Erothanatos

E-ISSN 2457-0265

 

Vol. 4 Issue 3

Anagha Narasimha

Can You Wait?

Thoughts sailing

in the air in search

of words

Sensations wandering

like a vagabond deprived

of home

 

Can you wait for me

for some more time?

 

Cos my lecturers won't

and there are stacks of

assignments left

Can you wait till I finish them?

Cos the college bell won't

and the holidays never last

 

Half prepared presentation

is still on the laptop screen

While the scribbled lines

of a poem on the last page

of notes remains unseen

 

Can you wait till

I finish all the pages

of that notes and reach

the last page?

Oh forgive me

for being lost in the

things that give me

no joy

 

The time shall

truly come when

I sit down and replace

thoughts with words

Build a home out

of poetry to the

wandering sensations

 

Can you wait till then?

Reminiscent

Amidst the noise of

heavy ships on the ports

Carrying out the mundane

business of import and exports

She reminded me of the

pleasant sound of waves

singing a lullaby to soothe

one's heart

 

When life took the

busy road and all

the bikes and cars

were stuck in traffic

She reminded me of those

narrow country roads where

I rode my bicycle like

a free bird

 

In the era of remixes

Where neither the

lyrics have any meaning

nor the tune has any structure

She reminded me of those

old melodies that were played

on the radio which are but now

long forgotten

The Puppeteer

My hands are tied

My heart is ripped

My soul has fled

Leaving me dead

Yet my hands move

Only to clap the ones

Who tied it

Yet my heart beats

Only to mourn the ones

Who ripped it

Yet my soul wanders

Only to find there's

No home for it

Losing it all I have

become a puppet

The thread that holds me

Is the very thread that broke me

The string that the puppeteer pull

Draws a smile on my face

The string he lets loose

Draws tears from my eyes

I walk and run

I jump and dance

Only to his tunes

Only in his shows

Once the show is done

Once the spotlight is gone

I'm back being dead again

In the darkness the puppeteer

Holds no strings

Yet there is a silver thread

Attached to him

without my knowledge

The invisible thread

The invincible thread

It neither has a beginning

nor an end

Clinging on to the puppeteer

Holding on to the puppeteer

 

 

The thread of Hope

Hope, that one day

The puppeteer shall

Grant me freedom

He shall let me go free

from his kingdom

Hope, that one day

The show shall end

And I shall fly back

To being unbound

The thought of freedom

Has chained me to the puppeteer

How can I expect liberation

From the same person

Who put me into

Imperial domination?

 

The Storyteller

 

Gigantic banyan tree

Branches spread out

Embracing the blue sky

On those branches

Birds found their nests

In the shade of those

evergreen leaves

A storyteller found

his stage

As soon as the sun

reaches the west horizon

Children come running

and fight to sit in

what forms the front row

under the banyan tree

"Sunshine and snowfall

The vast ocean

And the mighty hill

The world that’s forgotten"

These lines marked

the entrance of a skinny man

Wearing a brown turban

Waistcoat with buttons open

And a white dhoti

The village's sole entertainer

The Storyteller

"Where evil villains

Terrified every civilian

Where mighty heroes

Waged bitter wars"

One could forget the story

But not the characters

Some were brave

Some were shallow

Some were cunning

Some were naive

Yet all of them were

So full of emotions

"A fallen kingdom

A new hero born

As history paves the way

for the legend unknown"

There were deaths that only

gave birth to new beginnings

Characters died halfway

Yet the story continued

He bought the children

face to face with the death

They were afraid

They cried

When the story continued

Their hopes survived

They learned that death

wasn't the end after all

"A beast from hell

An angel in heaven

The greatest saga

of love ever written"

In a society where there

are so many barriers to love

And absolute freedom

for unreasonable hatred

His stories made them realize

Love knows no barriers

and no boundaries

"They faced the

harsh fate together

And went on to

Live happily ever after"

What seemed like an

endless tragedy

Always had a happy ending

Children's lips stretched

wide as the stories ended

By the time it did

The shadow of the banyan tree got

Immersed with the darkness

Children returned to their home

Where candles lit their hope

Whereas the teardrop in the

eyes of the storyteller

Told a different story

One that wasn't a happy ending

Love was chained and contained

And hatred was allowed to spread

The tears knew this wasn't a story

The Storyteller knew this was the reality

He had accepted the darkness

And there were no candles lit

Yet he told those stories

To give them the hope

He knew that even a little candle

can be enough to survive in the dark

 

 

Duet

 

A wolf is howling

at the full moon

As the moonlight

floods through the veins

Pumping up the

suppressed desires

Resonating the vibrant

darkness that engulfs

the evergreen forest

Moon is perhaps

Playing hide and seek

Seducing the wolf

Who is mild and meek

Tempting her

to sneak a peek

Though he shows up

once in a while

Every night she climbs

the mountain

Though once in a while

She gets to be in

the blanket of moonlight

Every night she plunges

into the heart of darkness

Though she's always alone

Once in awhile she

gets to have a company

A wolf is howling

at the full moon

Though it's out of love

It's not pleasant

It's not melodious

Cos she understood love

in the hardest way

She learned to love

through separation

A wolf is howling

at the full moon

There could be no duets

For what followed her howls

were his affectionate whispers

 

 

 

The Crown

 

The river failed

to wash the blood

spilled by the death of

thousands out of hatred

Her tears joined the river water

Her body was torn apart

Yet...

The Crown remained

Poets have written plenty

of pages glorifying her beauty

Her motherly affection

And her unforgettable reign

But her plight is best described

by the bloodstains on her gown

Yet...

She has to bear the burden of The Crown

Her subjects who are

no lesser than her dear children

Fought and died

Not the foreign enemies

But their own kith and kin

Once a charming face

is now dull and pale

Yet...

The Crown continues to shine

When people value

objects more than humans

When people choose

The Crown over the Queen

What else can she do?

Apart from sitting on

throne like an idol

wearing The Crown

Even if it is made of Thorn

 

           

 

 

Time Changes

 

The car I bought

and the one which

I loved the most

The one that suited

my comforts

Now has started to

make me feel suffocated

 

My heart yearns for

the long journey by train

Amidst the lush green

trees and tender rain

Nostalgia seeps in

as I crave

To leave the smooth

roads and feel the

vibrations of the track

To spend the night

while the train sways

like a cradle

 

Maybe it is not

about cars and trains

Maybe it is the

tendency of humans

To go back to where

it all started

We strive to stay

separated from society

But in the end

We long for the

company of the same society

 

Though we have our

own playlist in our

own music system

We still fancy turning

on the radio and search

for our favorite station

sometimes...

About the Poet

Anagha Narasimha has completed his graduation in the stream of science from Christ (Deemed to be University), Bengaluru. Currently, he is pursuing a degree in law from K.L.E. Society’s Law College, Bengaluru. Fascinated by the poems he read in school, he started writing poems in Kannada during his high school days. Later on, he developed an interest in theatre and actively participated in proscenium theater events during college. Gradually he started writing in English also.

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