Fourlinegraphia

  The mountain stands, a silent girl, Her heart carved deep in stone and pearl. She bears the weight of sky and time, Her quiet form, both grave and prime. They say the sky cries when it rains— Its grief like glass upon the panes. But what of cliffs and rugged plains? Who hears the mountain's hidden pains? Look where the waterfalls appear— They are the mountain shedding tear. From craggy brow and stony face, Her sorrow spills with strength and grace. A wild heart’s cry, a soul’s release, That finds no solace, finds no peace. She does not wail, she does not plead, But lets her rivers rise and bleed. The mountain stands so tall, so still, Yet holds a storm it cannot kill. The rivers born from silent pain Flow laughing down the wooded plain, But underneath that joyous stream Are haunted roots and broken dream. She remembers careless hands, That scarred her face and razed her lands. The falling spray, a mournful mist, From wounds inflicted, newly kissed. When sunlight strikes her falli...

  I am the bucket, simple, strong, and true, From ancient times, my purpose ever new. In bark and hide, my earliest form I knew, I fetched the water, cool and fresh, for you. I carried grain, from fields of golden sway, And nurtured seeds, through every dawning day. Through ages vast, I felt my form transform, From clay's embrace, weathering every storm. A wooden pail, with metal bands so bright, Or earthenware, in shades of dusky light. I hauled the soil, for farmers' patient art, And mixed the spoil, playing a crucial part. In grandest halls, I quenched the hearth's desire, And doused the flames of many a sudden fire. From muddy banks, I scooped the humble clay, Shaping new vessels for a brighter day. Then iron came, a metal bold and grand, My story whispered, across the changing land. A galvanized pail, with silver's stark appeal, Or tin's dull gleam, the weight of use I'd feel. I crossed the seas, on ships of timbered might, Bearing bounty, through the day a...

  Under the soft glow of moonlight, we slipped through the quiet gate. The night, a velvet hush, draped over naked shoulders, warm and late, embracing our shared fate. Stars danced across the water’s skin, twinkling secrets in the dark, a silent, knowing plea. The sky, a tapestry of silver threads, finely spun, matched the fire your touch ignited in me. A whisper of air, cool and light, brushed our skin, carrying chlorine, lust, and endless night. Alone at the pool, the world asleep, lost in dreams, our bodies bathed in the moon's tender, silver light. You dipped your toes, a playful gesture, and turned to smile, your eyes a dare, a silent question I couldn't resist. Then with a joyful splash, you pulled me into the cool embrace, and met me with a soft, teasing kiss. The water clung like liquid silk, a second skin, our limbs entangled, slow and gloriously free. Your hands explored in playful swirls, a lover's dance, beneath the moon’s approving, watchful gleam. Laughter tur...

From Kerala's heart, where green hills rise, I've seen the campus stir, beneath changing skies. Not just of books, its tale unfolds, But of battles fought, and stories bold. Here revolutions bloom, in vibrant hues, And politics weaves its intricate clues. The air is thick with strategies deep, As campus scenes their vigilance keep. But time's swift current, as it flows, I've watched the struggle, the seeds it sows. A breakdown of thought, a painful hue, As little mafia's grip breaks through. Their shadow falls where learning's light should be, Goons' playground mars what once was free. Each soul a battle, fought within, A private war, where scars begin. But justice and truth, they drift so far, Lost in the shadow of a deeper war. In holy and sinful moments we weigh, The shifting currents of each passing day. Yet a whisper rises, a steadfast plea, For peace and rights, for humanity. So let's fight for a future, vibrant and new, Where the campus thrives, a...

  My eyes, like embers of a dying fire, Born from the salt-laced rivers of my despair. A quarrel—sharp as shattered glass— Still etches wounds too deep to pass. Was it love, once sacred, now decayed? Or dreams I built, so carefully, betrayed? Perhaps the lie, a serpent in our grass, Or torture's grip I couldn’t outlast. Some wounds, I know, are bought with tongues, Poisoned whispers where malice clung. Then came the crimson tides I drew, From bottles cloaked in midnight hue. A fiery solace, dusk through dawn, A haze to numb what once shone strong. In anger’s grip, my thoughts ran wild, A storm inside, no longer mild. Each gulp I took, a silent plea— To drown the demons chasing me. But clarity slipped far from shore, And left me shadows, nothing more. And yet, at times, these eyes ignite, With raw desire, no will to fight. A primal gleam I can’t deny, That burns beneath a moonless sky. When kindness fades and masks are torn, When all that's human stands forlorn, My gaze—relentle...

I. The Birth of the Flame Red eyes, like embers of a dying fire, born from the salt-laced rivers of despair. Not born, but forged — in fire and flood, in silence and screams, a wound that remembers light. A quarrel sharp as shattered glass, etched on the soul, too deep to pass. Was it marriage — a sacred bond now frayed, or finances, dreams meticulously betrayed? Perhaps betrayal, a serpent in the grass, or torture, a shadow none can bypass. Some wounds, alas, by evil tongues are bought — poisoned whispers, carefully wrought. Words cut deeper than any blade, and leave the gaze forever stained. II. The Burning Within Then come the crimson tides, from bottles deeply drawn — a fiery solace, from dusk till dawn. In anger’s grip, a storm in the brain, or drunken frenzy to forget the pain. Each gulp, a silent, desperate plea to drown the demons — to simply be free. But clarity recedes like a ship lost at sea, and deeper shadows rise where light used to be. Red is the eye — not always from te...

