Surged Poems

In the Wake of Transformation

Affirmed & Perfect
I looked at my reflect, 
Green T-shirt paired with black pants, 
Hopes of bright future surged ahead. 

I waited long, till a van came, 
Reached late when class had already commenced, 
Nervous and unknown in that herd, 
I thought, 
Someone would know the Aditi I left. 

With each passing day, 
I, too, failed to recollect. 
Adjusting among peers, 
I left laughter, fun and ease. 

All still went well, 
Until I was mocked for which I was best. 
Making a front bencher hide at last, 
Uninterested to struggle further,
She surrendered too fast. 

Leaving her nurturers disheartened, 
She cried alone at dark nights on bed. 

Simultaneously, a heart break came. 
Cracking a whole of four chambers in million shards. 
I remember I had said;
'Changes & Adjustments can't be for vain'. 

I didn't knew, 
How a white lie was used;
To ease our worries, 
For the uncertain future ahead.

Message in a Seashell's Shanty Melody

Far inland, in the cold and gloomy, 
misty wooded mountains,
I huddled up to an open fire.
I picked up a large conch shell,
clad in mother of pearl, 
resting by the fireplace and listened,
eye-to-ear, to its bottled, 
shanty message.

I heard the soft familiar, 
sweet hissing sound, 
of the ocean’s breath.
Not a roar, not a crash,
but akin to 
a mother weeping with joy.
to have her lost child back,
in the arms of the sea.

The sound surged and waned,
with wave-like surges 
breaking and rolling in a lilting lullaby.
Ebbing with the tide,
receding in a glide,
en-gracing in its slide,
into my consciousness.

For some like me, are sea creatures, 
devoted lovers of the sea,
that the sea loves to welcome back.
The sea never forgets.
It casts its seashells adrift,
far and wide,
with a message within,
to lure its lovers back home
to 'Mater Mare', the sea.

Cascading Colors

A Kaleidoscope, my best toy!
Hours flew as new colors emerged,
A cascade of abstract-colored joy
Myriad patterns of colors surged.

Colorful glass in serpentine slides,
Slithered across an imagined sky.
Is there a lunar planet that hides,
in colored glass as time hurries by?

I pretended the colors were stars,
I could travel on one of my choice.
I would sing songs as we flew afar,
And I would smile, a lilt in my voice.

I wish I still knew that magic land,
and had the key to travel the sky.
Phosphorous nebula in my hand,
As colored glass stars and I flew by.

To Eurydice

her steps rhyme with mine
an echo between yearn and daunt
I ask her to keep pace, her shadows pine
voices behind me, slick and gaunt
—the phantoms want to keep her
the light ahead hazy, yet I demur
we’re so close—or too close
panic surged deliriously, in prose—
my eyes turn to my asphodel...
her lost shadow whispers:     ‘farewell.’

Touch

Childhood has me
with a fevered brow 
being gently stroked 
and bathed in the cool 
of a caring breath
as I lay sick -
recalling, when I was
only six years old,
the electric thrill
that surged through me
when brushed by the shoulder
of Patricia Clark
in a classroom 
at primary school
and fell in love - 
and feeling 
the tense tremble
beneath the feathery soft
body of a pigeon
I cradled in my hands
as it slowly let go,
closed its eyes
and died.

In the prison of its isolation
the soul craves the gift
of touch.

ADVANCEMENT?

Our faces glow
not with wisdom but with empty pride
when our phones perform a trick
a poem weaved in seconds
devoid of a human touch yet praised as art.

We leave the farm & our trade
To watch a match a thousand miles played.
We cheer & we bet & we shout and clap
And lose our roots within the trap.

But do we ever pause
and ask what’s slipping through the cracks?
Can we still think without a screen?
Can we stop and reflect on our tracks?

Yes, the world has surged ahead
and we with it
but what of the ills & the confusion it brings with it?
What of our glorious past
That we’ve made outdated and an outcast?

Must we always
swim with the tide
even when it pulls us
from ourselves?

touched by spirit

knowing rested, we surrendered
bliss beats rose, magnetism thundered
profound wisdom downloads began
mind fell silent whilst heart wondered

spirit performed a body scan
rapture rose, we sang with elan
polarities merged, heart was purged
we saw the world as one large clan

consciousness in bliss mists submerged
caused us to do as by love urged
we saw God’s face in direct sight
power of kundalini surged

forged in God’s form, we too are light
He walks beside us day and night
what’s there to fear when He’s so near
assuring us we’ll be alright

Velvet Moon Zephyr Song

Written: April 7, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France

"Quote: We, like the moon, must go through phases of brightness and darkness, yet we survive. By Poet"

        ***************

In comfort, finest pearl, we tread,
sad times brighten with organic cheer.
Pledged love without pretentious fear,
hand in hand through the darkness led.

Sunset drawings on life's paintbrush grew,
Oasis revealed where dreams dwell deep.
Walk on a razor's edge with truths to seep,
Aspirations surged above the sky's hue.

The moon sailed on the velvet sky, and dust fell,
Eager song in Zephyr light, as solace, dwells.

Healing Embrace

Clouds of despair drifted in seamless sky of sorrow, 
storm surged from the dismal horizon of mind’s visage, 
showered tears in psychic streamlets in torrential flow, 
like the rolling rills of raindrops on the face of foliage. 

All the dark clouds didn’t dissolve in the deluge of grief, 
a lone clump clasped the crushed heart in emotion deep,
like the raindrops concealed in the fold of sodden leaf, 
     waited within me to wail for the promises you didn’t keep.      

