The Island Of Creativity

A private island detached from politics

religions, colours, races, and nationalities 

Where the artistic chaos exists with peace 

Based on unwritten rules for behaviour 

An Island of artists, writers, hippies, 

poets, sculptors, and other creators 

Connected to the rest of the world 

With the internet and social media 

Living in old buildings and new tents

Artistic mud huts and wooden cabins

Hostels, homestays, and cottages 

Amidst the nature with the new gadgets

Solar and wind resources powering life

A place where artists can collaborate

In real to create unique art installations 

Poets collaborating to create anthologies 

Recite poetry for the interested audience 

Painters giving life to the written words 

And decorating streets with canvases 

New age hippies practicing spirituality 

 modern hippy music sans drugs 

Silent rooms for authors to write books

They can sell books online worldwide 

Libraries keep books for lending and sales

Gardens for those who want to meditate 

The vivid floral arrangement art on display 

Walkways with tree canopy along with the 

gardens for minds seeking inspiration

Playgrounds to enjoy games for relaxation

Farms for sustainable fruits, vegetables, 

dairy production, Community kitchens 

serve the artists the chemical-free food 

Open-air theatres for dramas, comedy, 

music, movies, and other performing arts 

Podcasts for reaching out to the world 

Walls of graffiti art that change with time

Sculptors bring to life new age sculptures 

Masons and carpenters give life to new 

artistic buildings with limited materials

Each individual contributes with their 

talents and manual labour to maintain 

The way of life and creating new avenues 

Visitors can explore the island and follow

their interests, They can contribute to the 

sustainability of the island of creativity 

There are some pockets of liberal places

Around the world where artists co-exist  

I dream of a utopian self-sustainable 

island for creativity to thrive in groups

This poem is inspired by videos and write-ups about Danish Freetown Christiania, Auroville in India, and Quartzsite in the USA. Image courtesy stock. 

A Farmhouse Wish

 

I wish to lease 

A farmhouse somewhere in the hills of Idukki

Where the fog and mist welcome the mornings 

An old building left behind by the British owner

With wooden floors and ceilings and a cellar 

Cellar used to store produce from the farms 

A fireplace to enjoy some drinks at night 

Maybe some ghosts hanging around 

To give a company and tell tales from another era

A nice place to enjoy the emptiness of life 

Surrounded by mango, nutmeg, and teak trees 

Pepper creepers crawling on the smaller trees 

Farms of tea and cardamom keep the air fragrant

The Orange trees amidst the tea plants look odd

The bushes of cinnamon trees evoke strong feelings

Along with the cloves and vanilla beans

Maybe some apples and peaches too 

Small streams run down through the farms 

The freshly brewed coffee and tea from the area

May make the mornings exciting for walks 

Along the hills towards the local junction 

To get local news and a bit of banter with people

A place to enjoy the monsoon rains and the winter 

A life away from the cities and concrete jungles 

Farming and enjoying the harvest of produce 

Maybe setting up a microbrewery for wine 

With fresh air aplenty and less humidity 

And a lot of big hills on the horizon 

The rides through the hairpins will be exciting

Trekking in the jungles and boating in dams

There are plenty of things to do 

Maybe I am still in love with the hills 

As I grew up on a barren hill with tapioca fields 

This poem is inspired by this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-omMJ9zRoO8 A couple from London restoring their Portuguese Quinta. The images are taken from Shutterstock and Cardamom Farm Shutterstock 

Sunrise At Kanyakumari Beach

Kanyakumari, 

The southernmost tip of the Indian mainland  

It boasts of a small beach with some rocks

The curves in the map are real down there 

A rare beach to have both sunrise and sunset

We stayed overnight to see the first rays 

In the pitch darkness, we went to the beach 

Stood among the patient crowd to get the best view

On a distant horizon, the sun rose from the sea 

Splitting the darkness with bright light 

With a tinge of orange shade clouds 

It revealed the beauty of the beach unlike under lights 

The sun slowly moved towards the Vivekananda rocks

And then placed itself aside the Thiruvalluvar statue 

A rock-based pathway towards the sea emerged 

Parallel to the Vivekananda rocks 

We slowly walked through it to the end 

We sat on the rocks and saw the sun moving away

Then looked at the beach from meters inside the sea 

It was magical with the sea on both sides 

It was scary, but it was memorable 

As the images of the Tsunami 

That lashed there in 2004

Was still fresh in the mind 

As the dawn bloomed 

Boats started taking visitors 

To the Vivekananda rocks

We rather enjoyed the Vivekananda rocks 

From the rock pathway, as we walked back to the beach

The comments on Twitter, about the best beaches, as part of a question related to my poem The Last Sunset gave me the inspiration to write about the sunrise I saw at Kanyakumari Beach. This is the southernmost tip of India, if you check the map. Both the sunrise and sunset here are beautiful. The images are taken from Shutterstock and Wikimedia Commons.  