  In halls once lit with learning's flame, Now silence groans beneath the shame. Where minds would bloom and futures rise, Now banners tear the open skies. The library's hush, once full of grace, Is drowned beneath the slogans' chase. Debates replaced with broken bones, And laughter traded in for stones. The desk where dreams would once begin, Now bears the scars of deeper sin. The chalk no longer writes the truth— It draws a line: "Us" versus "You." In every corner, colors clash, A flag, a fist, a sudden flash. No names are called, just sides are drawn, And morning dies before the dawn. The classroom door becomes a gate, To choose between love or hate. A slip of voice, a look, a word, Can make one disappear, unheard. Blood on steps, and quiet cries, Stare from eyes that hope denies. A photo on a hostel wall, A candle dimmed, a name too small. Leaders rise, then vanish fast, Martyrs made — their stories passed. But justice sleeps while speeches grow, And...

  From Lanka's heart , where jewels gleam and shine, I rise, a wandering messenger, a soul divine. Through sun-kissed spice and tea fields, I softly tread, Gathering their spirit, by day and by night, I'm led. Across sapphire seas, on a foam-laced dance, I carry the laughter, a whispered Serendib trance. Past Ram Setu's stones, by ancient hands once laid, Where gods once walked, a silent vow is made. To my queen, the Arabian Sea, I now bring Tales of emerald dawns and monsoons in the spring. I drift with her waves, a breeze reborn and free, To Kairali's dear land of coconut and paddy. Where mangoes ripen, and Malayalam is sung, A love in my heart, a story to be strung. I glimpse coral gardens, dhows on the breeze, The ancient ghost of Muziris on ancient seas. Past Periyar and Nila, the coastlines unfold, With welcoming gleams and histories of old. To the mighty Sahya, king of green hills, Where the forest breathes and the monsoon spills. I bring scented memories, blosso...

  “Once I walked alone in silence, now we rise in laughter — together.” I was alone then, a stranger to the night, Wandering through shadows, searching for a light. The streets felt empty, echoing my sighs, Silent stars above, indifferent in the skies. With every step, solitude tightened its grip, A lonesome sailor on a deserted ship. Whispers of the past clung like fading dreams, In a world of colors, I saw only seams. The laughter of the children drifted far away, Each joyful moment felt like yesterday. In gardens filled with blooms, I’d walk in despair, A heart heavy with burdens, too heavy to bear. Seasons turned like pages, the winter wore thin, Still the chill within me felt like an endless sin. I’d watch the sun rise, but never felt its warmth, A ship without a captain, lost in every storm. But oh, how the tides change when the heart learns to heal, The cracks in the armor begin to reveal The beauty in connection, the power of a smile, How a single moment can bridge every mi...

  We inherit more than silver or land, More than old rings or stitched linen by hand. It's in the silence, the looks, the weight— In love passed down, and fear innate. In letters kept, in half-told tales, In softened eyes and weathered nails, Lie all the dreams they dared to chase— And all the pain they tried to erase. Through generations, the thread is spun, Of battles fought and races run. We wear their joy, we bear their cost, And live among the found and lost. Some gifts arrive with ribboned grace, And others etched on heart and face. The pride, the grief, the ancient songs— All handed down, both rights and wrongs. We carry names, we bear the trace Of choices made we can't replace. And though some legacies bring pain, They shape the soul as much as gain. A father's silence, a mother’s prayer, A wound that lingers in the air. Not all that's given can be seen— Some heirlooms haunt, and some redeem. But through the fragments, we discern the gleam, And find new pathways...

  Yet, heritage holds shadows too, When blind tradition sees no new. A heavy chain, a rigid hold, On progress, stories left untold. From caste's old wounds to patriarchal might, Obscuring equity, dimming light. It can divide, with pride and might, Fueling conflict, dimming light. When history's truths are twisted, bent, For power's gain, on conquest intent. The colonial scars, though centuries old, Still shape the narratives, brave and bold. The ancient sites begin to fade, By modern chaos, plans unmade. Commercial greed, a hungry hand, Exploits culture, across the land. From sacred rivers, choked and slow, To craftsmen losing skills they know. We walk through ruins, unaware, Of voices lost, still hanging there. The whispers in forgotten stone, Of lives erased, of truths unknown. The unheard voices of the margins' plea, Lost in the clamour, for all to see. Flags are raised on sacred ground, While wisdom’s echoes lose their sound. Lineage used to draw a line— To judge, e...

