Spring 2008, Volume 4

Poetry by Madhusoodhanan Namboothiri

Withering Scenery

When the day’s shadows dwarfed in size
Men perspired, beasts ran to cool their throats and heels
The wind paced restless here and there
Unable to bear the burning beams….

Under the scorching sun, the yeoman with his plough
Carves furrows in exquisite fashion
The trickling sweat from his stony frame
Shall perhaps help a few seeds to sprout
Or sometimes stir even Jupiter to take up arms
Against the evasive clouds, forcing them to weep
And help the Heavens inhale the exotic Earth
Ere the son of the soil moves in to have his bread
To him, the best of Arabian musk, when rated with this Earthen scent
Is like glow-worms mimicking the stars.
The smears on his body are the lucky warts
Bequeathed by antiquity in honour.
Though often piqued by the muslin clad cocks-tails
Lurking with voluptuous mows and petty jokes,
The throbs of soil, murmurs of passing wind
Hooting of birds, crackling laughs of crystal streams
Or the sliding crescendo, escape not unnoticed
From his rigorous perception- for they are
His Calendars par excellence, the gift
Nature bestowed upon him
As a reward for unfailing sincerity.

We Live in Such Times

We live in such Times, hurled often unawares
Into its vortex; whence few escape unscathed
Even the Spheres, it is said go rudderless…….
The outcome we know not---
Some say all this is new
Yet to a few it is old Rhenish in new jars
Graved-in through the onslaughts of Time
Who knows the truth?
Perhaps none.

BIO:  I have to my credit a postgraduate degree (MA) in English literature acquired from St. Berchmans's College under the University of Kerala, India. I've enjoyed doing some teaching, and in addition to having ample knowledge in Sanskrit and the Vedic field, I now scribble a few lines of poetry on occasion.