The Last Sunset

 

A bed set on a lonely beach

Shallow shore lets in slower tides

To fill water beneath the bed

It is awaiting its next guest

To pass over the message

Left behind by the last tenant

Wish you a happy journey!

He is set to come in the evening

For enjoying one last sunset

To drench his feet with waves

 Sitting on the bed facing the sea  

 As he could barely stand

He would rather walk on the sands 

But he is too weak even with support

He is not old, he is just ill 

 He has visited this beach many times

 With his sweetheart in his prime days

 He wishes to see those memories again

 As his sweetheart has left him for good

 She won’t know about the wish he shares

 With the waves for one last time, a secret

 He could lay down and enjoy conversations

 With the stars, that were liked by her dearly

 He will be bidding adieu to the moon

 He used to see her on the moon when lonely

A big thank you smile for the moon

For bestowing company in his empty nights

Before leaving this world, while sleeping

 From the heartbreak, miseries, and illnesses

 Through euthanasia, a merciful exit from the world

 At his favourite beach, where he weaved all his dreams! 

 

 

This poem is inspired by the picture given by #OnePicPoetry. This poem is dedicated to those who wish to leave this world without pain legally. I certainly wish that for myself. 

Silence Of A Library

I see the library as a garden of books

That emanates fragrances of old and new books 

Like the fragrance of flowers of vivid colours 

The board 'Silence Please' welcome you

To the world of words full of peace 

But the hush talks do make unwanted noise

Some people forget that they're supposed to be silent

 Racks of books are arranged like skyscrapers 

Computer catalogs made it easy to locate books

Yet checking out similar books in those racks 

Give the pleasure of finding something precious

The searching for books on ladders is dangerous

But it is an adventure inside a library

The eyes of the book searchers glee when they find

The dear book they have been looking for long 

Then you see countless people totally immersed 

In the books as if they're seeing visuals live

I find the library the best place to read a book

Without worrying about time or social media

The silent reading room is like a heaven for readers

Pin drop silence, and you can hear your own heartbeats 

Many a day I sat there and read books for my research 

With nothing to disturb, the words just walk into the mind

Building the narrative I want to write for my paper 

I and my friend once sneaked into a library floor

Restricted for students, to see what was there 

In that semi-dark room, with only light from the windows 

We came across precious old books and journals  

That gave insights into machines from the industrial revolution era 

Also books on philosophy, and history, science, among others 

Neatly bookified newspapers from a different era 

I've come across the silent romances along the bookshelves corridors

Lovers keeping books in their hands and eyes lost in eyes 

They shared their hearts, as if in a park, without worries 

I found the designs for my 3-D cad projects in a British Library

Toiling hours through the automobile books, journals, and magazines 

The memories of paying fines for late return of books remain in mind

The online libraries and online book platforms

 Made books accessible in the personal gadgets

But the sensation of holding a book and flipping pages 

To read is still magical, book lovers would agree 

I would love to taste the silence of a library again to read books 

The seed of this poem came to my mind while going through the tweets related to books. I find it hard to read books now due to my depression. But I am very nostalgic about spending a lot of hours in libraries as a student. I mostly read books that are not related to studies :D Image taken by Emil Widlund. Thank you :) 

A Bag Full of Cash

 

A lady walking back to her apartment 

After her late-night work shift came across 

A bag full of cash abandoned on a footpath

Under a streetlight in front of a legendary statue 

She was stunned and excited about the possibilities 

Nobody was around and she asked herself 

Should I Keep this?

I didn't steal this, it might be a god's gift 

My morals are slightly blinding as the cash is there for taking

I am just skint and broke, it won't make me a bad person

If I take this home and start a new life in a faraway town

Her joy was short-lived as a man saw her with the bag open

He asked if it was her money!

She was sure that the man has seen her checking the money

She nodded that she got it from there a while ago 

She offered him a share from that bag 

He was broke too and need cash to repay his debts 

He was tempted by the offer and was about to agree

Somehow, he asked, what if its a blood money?

Belonging to nasty gangs and they might chase them

To take back money and revenge! 

I fear about the source of the money! I don't want it. 

