Finding Her

I rummage for her, 
among the scrambled letters,.
Life amidst the dry leaves, 
only a crackling whisper.
Lost in the abyss of words, 
she stood ruined, among the ruins. 
Stripped of hope and desire, 
veiled in silence, consuming silence. 
A tiara for her ricocheting thoughts. 
I rummage for her, 
The child in me. 

http://verbalart.in/sircl/ecopies/1561032146.pdf

Dadz

There is, there is a man in Dubai,

whom I trust with doubts none.

There is, this man, now beyond boundaries,

to whom, I spat words, concealed never.

This man, with such differences, such counterfeits;

Yet, in him I see, the father of my home caring,

Could I ever deny the warmth of a family,

when he calls me, “momo”!

At times, I remember looking to him,

like a lost ship in its voyage half.

I look to you, Dadzo for assurance, the Northern Star of my sky,

Grateful am I, to be called your daughter,

And may we stay forever, as

a family celebrating the imperfect perfectionism.

http://indianperiodical.com/2019/06/dadz/

GULMOHARS OF THE INDIAN SUMMER

https://madrascourier.com/art-and-poetry/gulmohars-of-the-indian-summer/

THE EVERGREEN TAMARIND TREE

There in the cisterns of my memory,

coursed a blessed childhood,
where summer forgot its purpose and
winter stayed a little longer,
around a tamarind tree so exotic.
When along the roads, few tamarinds stood fence
with foliage balding and greying in the dusty sun,
there was SHE, this exotic tamarind tree, named Kodampuli
from my early memories,
with her mushroom bulge of greenery,
like a dome of pistachio ice-cream scoop in perfect round,
on top of that thick, single brown trunk
that could never fit my hug ever.
From her shoulders, my traditional swing of
the yearly ritualistic Onam hung,
flying me across her lush green edges, to get a peek
of the blue skies, residing in small patches, amongst the green fields of trees.
And on every evening before the exams,
my feet unfailingly carried me to her green laps of musing,
for those evergreen blessings fertilising my brain’s soil.
My heart’s grief ebbing, under her green apron snuggle,
I remember well,
her caresses and the songs with the wind she sang,
the friends strange and amiable she introduced for my loneliness,
I remember well today,
today as I stand before her –
her mutilated and butchered body in the backyard of my ancestral home;
still standing erect, as the faithful post for our then favourite game of hide and seek.
She stands there, with her scraped scalp held high, still, still evergreen.

http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/the-evergreen-tamarind-tree/

The Magic

Do you remember, the day we journeyed together?

Will an account of details, de-clutter your rotten memory now, I wonder!

But let me tell you, that day when your hands found mine,

an intertwined crochet stitch of perfection I interpreted.

Flooding the veins with strength and hope, magic present in every touch.

And in the depth of your eyes, I thought, I found my nepenthe,

The courage to hold on without fading and remaining lost.



In your arms, within your embrace, I found my safest haven.

Where I was whole and complete, where I was, “Me”.

When I laid my head on the curve of your shoulder,

My restless spirit took a recess in quietness, I must admit!

No more war, my mind at ease conjured itself to tranquillity.

The hurricane inside surrendering to your presence,

Unable to perceive the mystery.

Ah! When I kissed you, I knew time could be locked for eternity,



Moments those feel the same when gray spray your hair.

Those feeble caresses rekindled the child in me

Gifting my eyes unicorns and satyrs,

And under your breath, I was melting down.

Each breath, an unwritten lullaby, like the beat of your heart.

The sparks involved dissolved every doubt, uncertainty that remained.

And in your warmth, I was losing my numbness forever.

Alas! How recklessly did I fell over and over again

like the steady rains with no halt in between, through the chaos.

Reassuring that you were my magic all along;

And dear, how well you taught me that magic was the greatest illusion of all times, with few actors in the hiding!!!

https://www.decentenews.com/P/The-Magic

Artemis

Time adorned thorns around her naked flesh;


The Armor bestowed by Venus, on return of the hunt.


