

but he forgot

about his future, about his calf,

he remembered seeing the bulls,

toiling away in a nearby field.

But greenery was everywhere,

he searched and he searched,

and as dusk came,

he returned home, sorrowing,

he cried many a day,

for his hopes lay dashed,

and his future missing,

his dreams lost,

his calf lost

pacified he was,

his wife reassured,

our cow shall bear,

many a healthy calf,

we have but to wait.

Wonder I,

the calf, pacified by new home,

the man, pacified by his wife,

but the mother, who shall pacify her,

for it was her firstborn.

Who shall tell her,

that bygone is bygone,

who shall tell her eyes,

where her calf's image hangs,

who shall tell her nose,

where the smell still lingers,

who shall tell her soul,

about the ways of the world.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnets

Sonnets

These were written on the eve of my grandmother's death...so obviously I am dedicating this to her.

The last poem

( This is the only poem that i wrote on the following morning, inspired by a truck driver, i just went for a walk on the national highway, and seeing so many truck drivers i wrote this, i recollect it was very early morning, and i barely slept through the night)

1.

The one that was her husband,
They who were her children;
Some who were her kin;
Acquaintances and relations too,
They who were hers moments before,
The infinite between her and them.
Silence of death hangeth before the house,
Garlands of gloom ironiking the house,
It stood grey among the crowd,
The deep wails solemn,
The sun beat a distant low,
Hidden ,dark ,unradiant.
The steps of death have trodden here!
The steps of death have trodden here!

2.

The faint remembrances of the distant past,
Of love, of joy and of hateful pain,
Her voice resounds through these walls,
The unseen figure still trods about.
Her frail body that once moved about,
At a later morn when tis be complete!
The neighboring dog that bugged her,
But the piggy puppy that helped her,
A silent charm that surrounds her,
And her feeble voice oft drowned,
Her faith in god she held too,
And the garland of her relations.
She always walked a step at a time;
But a day once, a monumentous leap.

3.

Twance lived there, a human and a carpet
Somewhere within the distant past,
The gold brocaded flying carpet,
And the grey mustachioed man
Afar, away together all the time,
Lived had they their worlds,
They had seen it all too.
The bright and the dark of life.
They grew bored, they grew tired,
Rarely but they ever flew,
Fights `an joys ; squabbles `an pains.
Together they lived till until,
The carpet left the man all alone,
The carpet left the man all alone!

4.

Blank faces, glassy eyes;
The flickering candle , hope belies.
The unreal picture `an left behinds
The vain sculptor sculpting away
The one that is not here now
But it another misery of old age
The silent night `an the lonely morning
In these walls must he live to die
Numbered sunsets `an numbed pain
The memories too, left behind
What is but before, gone today
The strange morn `an lonely food
But the world moves on,
So does the interminable wait!

5.

From morn till nigh , must he work
The smell of oil, grease and dust
The paved road, the wooden walls
That be his life, it is his life.
Strive to have a hearty meal,
Must he, till be he old
Every morn be the same,
The frustrating morning, the tired night
All the hopes of his dreams,
Of love, of life, of pleasures simple,
Concreted upon like the tarmac road
So he works for a decent livin`
Still he dreams of better days,
Yet his mornings be the same.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

Poem

Poem

Actually I wrote this ode after hearing and seeing a dead kid on TV couple of days ago- it is rumored that the kid was killed during a police raid; it happened in Punjab, and the police raided while the mother was in childbirth, well that's supposed to be how things happened....but all i know is that the kid was dead....

Mute child here not now

Unborn, unwed, unlived, closed eyes

Mother’s swollen breast white milk drippin

to the

Ground;

O’ but you’d have lived unremarkable

in the garden of life

Today that you spend in this world,

In hot air atmosphere,

flapping flies beaten away by thine mother’s

bony hand

O’ Tomorrow when the east sunrise,

an high among fluffy clouds you rest

What

your lifeless body, languageless tounge speak to

allseeing, allknowing God, O’ Lord

offered to you heaven or life

would thine choose anew

to come back here

to the garden of life

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

A Tribute to Morrison

A Tribute to Morrison

To the east an occidental wind blew,
casting with it blankets of reed red weeds,
carried with it a song anew
Of a New world of black and blue.
Drink this,' said the mother to her child,
dressed up like Miss Piety, and singing,
that song of Life's brew, brown like coffee,
and Earth. The Child lay dead, O' dear beloved.

Iron-Chains, half venom less not anymore,
Orders of past and present- stick like eyesore,
slick like blackened blue. To This World.
Hail to the Moon! Moskva and Amrica,

Cold it was and became colder still,
Tonight however, I lament Beloved Thee!