She said you're just doing the right thing

I should be as well, but I don't think I would be able to 

Before she could take the bag and walk away 

A man with a gun asked them to up their hands 

He claimed that it was his lifelong earning 

He was not going to share a penny with them

If they want their lives, 

They should walk away without looking back 

They were scared for their lives and they walked dejectedly

With broken dreams and ruined hopes of a better life 

Only to hear the gunshots 

and they saw that man on the floor dead 

They ran for their lives leaving behind their wishes 

Towards the safety of their homes 

They could hear the angry taunts from a gang

This is what happens to the backstabbers in our gang

No mercy, death is the only punishment for the betrayal

The deceased man had planned for a while to dump a bag

During one of their robbery return trips, his mate knew it

He had informed the gang leader after the man went missing   

This poem is inspired and based on a conversation with @sliced_carpet on Twitter. Her tweet was , bag of cash.. nobody around.. are you keeping it? Be honest. Image taken from istockphoto. Thank you :) 

A Hobbit For A Writer

A Lush green grass valley providing 

Spectacular views of the hill ranges 

With tea and coffee plantations afar 

A lake on the plain encircled by trees

A hobbit house built into the valley 

By digging a hole for a sleeping cabin 

With a bed carved out from the soil

Wooden planks gave the insulation 

On the other end, there's a fireplace 

With a chimney to exhaust the smoke 

Wood from the nearby areas was used

To build the hoists for the sloped ceiling 

Small branches were tied to the hoists 

Mud was used to make the walls on the

 sides and in the front, gaps were there 

For the windows and a door to the hobbit 

Wooden planks were nailed to the hoists

To base the roof, a tarpaulin sheet was 

laid over the planks and dried grass was 

Stacked over it, Soil was laid over the roof

Soil was laid on the sides to create a slope

Glass panes were fitted for the windows 

The main wooden hoist became the base

 for the cabinet to keep the books, wooden

 planks were used for flooring, A table and

 chair faced the window, Storage cabinets

were set on the wall at the bedside, The

fireplace doubled up as kitchen, Dutch

oven and kettles as utensils for cooking 

Fresh grass was laid on the sloped walls

and roof, To merge with the grassy terrain 

Solar lamps lit the hobbit during the night 

A small garden with flowers in the front

yard, Completes a dream hideout for a

writer to focus on his craft amidst the 

nature, With fresh scent of papers and ink

and a cup of coffee to delve into fantasy

Regardless of rains, summer, or winter 

Sans the distraction of the internet world

This poem is based on a poetic seed I had during my evening walk. Image taken from Wikipedia 

A Town Center From A Dream

 I saw an unnamed small town center 

In my dream, from where I didn't want to return

The roads were having freshly laid bitumen 

The old iron lamps had a fresh black coat 

The medians had lush nicely cut grass 

The footpaths were having nice stone tiles 

The buildings were all red with white outlining 

The small park had plenty of flowering plants

A few old wooden benches for the visitors

A brick trail for the walkers and runners

A lush green lawn for those picnickers 

And a space for a traditional game 

The town had only a wholesale market 

A huge arched building with a big hall

There were big stalls for various items 

Vegetables were auctioned off daily 

If the buyer damages the vegetables

The person has to take them home 

But he will be banned from auction for a period  

The town had only a second-hand book shop

The books were stacked up like towers 

The best books were kept in cabinets 

There was a bargaining system for the books

After reading, people can resell it to the shop 

The townhall was small and resembled a theatre

It doubled up as the church, due to renovation 

There was a small police outpost in the town center

The crime rates were low and people were police friendly

There was a small hospital in the town with essential facilities

People rather took prescriptions from private doctors 

To buy medicines from the local pharmacies 

There was a women's shopping center 

Ran by women for all the needs of women 

I explored the streets while the bus was getting ready

They were neat and tidy and people kept flowering plants 

No walls were separating the houses 

Many of them had fruit-bearing trees in the front

I saw fewer cars on the streets and at homes 

I had to run to fetch the bus to go to my home somewhere 

This poem is based on what I saw in a dream today morning. The image is taken from Shutter Stock. Thank you :)