The essence of trust misused, oozed the blood out, of her streams gushing;


the venom he kissed into her, treachery of the snake, hissing at Eve.


Soot of that wild fire, that once ruled the forests, settled over her eyes,


Vision through the ire, much clear,


Words brave, her new knight



Experience crowned her Queen


Once recessed hurricane whirled wild,


Making way, an alert signed


The stabs she won, she pierced tattoos for tomorrow.


Ready is she, the Artemis in her, for the ride, always.

http://www.the-criterion.com/V10/n2/Twinkle.pdf

AN UNSENT LETTER

Near and dearest love,
who drove far away,
Your wealthy health, ensures strength in will.
A year gone with the fall of The Green lass, since,
words spoken meant stories different, entire.
With the setting of The Sun today, an era passed too,
Yet, space between us, remembers boundaries well built.

Though, absence of you, rockets the ranging ambiance,
My pulse has a faint trace of your smile; still.
Long nights do rattle the coiled strings of memory,
to day-light concealed, a muffled cry caught-
midway, cloaks my throat, sourcing hollow guts.

The world reminds a little much of you and,
my weakened heart weeps an ode;
forgetting not, the good times together.

Ah! Pen a letter, my hope lies there.
Like the dark clouds full with rain, I am
mindful thoughts on what might have been us.

Papa likes Yanni too, recently;
He would have loved you, definitely,
Share the same cup of music, maybe.
Oh! My mother liked you already;
Recite the hymns together would you both have.

Scripted on solace, a family would have been, ours.
That choice right, bended, looted the-
portrait of a home woven, have I never forgotten.
Forever will I remember the well hedged amber eyes, that shone bright, I know.

And may you always stay blessed rightfully.
As this love from the other side, can never demise;
Letters that reach you not, are written perpetually;

With love,
J.George

https://delhipoetryslam.com/pages/authors-love-as-we-know-it

A Letter to Younger Self

https://www.induswomanwriting.com/a-letter-to-younger-self.html

                       Dear Twinkle,

Overwhelmed with emotions myriad,

My pen strides forward,

Scripting you, this letter,

that finds you in good health.

Oh! How grateful I am dear.

For these voluminous bundles of memories rare,

stacked for me, from years before your pages bore such lyrics and poetry.

My heart leaps in proud thumps of your growing.

Though, I wonder, feeling wise in the name of experience;

How would you perceive me, now, nearing 26,

Feeling old and a carrying stubborn body that cooperates never.

Would you forgive me, for the journey I complicated in the name of love.

Would you too, be proud of my progress, though a very little?

Though years have gone by and you tried each day,

I here at a distant future, sometimes, feel the burn of those pages fed to fire.

Don’t you worry; a lesson learnt is sometimes forever,

Your poems and stories are safe traveling miles, 13 years from the day

You watched the dance of the fire, on your favorite pages.

And Sweet! I realize how you hate the mirrors now, I wish you never hate her,

                                  the girl you see on your reflection, for hate is a stronger poison,

That kills slow.

Years away from you, I can tell you,

Skin, colored or not, never traps or curses any; 

it embraces you tight in love, always wrapping you,reminding to be you.

Remember, it’s the perception, the thoughts that cage people darling.

Monsters are thoughts taking form, so are the angels too Ma chérie.

Open those doors shut dear, there are wonders to be seen and learnt outside!

Who cares the tumbling sides of the rain from skies?

This I can promise you, in time we all learn,

Letting go and giving love, least expecting in return.

So, for now, just live the moments as they come.

And be a little gentle, as I narrate you this,

Till date, my dreams stage on the Montfort verandas and its premises.

The poems you will be penning from years now, is colored green by your early sight

Secrets deep, covered in that mist always made you sick, yet your connection I feel now.

Scent of the fresh rains, that endlessly found its way to your room floor,

The thunders that blew your reading candles,

The crisp rattle of summer leaves on ground, still retaining the dampness of those many drizzles.

The cold winds turning pages of your favorite, “Little Women” giggling though the bamboo reeds over the grasslands behind.

