Best Chitra Poems
Memories mottle my butterfly’s wings
Shimmering and cute they are from my past
And a new song the bard in me now sings
On two sweet ones from the database vast.
“ Chitra Salabh” is the word in my tongue
For this insect so loved by old and young
But “Chitra” is our star female playback
Those days, my son was learning his speak
TV was on.. and” Chitra” , mentions some one
Hearing the word, jumps up for joy, my son
And exults, “ I saw chitra”..Too young then
To know ’ Chit’, ’ Butterfly’ was what he meant
Some years on, a lovely lady I met
Leela Naidu, wife of poet Dom Moraes
“A double grandma, I am now” , she said,
“ But are those butterflies still there in your place?”
“Those black and white ones I saw in my youth”.
I knew not then she was Miss India once
And a sizzling Bollywood beauty, to boot
All that I learnt a little late, by chance.
For P.D’s ‘Old butterfly poem”
S.Jagathsimhan Nair, 09 Oct 2011
It was never her choice,
to be into the red gallows.
Body sold in the witching hour,
forsaking her hemorrhaged soul,
she moves on.
Twitching in pain,
trembling limbs,
scars of yesterday’s lust,
squashing the very being out of her,
yet she bounces back in the morning.
A wife and a mother,
her own choice,
her only aberration,
falling in love with a man,
who placed her under the red light,
with harrowing nights.
Just for the livelihood of her family,
which her man should have given,
she sold herself every day.
The lusty eyes,
that could have grazed upon the innocent,
she cools that lust off,
at the cost of her nights.
Today she is at crossroads,
her man being bludgeoned to death.
She ran from one hospital to another,
with her mate writhing in pain.
God – speed said few of her clan,
from the crimson gallows.
Succumbed he did,
with the setting sun.
Disowned by society,
and now by protectors of law too,
She stood there perplexed.
Benumbing silence engulfed her,
She held two arms tight,
better or worse life would enfold,
unaware, unperturbed she stood there,
a defying silence,
chilling the soul.
It was not her choice,
to be pushed into the red gallows,
now with two innocent souls,
walking along by her side,
On these roads!
@Chitra Arun
May 2022
I have been gone for a while
needed time to regroup
this delectable mixture
this poetry soup
When I am not here
I wonder with query
uplifting comments of Karen Leary
Kristin Reynolds my friend
this is not a wrap
as she weaves you into her poetry trap
Sharon Weimer my sweet
just how are you
she molds you into her poetry stew
Patricia Adams, Heidi Buys and Chitra Lakhera
I hold none closer or who are dearer
Janice Herzog, Carrie Richards, and Christy Hardy
pour in the ingredients of this tasty party
Rhoda Galgani, Elaine George, and Laura Mckenzie
who stir up the words and stir something in me
Sara Lokken, Farah Chamma, Fathima Dawood
so inspiring the ingredients so delicious, so good
Teresita Cailo, Adell Foster and Constance Lafrance
this smorgasbord, so hearty it makes one dance
flavors and seasonings that makes up this group
all the ingredients enhanced by diverse poetry soup
TO THE ONES THAT I MISSED
NOT AN INTENTIONAL SLIGHT
SO MANY TO ADD IN NOT AN
OVERSIGHT IT JUST GOES TO SHOW OF
THE DIVERSITY WITHIN
BECAUSE WRITING UNITES AND ALL
COLORS BLEND
BECAUSE POETRY IS COLOR BLIND
AND WE SHOULD BE AS WELL
MAY WE ALL HAVE A BETTER YEAR
AND LIVE TO TELL THE TALE
Distance may keep us apart,
Argument may happen when we meet.
Yet unexplainable is the feeling that we both share.
Our hearts may be miles apart,
Yet Soul in unison.
We may not be able to express a lot,
Yet the best of partners we both are.
Like a rainbow beneath the cloud,
Always u came by to light up a smile.
Whenever life thrashed me down
For many reasons unexplained.
My eyes searched for you
And always found you by my side.
Standing there always to show me that you care.
Your presence my love makes my heart feel light.
As long as you stand by
Nothing can give me a fright.
@Chitra Arun
Patradoot or The Messenger 4/Many
English version by
Ravindra K Kapoor
Decorated with the beauty of letters,
Your clear body would be ornamented,
And as a wing of my broken heart,
You will steal my feelings, dear.
Ravindra
Kanpur India. 12th May 2010 to continue in 5
Transliteration of Hindi poem in English- Patradoot or the Messenger.
Aunka Bhusan Se Bhushit Tub,
Nirmal Bun Tu Jayega,
Bhagna Hardaya Ka Bhuj Buna Tu
Chnchal Chitra Churayega.
Patradoot in Hindi written by
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
The morning sun shines into my window.
I am awake thinking,
thinking about our long lost days.
Those days were so wonderful.
We were like the leaves on the trees,
bright and beautiful.
We were like a rainbow,
the leaves, the dancing flames of fire,
and the sweet, soft scent of a rose.
But soon we left,
drifting far away.
there is no looking back.
Oh, how I long to see the spring again.
