MONSOON

The heavy rainfalls of monsoon, the havocs,

That curtails playful moods of summer sunsets,

Holding back smiles behind the window panes,

The dark hovering around the mind like beetles.

Glaring the roadside views,bring some hope;

The vehicle vipers cleansing the inner vision;

The yellow beams that fall in my eyes

Then through the nerves to the mind..

The solo beams of hope in the dark around me

Brighting up monsoon souls of solitude

From shores to shelves of heart-

Blows the iceworn wind;all memorable nostalgias..

Yet again another monsoon here,

It rains cooling the hearth of heart,

The pains of past, pains of love..

Awakes the seeds from slumber,hopes of  future..

                                                -Ajith Vijayan

THE MOMENTO

THE MOMENTO

Oh! an awful night,the silent valley;

So powerful the vehement memories

Resurects plaintive antique memoirs,

Time had run though,half a century.

This fine flute,the momento of her

Pierced into my lamenting sight and

All memorabilia,as a wave flinged

In my soul withered romantic heart.

My heart was once the paradise of pleasures

That she adored;an oath to keep long

Now grew as the memorial of a fright night,

Fearing darkness and drooping senses.

This old valley resort we lived in together

Until the finale time:The open windows

Did bring charming flurries of snow:

As cold as her last breathe,I remember.

Stories of death and reunion I’ave heard

And my insane mind do believe these

To make the best music at my funeral

I pour this venom through her flute…..

    -Ajith Vijayan

ODE TO DEATH

O! wildish death,the uncalled guest of life,

Beneath whose influence the unshed lives-

Are taken deep inside the hellish graves.

The dead are decrowned from liveliness and

Are buried unseen arousing stale odour,

Leaving memories in hearts of the alive.

As the wind blows to cease the dying fire,

He comes to loot ones’ status and sink-

The fellowmen in reflections of sorrow.

From childhood stories have they heard long

Even men in divinity had bowed  to him

And he divested at times,everymen.

With a dazed feeling,they heard with fear

For once he w’d set the farewell event

With no choice,he w’d rest them uncouthly.

When juvenile strength of men withers

Breeds in agony and mind swithers

And in fear of him the soul turns numb.

O men! You fright evrything around you,

And no worse agony than the fear of death.

                                                                      --Ajith Vijayan

HYMNS OF OLD

The lonesome song is his trenody,

Of an oldster,who was taken no thought for

And as a weather driven leaf was

Rendend away from his perching nests.

And O! Miserably he adds one to them

Sustenance struggling destitutes,what curse

Had showered on this hoary age:

“It pours and never it rains”!

In the middle of nowhere he walks,

Seeking a vineyard for life;

With the thought of present,uttering imprecations

Tortured by despair and vast agonies….

What though life had been so pleasant,

Booned with all brightness,pride,honour

And upheld with reputation in sprouting ages!

Who now left alone amidst the madding monde.

The shriven skin,the teethless mouth

The sunken eyes in the sunken face

Finding hard to feel any stimulus:

Still he walks alone along the rushing way.

When he falls into his childhood once again

Children w’d desire to hear tales and even songs,

Potentials of only men of past;and still

So is it preserved;unshared and unknown

A brother,friend or father;what’s this state of life?

Though he be a destitute,claims this,does he?

-Ajith Vijayan