All I remember well, like you see them now.

Stay if you could, I would advice.

But, time will take you away,

from friends, your niche, your home to a city you hated much back then.

Dear, little did you know, then, that the city would bring a changed dimension in you.

Re- encountering friends, home, your niche too would change and structure in strength.

The journey would kindle in you a voluptuous eruption of joy, I swear you will see.

For now, take a little step towards happiness around you,

Let it find you sooner than me, I pray.

                                                            With love,

                                                                                     JGeorge

A Letter to Younger Self

https://www.induswomanwriting.com/a-letter-to-younger-self.html

December Mornings

https://www.indianruminations.com/contents/poems/december-mornings-j-george-chennai/

Early with the cock-a-doodle-doo, the broom goes,

Swish, swish, swish.

Echoes rising in chorus, the integrity of a closed neighborhood, 

The wind trickled few jack fruit leaves,

Smiles on ground, they lay along with the tears of transpiration.

Frolic on the night’s lap; mango leaves join as well,

Wording possession of the air.

Always it is lush green summer mornings

Canopied with the December fog, thick mist, clogged, here.

Aroma of the Mountain Snow White roses on early drops of dew,

Like the sweet smell of love, from moon’s eros, along

Petrichor wafting, with the broom’s swift clearing;

Awakens the soul’s sleep.

For the churchgoers an offering early,

I sweep the summer to barren winter

Penancing for the crude sins of the Holy Wind.

Hostage for You

https://poetsindia.com/author/george_j/page/2/

You gleamed on the black bleak box of mine,

like a firefly caught in a glass bell jar;

dispelling darkness and bringing joy to the one holding.

Behind a hazy sheet, you remained the same,

like the day we journeyed to be seven hours apart.

A mirage, unreachable upon reaching, yet;

A soothe for the faith waning and wavering.

If not for the myriad emotions in the technological space;

caged and boxed would you have appeared.

The gold fish in its round glass pond.

Sweet pills bottled, for a longing deranged mind.

Sparkle in my eyes, the firefly caught up in a square edged bottle.

Like a zephyr passing zeal to the inert moor.

A teardrop caught in a crystal ball, your smiling eyes.

My firefly shun moonbeams on the bleak box,

though a thin invisible wall of time detained you and me, from us.

Of pulse trapped in a clock, the sound of your laughter,

throbbed the eerie silence that engulfed me, until then.

The petrichor wafting in the wilds, rescue for a chaotic heart,

a tiny message in a bottle, carrying love and miracles,

across the Oceans of time and space.

Your visage on the petite canvas,

set me wondering, who the real hostage was?

Tenants

https://poetsindia.com/author/george_j/

The bats don’t fly there anymore, 

New home, 

new curtains 

they found, like you. 

There is this distance 

of a person between us, 

An eternity flaked staying lodged. 

Confining an entire universe in a smile; 

In my dreams you stay, still, the same. 

Hiding a casket of lies piled, 

promises broken, Beneath 

those well hedged amber- 

colored honey eyes. 

Like ants in water tanks, building homes to be washed away, 

Few marginal tenants we all are in somebody’s life.

Dandelion Musings

http://indianperiodical.com/2019/01/dandelions/

No trail left, the whisperings of Dandelion seeds,

entangled in the murky bush of sorrow.

Liberty on the gentle wings recedes,

enveloping into the dark chasms of shadow.

Crumbled in the grief of knightly days,

They retrieve, an imperceptible glow.




Oh! Come back dear dandelions,

I know there is no spring for the nymphs,

In my stygian labyrinth, never been the Zions.

Ah! Don’t become the melancholy, my heart whims,

Spread out thy darling wings, Dandelions!

Exquisite gift from the Nymphs.




Dandelion! My immortal ally! Dwell in my broken home.

Breathe thy life to the rhyme I pen.

Shew thy pact, spellbinding gloam.

Let’s construct the sketch from scratch, again.

Fly over the boundless colored dome.

Live and inspire a few others, Amen.