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Monsoon, with the Devil’s Face

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When monsoon roars, it ain't for show, It's every wound the land won't outgrow. It carves the sky with iron breath, Not life, but trial, not peace — near death. They prayed for rain, a soft caress, But what arrived was wilderness. Not whispers now, but jagged cries, The devil wears the wet disguise. A sacred flame where silence burned, Now howls for all that's overturned. The land splits open, truths emerge, The river swells with ancient urge. You called it god — now see it glare, Its justice floods through poisoned air. A demon shaped from broken trust, Born of mud, and dreams turned dust. For concrete vows that cracked and lied, For every wetland colonized. For every tree you pulled in greed, The monsoon comes not just to feed. It drags the lies through choking clay, And drowns the debts you tried to pay. The soil, once soft, now spits in rage, A drowned revolt, a flooded stage. Its scream is not just water's cry — It’s memory that won’t comply. Its anc...

The Mango Shower Dance(By a schoolboy and a frog)

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  👦🏻 School boy Jayakuttan: Today the skies wore grey and gold, And thunder sang so loud and bold. I closed my books, forgot my test, And ran outside — no time to rest! The humid air, a drowsy sigh, Now tingled with the promise nigh. Oh, Mambazha Mazha! a whispered plea, For cool relief to set us free. The first few drops came soft and shy, Like tiny whispers from the sky. They kissed the earth, the leaves, the swings, And filled the breeze with mango wings. The thirsty soil, it drank them deep, As secrets from the clouds would seep. A gentle blessing, light and true, The world refreshed with emerald hue. 🐸 Frogy: Croak! said I, in puddle wide, My kingdom wakes, I leap with pride. The rain is back! My pond’s alive, With dragonflies that dive and dive. This Blossom Shower, pure and sweet, Wakes slumbering life beneath my feet. The coffee flowers, white and bright, Unfurl their petals in the light! 👦🏻 School boy Jayakuttan: I danced with frogs, with muddy feet, No cl...

When Shadows Fall on Law and Justice

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  When shadows fall on broken stone, The law stands cold, a hollow throne. It speaks in codes, in ink and steel, But seldom asks what people feel. Its gaze is fixed on what's defined, Leaving human struggle far behind. A gavel cracks, the silence breaks, Yet truth lies drowned in small mistakes. The letter rules, though hearts may bleed— It honors rule, not always need. In halls of power, grand and tall, The spirit of fairness sometimes falls. Justice walks a softer trail, Her eyes unbound, her feet grown pale. She weeps where law refuses light, She moves through wrong to reach the right. She listens close to whispered pain, Seeking sunshine through the falling rain. For justice isn't bound by might, Nor caged by dogma, dark or light. She seeks the balance, true and deep, The promises that conscience keep. A silent plea, a breaking sigh, Reflected in a tear-filled eye. In Shadows Fall, the lines are blurred, A cry for truth is rarely heard. What’s lawful may not be ...

At Midnight, In the Rain

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At midnight, the world breathes slow and deep, The sky unwraps its frozen sleep. Rain whispers secrets none can hear, While snow arrives like soft-spilled fear. I watch it fall from darkened skies— This gentle grief with no goodbyes. I am the widow, hands held tight, Still feeling where he slept each night. The rain recalls the vows once said, The snow, the silence of our bed. Each droplet sounds like his return— But leaves me cold, and still, and burned. I am the maid with sore, red skin, The pail, the rag, the daily din. But in this hush, my spirit climbs— I dream of silks and ballroom chimes. The snow could be a bridal veil, The rain a prince upon the trail. Though caged by class, I still believe In stories only night can weave. I am the mother, eyes grown wide, Rocking warmth with arms that hide. The snow might steal my child's breath, The rain might speak of coming death. But I will fight with every bone To carve from storm a safer home. I am the root, the shield, ...

Nights Do Not Lie

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When sable night ascends with starry crown, She speaketh truth where day doth cast a frown. No silken smile, nor honey’d tongue of gold, Can she abide within her quiet hold. The wounds we dress in garb of pride by light, Do bleed anew beneath her solemn sight. She hath no need of flattery or fame, For all in shadow she doth call by name. Thy wealth hard-won, thy visage fair and bright, Thy fleeting joys that vanish with the night, All art unmasked when moonlight pale doth gleam— No painted life withstands her silent beam. The whisper’d spite, the envy deep and hid, The toil of women, oft by world forbid, The trembling hand that seeks in drink relief, All rise in night to claim their ancient grief. Fair words that danced in sun’s deceiving fire Fall mute when Luna climbs her throne entire. The boasts of men, their vanities well-spun, Are naught beneath the ever-watchful sun. Lo, masks of glass, in screens and scrolls displayed, The debts concealed, the empty pride conveyed, ...

The Unseen Thread, The Unreachable Hand

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The world spins on, a vibrant, rushing blur, But in one quiet room, no footsteps stir. A mother sits, abandoned, by the ones she fed, Her vibrant hopes, like autumn leaves, now shed. Since his last breath, the burden fell alone, A silent world, where love was once her throne. Her children grew, divided all they found, Then scattered far, on unfamiliar ground. They left the soil where father's spirit lies, And more, the living mother in her sighs. She watches heartbroken, through a clouded pane, How they treat her like an ill omen, with disdain. Distancing whispers, in the quiet air, Leaving her to wither, past all care. Even a grandchild, visits out of rote, No love behind the visit, just a note. When her frail hand reaches, seeking warmth and grace, The small one recoils, seeing a stranger's face. That hand, once firm, that guided, held, and fed, Now finds no solace, comfort, or a thread To bridge the chasm, deep and cold and wide, A hand outstretched, with nowhere...

When You Grow Wings

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When you grow wings and fly away, To cities lit in neon grey, Don't forget the path you came — The quiet roots that bore your name. Remember laughter, simple joys, And childhood's unassuming noise. Your parents' hands, now weather-worn, Once held you close the day you were born. They gave you dreams and watched you soar, While hiding aches, and sleeping on the floor. Their silent prayers, their hopeful gaze, Will guide you through life's complex maze. You'll chase success — and chase it far, Measure your worth by job and car. But pause, dear child, and ask what's true: Does gold still shine when love leaves you? Let purpose be your guiding star, Not just how bright your riches are. Be kind — to those with wrinkled skin, The stories they hold are worlds within. Don't scroll past pain, don't swipe past grief, A moment’s grace brings hearts relief. Lend an ear, a helping hand, Across this vast and diverse land. Respect the soil, the trees, the s...