I gave my love, a silent, burning flame, To lands that yearned, whispered a sacred name. A duty called, a path I had to tread, While my own heart, with silent tears, bled. I stood beside, as vows were softly made, A bitter truth, a love so deeply swayed. For others' joy, my spirit I would rend, A tragic play, that had no joyful end. The weight of what was lost, a constant plea, A love surrendered, for all the world to see. From realms unseen, I walked on mortal ground, Where fleeting joys and fragile hopes were found. A touch, a glance, ignited fire in my soul, A love forbidden, beyond my own control. The universe decreed, our paths must sharply part, A cosmic law, that shattered my very heart. I yearned to stay, to feel her human grace, But duty's call, pulled me to a distant space. A stolen moment, now a poignant, cherished trace, Leaving an ache, time can never quite erase. My essence mourns, for what could never be, A love that soared, then set my spirit free. Oh, how the r...

They see the dust that clings, the stain, The shadow of the sewer's pain. They taste the scorn, unsaid, unbent, On paths where my father's sweat was spent. But in this heart, a different beat, Beyond the stench of every street. I am not merely grime, nor dread, But thoughts that dance inside my head. I see the walls you build so high, That mark where "worthy" others lie, And where the "lesser" souls must dwell, A living, breathing, separate hell. But I see threads, where you see none, Of common worth, beneath the sun. Each letter in a borrowed book, A spark that makes the old order shook. My hands, they bear the work of ages, But dreams unfold on unread pages. My name, you whisper, low and deep, A brand you hoped that I would keep. This lineage you deem my cage, Will be the fuel for a brighter stage. For I am seed beneath the stone, A story waiting to be known. A breath that whispers, "We are more," Than what your rigid lines enforce before. And th...

  as told by Luma, the Albatross In the vast embrace of ocean's deep, I met Oraan, wise and slow, His heart as wide as waves that hold the world. He sang to the morning light— A song that trembled through the sea, And I, with wings of white, Flew low to listen, curious, moved. The ripples danced. I stayed. Our friendship bloomed like sunlight on calm water. We shared no words, yet silence spoke for us. I circled while he swam, A giant heart beneath my glide. Together we moved north, Chasing cold winds and strange, bright skies, Where auroras shimmered like dreams And the stars breathed in colors I had never known. Each day, his song became a rhythm in me— A balm against the cold, A promise echoing beneath my wings. He called me kin , though not in voice. And I called him friend , in flight. His every rise through frozen waves Was poetry. But then— The ocean darkened. The song faltered. The waters grew thick with things that shouldn’t float. The warmth ca...

The ancient whale, Oraan, in ocean deep, Met Luma, soaring on a wing of white. Their silent bond, a pact of vast, blue sky, A whispered start to one shared, daring journey, Their souls aligned beneath auroral light, Two lives entwined before the world could change. They swam and flew through seasons bound to change, In rhythm with the tides that pulled the whale, While Luma danced through ribbons made of light, A feathered arrow streaking through the sky. Together facing storms, they shaped a journey, The albatross and titan of the deep. They pressed toward North, through currents growing deep, Where ice began to fracture with the change. Still, wonder laced their long and faithful journey, Each echo answered by the singing whale, Each spiral flight a verse in endless sky, Their love reflected in the polar light. Past frost-choked cliffs they chased the vivid light, Oraan’s low songs resounding from the deep, And Luma’s wings inscribing notes in sky. But on the turning tide came hints ...

  In morning light, bright eyes awake, I watch her rise, like sunlight in daybreak. A world to lead, bold steps to take, Before the mirror, calm and clear, no mistake. She chooses strength to wear just right, A girl becomes power—like dawn breaking light. That blazer sharp, with purpose worn, Like armor of love, a dream reborn. Her polished shoes tap out her beat, A rhythm of courage, steady and sweet. The subtle watch, the gentle flair, Like whispers that show how deeply I care. Each braid or bow, a quiet crown, The leader within won’t be held down. Among the voices, her laughter sings, Like wind in spring, soft fluttering wings. Confident, calm, like a queen with grace, She walks not to impress—but to claim her space. And with each step, the world can see: "This path is mine, it belongs to me." When I see her dress this way, I see the fire that lights her day. A girl in a suit, with dreams so wide, A vision of grace, with fire inside. And finally, softly—a kiss I give, A si...

  In the heart of the wild, where the dusk kissed the land, I met a girl with a delicate hand. She danced like the wind, her laughter like flame— And I, the outsider, whispered her name. Her voice was a rhythm, a melody deep, It lulled the savannah and cradled my sleep. With eyes like the moonlight, she promised me skies, But hid the sharp truth behind beautiful lies. I followed her footsteps through thickets and dreams, Believing in love spun from sunbeams and streams. She spoke of a future, of stars and of grace, But her words were a mask, her love—just a face. She wore love like armor, like perfume at dusk, Each touch rehearsed, each gesture a husk. She sang like a siren in wilderness guise, But each note she gave was a cage in disguise. I gave her my trust, my awe, and my fire— But she danced through my heart like it was a pyre. She acted affection, she mimicked belief, While I bled for a bond she carved from deceit. Was I guest in her world or prey to her art? A spirit beguile...