Poems by K. S. Subramanian

K S Subramaniam

K. S. Subramanian

1. APJ Abdul Kalam

Death is always an unexpected visitor
at the threshold; the last breath is too
priceless a gem to be gifted away.
Yet it is ever on lease.

The visitation came on him, at an hour
leaving all in numbed silence, the
moment reality dawned that
their gem was stolen by stealth.

A gem that sparkled with an inborn glow
and was cosmic in its radiance.
He was loved by all, for his spotless charm,
sombre gait and cherubic ambience.

In his smile or gestures was a skein of
simplicity that dwarfed his greatness;
He never blotted his trail even once.
No wonder the trail will lead us far…


2. Taj Mahal – made me reflect

Yamuna flowed quietly behind.
Mosques on either side face
the marbled edifice of timeless grace;
Fronted by minars the proud castle
glistens in the blazing Sun!
Awe-struck eyes idly peruse
the amazing detail of design;
Patterns carved out of sparkling stones
reveal the stunning glory of artifice;
To be told this mind-bending art
is a monument to a mindless monarch
affronts the beauty in human craft.
That spurred me on to remember
Thousands of hands that wore
in selfless zeal over this future wonder!

And the birthpangs of the architect
who bore his genius in a single act
embalming the divinity in Man.

Time withers men, not their vital elan!
My thoughts rang an echo in marbled walls;
Yamuna flowed quietly behind. 


3. Nature’s missive.

My balcony is a window to the eye.
 As I eased to recoup my tired bones
soft dusk wind blew across my face.
I was awakened by Nature’s tones.
Just a crumb of the unexplored scenario
that left a stunning, unrealized missive.
Shadows had rung the arrival of the dark.
Tired crows were searching for a perch
on branches to rest their wings
necking each other out in a hurry
lest nature leave them no niche to sleep,
their crowing subsiding in a jiffy. 
I was bemused by a sobering thought. 
Nature is mimicking the human lot.


4. Aging gracefully

Ease into the evening of life
iss a time- honoured idiom;
Grey hairs alone do not uncover
the valley of wisdom.
As your bones feel the tremors,
you inch away from the whirlpool
of emotions; Doesn’t the world
change faster than the batting
of an eyelid?

You are a cloud of the Past,
shrinking in memory as time
ticks by; Soon the cloud is gone!
The new generation, on a tenuous
toehold, speaks a language
that waltzes over mind;
A bridgewide gap or a mouse trap?

You have reached a stellar stage
when what happens is only a happening;
It may anger or please but is
only a passing of breath, no more.

Growing old is refining the glint of memory.


5. Time makes a call

Spring’s verdure slowly ebbed
before summer’s breath snuffed
It out; Time’s footfall tip-toed
a message – “Life’s curves are
hazier than the lines in your palm;
Strain not the brow on what’s in store,
brace up to weather the storm;
Storms leave fading scars on plains;
The Banyan is ruddy on its shore,
knows not where it will spread.
Its bleached branches beyond the seed;
Hearts stagger on jagged strains,
a hopeless hunt for a green moor.
Then encased in thorny silence”

Setu, November 2018