     With the emotive brine condensing agony in pail of pain,        
the teardrops got poised on the eyelashes for a while.
Like the slithering raindrops the leaning leaves drain, 
they slid down slowly with the dreams’ debris pile. 

Down the crumbled creases of the pallid cheek,
cascaded the silent streams of soothing grace.
A touch of divine succor the mangled mind could seek
in the course of teardrops and in its healing embrace.

The Wait That Never Ended

I stood there for you, 
Waiting for your return,
Long enough for you to realize 
How my precious love, care,
And affection can't be denied.

The sun rose high,
The moon began to shine,
Days flew past,
Rains came and went by,
Yet I still stood there,
waiting for you to arrive.

My eyes swollen, red, and blurry,
Face dull and pale,
Lips dry and aching,
Still, I waited for you to come back.

Days turned to weeks,
Each one crushing my hopes again and again.
How long would it take?
I wondered-until my very last breath.

And then, there you were,
Emerging from the haze.
My eyes went blind
As the sound of laughter reached my ears.

Tears fell as you held
Your queen's hand tight.
Jealousy surged,
Yet my pain chose to hide.

But as if that pain was not enough,
I came to realize-
It was all a lie
That shattered my life.

All the while I stood waiting,
You never even thought twice.

Wave Trawling

Where the tide licks a sandy beach
a running ripple
thins to wash a ring of rounded pebbles -
there, a muddy ribbon
trickles through brine rinsed trinkets
surged up as a slosh of time
from the oceans depth.

Here be the bones of seahorse dragons,
and the beached and bloated
pods of marine algae,
Fractured mollusk shells splinter,
carapace and claws swell
in a mutual dross,
a trawled-up flotsam
tossed upon
low spin drifting waves.

A sculptured driftwood
expressed into mythic forms
anchors its art where the wind combs.
Sometimes coins, both new and old, surface
to be pocketed once more.
Obscure metallic treasures knuckle
and poke-mark the shoreside
with their unanswered questions.

I walk an ankle-deep dawn light
shipwrecked on my own shores edge.
A seagull's homeless cry
keeps me fishing for new depths.

Captain Miller : The First Black Tiger

In the shadowed dawn of distant days,
Where echoes whispered of lost ways,
There stood a name, etched deep in lore,
Captain Miller, amidst the roar.

A soldier forged from fire and flame,
Bound to cause, beyond mere name,
With eyes that held grief and pride,
For lands and lives, for those who died.

Steel and sorrow marked his path,
Through broken fields, through aftermath.
A journey weighed with hope and cost,
In battles won, in voices lost.

But history paints with shades of gray,
Heroes, villains blurred by day.
To some, a fighter fierce and strong,
To some, echoes of what went wrong.

Yet beyond the banners, blood and strife,
Lies a tale of fleeting life.
Of choices made, of hearts grown still,
Of dreams that surged against the will.

So let the story rise and fall,
In silent woods, through every call.
For Vallipuram Vasanthan's name still remains,
A thread within war's vast domains.

Sculpted by the Heavens, Haunted by the Wild

Born of stone and scripture, a chiseled child, 
Shaped by shadows, where duty smiled. 
A father's fist, a granite line, 
Molded expectations, a design divine.

Mother, a tempest, wind in her hair, 
Bipolar whispers, a haunting flare. 
Her moods, like lightning, crackled and surged, 
Leaving scars in shadows, unspoken, unpurged.

Within this fortress, my spirit confined, 
By laws celestial, a heart defined. 
But beneath the surface, where secrets hide, 
A yearning for freedom, a restless tide.

Will the sculptor's hammer cease its cruel art? 
Or will I break free, tear the canvas apart? 
From Heaven's chisel, and storms untold, 
A soul may emerge, brave and bold.

So I stand at the crossroads, where shadows contend, 
Will Heaven reclaim me, or will I transcend? 
With one whispered promise, one defiant spark, 
I'll forge my own path, leave a rebel's mark.

Born of the Heavens, haunted by the wild, 
The chiseled child rises, a spirit reconciled.

Wild Is The Night

The dispersed grains of darkness drizzle down silently
from the cauldron of boundless blankness of timeless infinity
that the sky starts to shape at the edge of dwindling dusk,
its condensed remnant configures the nebulous night. 

The silken tapestry of the black blanket spreads slowly
as the twilight dissolves at the hinge of the hazy horizon,
like the rinsed rainbow melting upon the skyline clouds,
from where satin darkness flows with untamed fluid night. 

Sonorous sound of silence echoing in the esoteric night sky  
wakes up the sleeping stars one by one to sparkle entangled 
on the bejeweled crown adorning the ardent ambiance,
as moonbeam strands weave for me the sequestered dream of you.

In stardust surged desolate nocturnal niche I wait mystified
for you to emerge out of my dream with seraphic feral flair,
walk in the squally craving corridor of my mesmerized mind,
where bracing amorous allure my longing feels wild is the night.

Dreams Adrift Ocean

I entered the world of sleep,
Where creations danced on waves.
Cliffs loomed vast and deep,
Their mystery stirred the brave.

The rhythmic ocean’s motion,
And the world’s life-laden view,
Revealed secrets of the ocean,
Surprisingly witnessed by few.

I watched a sailor take his ride,
Steering the boat with flair—then he fell.
Though currents surged with the spring tide,
I held tight to my precious shell.

Then crackling sounds broke the dream,
Nature’s embrace slipped away, so nice.
For a moment, bound by a wild, green theme,
Till reality struck—my bowl of rice.

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