Poetry: Brindha Vinodh

Brindha Vinodh
Parallel connections and positivity

It is Autumn.

One by one, the leaves





 of different hues,

beetroot purple, olive green, mango yellow and pumpkin orange,

yet the trees stand firmly rooted,

 withstand the changing weather, the cold wind,

with  barren bodies,

let Winter slowly crawl into their arms

and allow snow to shimmer,

the same way poets disguise clotted blood as red roses,

till all the snow begin to melt in the embroidered warmth of the sun-

                                  life is no less dissimilar,

                                 put to test several times,

                                 we emerge again after inflictions

                                and wounds, we are warriors, we are survivors,

                               hope is the root that keeps us alive.



Body, shape and meanings

My body is currently out of shape

and I wish I could contort

and twist and make it elastic,

like a rubber band.


But then my daughter suddenly 

wants to draw, her brush beginning 

to stroke gently the steering boat that

is my lower lip, commencing from

where the cascading teeth stop to flow,

downstream, flowing smoothly 

through the waddling waves of my waist’s

stretch marks when suddenly 

a reddish-orange sun

 promisingly peeps in an East-West direction 

through  freshly fragrant 

marudhani/ henna leaves 

of my palm and fingers.


Nearing the coast, there are black pebbles

of moles and blue birds perch

in assembled veins across 

brown branches from outstretched arms.


It completes the picture.


All notions of shape and size disappear 

into vacuum when I am the universe 

to her. 




The stories of our lives


Every morning unfurls with the mango-yellow 

hue of a smooth sunrise,


tints of yogurt white good morning greetings from

unbrushed teeth and half-sleepy eyes

unfurl eyelids, like petals of flowers,


pink-sugar crescent moons pasted on

cheeks from loved ones’s lips

add value to the day’s beginning,


polychromatic shades of blue

merge with the mundane routine,


an  aromatic rice blended with

tinges of diced orange carrots, brown potatoes, green peas and purple onions

saturate the starving stomach,


an apricot-orange sunset 

tags an awaiting twilight,


on the way, someone in tattered clothes 

crosses the road at signal, the tone of

dried-red cranberry his parched stomach

from the aching heat of hunger,


she gives the poor man a few currency notes, 

that somewhat satisfies her bleeding 

pomegranate-red heart,


two tiny girls, draped in old skirts and blouses, 

without slippers on legs, sell story books

at the crossroads, she buys them, 

not just for bed-time stories for her children,

but to add some colors to their lives,

every ten books sold could fetch them

money to cook a day’s meal, their 

childhood dreams a black sky of moonless night,


she returns home, cooks a simple meal,

spiced up green chilies, a bit of salt, 

the white-sugar sweetness of her love, all mixed up, the moods and emotions of the day,


some one else in the family has had

a bad day, an unpleasant  auburn-brown

of a dried, crushed Autumn leaf,

with tinges of dull-gray grief,


she gets into an argument on

a moderate tint of bluish-magenta

translucent dawn,


then sorts it out before going to bed,

nightmares sometimes come in tones of

black, sometimes white dreams soft

as peaceful prayers-


this is the story of her, 

she is me, she is you, she is anyone 

you can relate to,

the stories of our lives,

and each day, different tones, tints, shades

get added, to saturate the day.


Bio: Brindha Vinodh is a poet, writer, blogger and a former copyeditor. She has contributed to several anthologies and been published on several international magazines, e-zines and journals. She has recently released her debut poetry book titled “Autumn in America & other poems” through Setu publications, Pittsburgh, Usa. Her recent achievements include commendable mentions in two categories, “Poet of the year” and “critic of the year” for 2021 in Destiny Poets’ International community of Poets (ICOP) Wakefield, UK.  Born and brought up in Chennai, India, she currently resides in the United States of America with her husband and two daughters. Incidentally, she also holds a masters’ degree in Econometrics from the University of Madras.

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