When will we be home again,
once again to be bright and beautiful?
For I miss you so very much.
Remembering those days brings tears to my eyes and a smile to my face.
You are the one I care for,
the family I love,
and the one I long to see once more and grow bright and beautiful..!
©Chitra Arun
To be unrestrained and happy,
the only reverie I contemplated about.
For those who would never come by,
are the only prized memories now.
Every time fate crushed me,
I held on and bled.
Every time I tried to listen,
leaden silence deafened me.
Every time I longed for rainbows,
a deluge of tears filled my soul.
Barricade of orphanage culled me.
Empty stomach reigned my nights,
scorns and mocking looks,
bore deep into my heart.
Hope was all that I had,
offering courage to hang on.
Like a lonely dancer on stage,
to play my distressing part,
oblivious of the rolled down curtains,
in this theatre of my soul.
With no chance to fly,
an unfortunate chrysalis I am,
metamorphosis giving new life.
To one and all I say,
pause and don’t shut your heart,
to a little girl and
listen to the silence of her soul,
asking for nothing more than a chance.
@Chitra Arun, May 2022
The day of birth decided,
the date of Death.
In the theatre of life that unlatched,
happiness to what count
heartaches to what count to be taken,
to be scripted down on my own.
Knew this all,
spoke it all,
but the ambrosial journey that started,
now being pervaded by languor.
Due to a Gaslit Soul!
A journey of thousand miles
one step made it curtailed
Now locked in the scarred walls
Of a Gaslit Soul!
©?Chitra Arun
2023
A day at the bank,
I could never forget,
With the scowl-faced monsters all around.
Am I in the prehistoric Jurassic age? I thought.
They smell the greens so well,
their ear for the tinkles so clear.
Those radiating smiles,
reflecting their urge to hunt down their prey,
those who just walked down to them unaware.
Their transition from the meek to the prowl,
and from prowl to scowl.
A day in the bank I could not forget.
@Chitra Arun
I sat there in an edge of a seat of an overly packed train,
trying to snatch forty winks,
to get away from the excruciating back pain.
Dosed off sometime unknown,
felt a soft touch caressing through my face,
woke up to see her standing by my side.
I grabbed her hands,
pressed my face into her soft,
supple palm and sobbed out loud,
She stroked my hair lovingly and whispered,
I am the only one who's there with everyone when they are down and depressed,
still don't know why everyone calls me A "Necromancer"
I Am "Solitude"!
©Chitra Arun
Hospital Corridors
The corridors of the hospital have so many tales to tell,
my new found friends are the security guards,
"Standing at your service they say",
without even a second of pause they stand there.
With tales a many to unfold through the night,
so that they can keep their wink away.
Not a drop of water to drink,
nor a place to sit,
at attention, they stand,
at your service their motto.
My pain and boredom so minuscule,
amidst these men who stand in those corridors,
as if they were sentinels in warfare,
with worn-out eyes,
yet at your service, it speaks.
Men at work they are indeed,
and I find myself now not alone with my boredom,
in these lonely corridors which have so many tales yet to unfold in days to come!
©Chitra Arun
Straying back to the dreams,
I stand here glancing at the flirting butterflies,
crooning hummingbirds,
grasslands, trees, and floral beds.
Air brimming with a fiery glance,
Kissing her beloved, the distant horizon.
The mesmeric pearls of teardrop of the earth gently sway,
with the halo of colors sprayed on her by her beloved, the sky.
Blessed I am with the lucid rejuvenation bestowed onto me by my mother nature, benumbing my senses in an anesthetic bliss,
I stand here witnessing the love-hate affair of the stream and the sky,
with untangled dreams washed clean.
The unknown begins,
the wind whispers to the dancing trees about a thousand secrets.
The rain cleanses the stained earth and makes it sacred.
The night had played its quiet music,
life is born,
man, and nature,
nature and creation bonding in the final synthesis!
© Chitra Arun
The scarlet glow of my soul is omnipresent,
when I gazed at the glow,
the radiance in me rekindled.
@Chitra Arun
You came tiptoeing into the fortress that I build,
Broke the shackles that cinched my soul, with your shimmering eyes.
Disintegrated the iron chains that I wore,
with the warmth of your smile and the fondness in your heart.
Liberating caged birdie, which I held on.
Au naturel I am now.
Looking at life yet again with a child like glee.
Buddy, berserk I wish to go,
with the news of your departure.
Wish I could hide you from all,
Keeping you all for myself.
But I have to let you go
To explore new frontiers,
And make new friends.
Fly my friend, fly
I would not hold you back,
though my heart bleeds
And my soul cries.
A space in my crimson hollow you would always have,
Silently, wishing you more smiles,
and more happiness where ever you go.
©Chitra Arun
Nov 2022
Grime under the table cloth
Beneath the fluorescent lights and sterile walls,
Lurks an undercurrent of unspoken strife.
The daggers are kept hidden, the words unsaid,
But the tension is palpable,
A throbbing wound.
For all the forced cordiality,
the animosity seethes underneath.
©?Chitra Arun