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

A Tribute to Oprah

A Tribute to Oprah

Merrily did I sit, a cup of tea in hand,
With Oprah to show me a world afar,
O’ Oprah, Pole Star ! ( Guiding Light)
Dear Oprah, you are a Super Star.
Oprah’s operas are best by far…
She voices others tears, and pain:
This Oracle of us all.
Her voice reaches so far:
Yonder, beyond the mountains,
the hills, and the seven seas.
Listen, there she comes,
A million voices without a voice of her own;
Fool am I, sorrowful to see her depart,
For I know, tomorrow is not far.
And Again,
Merrily did I sit, a cup of tea in hand,
With Oprah to show me a world afar

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

The Pleaid

The Pleaid

Heard those words that she spoke?
Of losing the heavens for a bloke!
O’ thy lost Pleiad – that mission star
Glory of heavens not that far

Pity not thine but your sister stars
who hang in the sky in land afar.
What the life for eternity gain?
Love’s better still, with all disdain!

Mortal this love and pain
Yet! Fools follow lest in vain
What hath lost and what gained
This music to ears of love and pain.
But again! But again!! Remember,
Here foregotten lovers lain ( lie!)

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

The Lucifer Song

The Lucifer Song

" Passed a traveler under a tree ,
Perched above sat Lucifer’s three
Singing a monotonous melody :

The World is mine, The World is mine.
Have the apple, traveler, and world’s all glee.
Also bananas and grapes, all for free.
He’s blind, He is blind,
He is also deaf, the one you covet thee;
Dumb, for he never spoke--
Give yourself to me!

Oh ! is it blasphemy
Come to me, come to me.
Phew ! Fools galore thy Lucifer three:
We HERE are worse than thee. "

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

A Poem about Love

A Poem about Love

Pain's Love, Love's Pain
On a quiet bright Monday morn I wonder
What have I gained
these dark silhouettes of fading light

bring with it pain's delight
And every bright sunny morning bright
bring with it sorrow anew
Hear ! Hear !! this chinese cock crow.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

Wish I was a Computer

Wish I was a Computer

Wish I was a computer,
In today's modern world,
Programmed by my master,
to do what he wants me to do,

Wish I was a computer,
cos then there's be no pain,
nor grief , nor sorrow,
nothin to lose or gain.

Wish i was a computer,
cos when my time comes,
I'd be replaced,
without a chance to complain,

wish I was a computer cos then i could think
not pleasure or pain but thinkin what my master wants me to think...

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

Those Tambarine Drums

Those Tambarine Drums

The happy procession passed,
and bright colours people coloured

the sound of tambarine drums,
the afternoon`s rising fervour

The swaying rhythm of those drums,
Enigmatic sweet rhythms but to the ear

The wild swaying of those bodies,
Lost within fervour `f dance and colours.

And but those drums that seek nothing,
Except to the ear of many alike,

Joy to the ear alike of-
Many short and tall alike.

And breathe life alike, to the sorrowed ear,
The sick and the old alike.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.

Second Tribute to Morrison

Second Tribute to Morrison

Have I called you many times before
Again, again, tonight philosophy none
Wonder I, you need to know? something more?
But wretched muse twists me no more
neither an ambassador nor a god
I am what I am, a poor-rich lad

Whither call I thee? To tell you a tale?
Ah! but there are too many where I wretched failed!
In a distant land seven seas afar,
lives a black women called Morrison, pretty gal.
Question me not why I sing her praise,
For she’s not like coetzee’s disgrace
Amrica and the planet called earth—
still shudder, sway at Sethe’s birth

I too, question what was before!
And thank thee Morrison, for history
Long ago, a day before , herded
gagged—and toiled her ancestors
And years hence, and hence this
Black woman from Harlem land
wrote about the mess that was before

She cooks and fries:
Everything called life, and all the lies.
(Perhaps THIS may differ,
when some silver ornament my hair)
Question not her , for she sings of lifes’,

Hold not Elton a candle in the wind,
She’s not Lady Diana, she’s Morrison by far.
Toni, Toni, Toni; what should I say,
One day she picked a pen and went astray
Beloved took me a few pages, until I was dead
Of shock, and shame.
Pity, Lock, stock and barrel—it’s not a game.

She holds a torch to Klu Klux Klan’s arse
All the way from Michigan, till the very last.
Objects and Subjects, Gravestones
left, even after we’ve traveled this far
Only heard have I, of the Harlem lust
scared now for then, neither ashes nor dust
Leave nothing for critics to chide
Impervious like a rhinoceros hide
(Here I break off, to take a snide,
Mlton’s similie, Satan’s soliloquy
On critics, beware, something to learn
Satan says that : “ It is better to reign
in hell than to rule in heaven)
“Reign-In”, hell and, Satan’s free
not blame, nor fire, nor redemption, of all absolvency
Qus: have you heard my “ The Lucifer Song”
Pity not often do I sing my Song….

She set upright those tasks not done before
Never more wrong Byatt: ‘ She’s truly for us all.’
Ink that stays, and flows and remains
She of the land with three sages before:
There the wise white three, hummers of melodies
Hemingway, Steinbeck and Faulkner

O` Morrison, Thou art temperate, like the Oracle for sure;
Vain in disgust, I loathe myself: Perhaps,
Could have done this job better, later, still.
Critics not chide, nor verse, nor rhyme
Also, have I nothing to gain from Eliot s’il vous plait
Teachers teach while preachers preach
All beloved treasured for was Sethe’s teat.
Yet this remains a thought: of the three wise men
Who left without your thought
Takes courage to chide !

Foolish culture that Amrica abided

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.