Glowworms Reunion

From the hills, moist plains, and riverside 

Glowworm beetles embarked on a journey

Towards a garden for their annual reunion 

To share their stories and enjoy the nectar

They left behind females as they can't fly 

It's like the bike riders' gangs on their trips 

They glowed intermittently in a  pattern

On that new moon night, they're the stars 

On land buried under the pitch darkness 

They reached the paddy fields and stuck 

To rice plants resembling firesticks glow

They rested in a big tree creating an aura 

Of Christmas lights during the spring night

They flew over the river creating art forms 

Of light patterns on the water with delight 

They reached the garden and selected

Flowers to enjoy the nectar they cherished 

They remembered their friends who lost

Their lives under the beaming streetlights 

Their mates who left life after delivering 

Larvae as per a strange tradition of theirs

While they returned through dark paths 

Towards the safety of their homelands 

Waving goodbyes until the next reunion

This poem is inspired by the glow worms I see during my late evening walk along riverside. Image taken from Bored Panda .Thank You :) 

A Vibrant Shebeen

They went to a she been

To drink some cheap liquor 

In company of town's rogues

Singing the Irish pub songs

Until they lose their senses

They wore the Irish pride with

Shamrock badges on the sleeves

A lady set the stage for tap dancing

The aim set was to dance after each drink, 

 To win a gift for St Patrick's day

But the cache was that they cannot fall

They were warned to forfeit if they can't

Else they've to pay more for every drink

The visage of that lady attracted one   

among them, He wanted to lose to the

magic of forever of her, He drank and 

danced and drank and danced and drank   

and danced and  passed out! The lady   

laughed and clapped! She had a bet on    

him falling after three drinks!

A poem based on word prompts from #BraveWrite #Flexvss #WIPWordSearch. 
#WordSoupDaily #CrowCalls #ProseInBloom#atreyasverse . Image taken  from Unsplash.

An Adventure In The Forest

 

Let’s go for an adventure

In the lush forest of pine trees

With bare essentials to survive

Walking along the ancient trails

Left behind by the local tribals

Let’s find a safe place to set up

A hut for shade from the rain

And barrier against the animals

With tree branches and mud

Thatched roof with the grass

A fireplace to remain warm

A rocket stove for cooking

Let’s sleep with the warmth

Of each other and fireplace

Let’s wake up to a new dawn

Amidst the tall trees of history

Let’s walk through the fog

Towards the wild vineyard

And taste the mist from the

Wild grapes before the sunrise

Let’s find the lake to swim

When the water is still cold

Collect pristine water from stream

For brewing wild berries for tea

Let’s forage in the wild for safe

Fruits, mushrooms, and roots

Hunt some small animals too

And cook them while sun sets

We can enjoy the dinner with

Fermented wild berries and grapes

We can enjoy a memorable spring

Amidst the nature, away from city

We could drench in the rain and

Play like kids, with nobody to bother

We could explore the hills and valleys

We could make love in the bed of

wild flowers, enjoying the wild fragrance

We could find wild honey to sweeten our

Brews and sparkle on our foggy mornings

Let’s build a tree shelter for safety

To escape from wild animal attacks

Let’s enjoy the wild life for somedays

A lonely world to keep falling in love

 

 This is the 400th post on this blog. This poem is inspired by the prompt from #MadVerse. 

Padmatheertham Pond

 A pond in the city center 

Having spiritual association with  

Sree Padmanabha Swamy Temple 

The richest temple in India

By the means of hidden treasures 

Built during the 13th or 14th century

From a small natural spring-fed pond 

It was expanded into a bigger pond 

By the King Anizham Thirunal Marthanda Varma

Pond received water from the Killi river for some years

Now it relies on its old aquifers 

It is spruced by the renovation

of walls and bathing ghats

New lamps and a tiled road on the left

Facing the Padmanabha Swamy Temple 

Changed the look of the pond itself 

The smaller temples in the perimeter 

Draw people for devotion

Evening fills the pondside with 

devotees, locals, and the city dwellers 

I used to meet my friends 

At one end of the pond

Facing the waters and shared 

happiness and sorrows over the years

Enjoying the light breeze from the pond

I remember a man being drowned 

In the pond by a man on live television

I remember a giant inflated sculpture of

Lord Vishnu laying over the serpent 

On the pond during a festival 

The visual of the old clock 

Getting wooden goats to bang heads 

When the time reaches the hour mark

It is still exciting during special occasions

We used to feed the big fishes in the pond 

During our evening hangouts 

It remains a dream to enter the bathing ghat

As it is restricted 

But big rats used to hang out there 

I've seen the pond fully drained once 

But didn't notice any treasure beneath the mud

A lot of devotees come during the Sabarimala season

And they hangout on the walls of the pond

A myth tells that there is an underground tunnel

That connects the pond with the sea 

When the temple is lit with a hundred thousand lamps

The reflection on the pond is mesmerizing 

This is an iconic temple pond in my city Thiruvananthapuram. The image is taken from the Stock. 

Happy Hours In The Sky

Lightyears away 

There's a constellation 

of alcoholic gas 

A space brewery

Spread across millions of miles 

With a bit of dust 

It's a dreamland in sky for the boozers 

It gives hopes about life formation 

In planets with methanol and other 

Life inducing molecules 

Methanol is not safe to drink 

Those wishing to drink heavenly booze

Should take filters with them 

To enjoy happy hours in the sky 

I hope some boozers will reach there 

Someday to steal the heavenly booze

The alcoholic rings with dust around 

The planets give insights into the 

Formation of planets from the stars 

There's a comet that has spilled

Millions of gallons of ethanol and sugar

Gives hope to finding booze self-sufficient 

Comets for happy hours life 

I dreamed of a planet with alcoholic

clouds lagoons with liquid alcohol 

It has nice caves to live with gas masks 

Big craters to hold the water after 

Splitting it from the alcohol 

Inside the pressurized enclaves 

We can have happy hours with 

Planetary booze and leafy veggies 

From the vertical gardens 

When earth becomes poisonous to live 

Living in planetary colonies become

A necessity to survive 

A poem inspired by the discovery of alcoholic gases and a comet spilling alcohol he space. Image from India Times. Thank you :)

A Blank Mind

 

A blank mind 

With no memories of the past

No knowledge of the present 

Lost in thoughts 

Most of the time 

Now a homeless man

At a bus stop shelter

Talking aloud alone 

Screaming at the travelers

Living a life of a strange man 

In a city, he came for something

He had a long beard and long hair  

He wore trendy outfits, but now unclean 

No masks to wear during the pandemic 

Living at the mercy of  nearby restaurants

He kept water filled in leftover bottles 

He slept on the bench at the bus stop 

Be it rain or humid day, he remained there 

He must have come from a far away place

He talks in a strange language

Not belonging to the region  

His family might be waiting for his return 

Did he lose his mind over a heartbreak?

Or due to a head injury? 

At night, he becomes the guardian 

Of the bust stop shelter 

Even stray dogs don't mess with him 

Even the Police didn't mind his presence 

He survived there for so many months 

And then he vanished without a trace 

I wonder if he got back his memory

Or his family traced him for good 

Image from Unsplash. Picture taken by Patrick Robert Doyle .Thankyou :)

Falling In Love

A pretty smile from her teenage 

That stayed in my heart secretly 

As we grew into close friends 

Spending hours sharing little things 

Like happiness, incidents and secrets 

I realised she looked up to me faithfully

I felt a spark in my heart about her 

Her smile over the years became prettier

My mind couldn't stop thinking about her 

Her way of telling things first to me with 

So much excitement made me feel good 

Conversations with her became special 

Butterflies flew in my tummy whenever 

I heard her voice rumbling her things

I used to wait for her monthly call eagerly 

Sneaking away from her college or home

The calls became frequent over the time 

I couldn't tell her that I fell in love with her 

As her best friend,I couldn't let her down

I wrote many poetries about her secretly 

She let me flirt with her on valentines day 

I felt an intense bond thriving between us

Without uttering anything about love 

She became romantic and we became 

Mad lovers separated by the time zones 

She showered me with so much affection

Her husky voice became my morning light 

I shared my poetries about her, she liked 

I saw a life with her closer to a beach 

She invited me to her city to move ahead 

This poem is based on prompt "Describe what it was like to fall in love".

A Recurring Nightmare

 

Days after my father's demise 

I started seeing him in my dreams

It brought some relief to my heart

But it turned into a nightmare soon

I ran around to find an ambulance

And taking him to the hospital 

Only to be told that he was brought dead

I saw it again in my native place 

I had to run all the way to a junction 

To get a mini-ambulance 

To take my dad to a hospital

Again I Was told that he was brought dead

I started losing sleep 

I was living in a loop of a recurring nightmare 

That took me to the night where 

I struggled to get a vehicle on time

To take my dad to the hospital 

Where I was told, it was five minutes too late

I've seen the motionless body of my dad 

My mind felt guilty for being irresponsible

Not acting briskly enough to save my dad 

For nearly four months 

I kept seeing the nightmare and kept waking up 

In the middle of the nights 

I felt it was real and I was trying my best 

But every time I failed 

Until I tried a meditation 

Suggested by a friend 

I started getting good sleep 

And I stopped seeing that nightmare