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Mahesh Pethakamsetty Poem
"Oh dear theist",
Thus spoke the lord from the distant skies.
It never matters me,
the size of my idol you worship.
I fail to see,
those lumps of colours with which you drain me.
The forms of my idols that fancy you,
Do not fancy me.
A poor man's ball of rice,
and the rich man's delicious sweet make no difference.
Neither I see your wealth and power,
nor those enormous idols you keep.
I pity mankind,
for making me tall and tall over records.
I laugh seeing my idols to your left and right,
though you know, everywhere its me.
People prefer POP,
when mud and clay makes me even happy.
More I see, Your dedication in my decoration,
than your expected devotion.
My immersion,
you organise is a grand way, throttling traffic.
The decorative' s from my idol,
perish the fish and the tadpole.
A logic as simple as the buzz of the honey bee,
is all that the mankind lacks.
Purity in your heart,
and truth in your devotion is all what I see.
Service to the one in need,
gives me more pleasure than the tallest of the idols. #PSM
Copyright © Mahesh Pethakamsetty | Year Posted 2015
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Mahesh Pethakamsetty Poem
Thus, came to an end,
both the depth of my breath,
and our happy sail,
on the waves of the pacific.
The iceberg pierced the giant,
sucked us,
of our joy and dreams,
families deserted and orphans born.
To those chilling waves,
we froze,
with jaws wide apart,
and our teeth went crystal.
Our tears went unnoticed,
superior were those,
icy beams of the pacific,
that froze our tears half way down.
we floated for hours,
on those old dusty structures of wood,
they could bear not more than one,
relations along with dreams, we had to sacrifice.
thus froze my body in the icy arms,
my pulse stampeded,
and hopes shattered
so speaks my soul from the distant skies. #PSM
Copyright © Mahesh Pethakamsetty | Year Posted 2015
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Mahesh Pethakamsetty Poem
Its now three nights past,
me turning four.
I hardly knew what happened later,
and my sweet granny was on the ventilator.
She lived strong,
even at the stupendous sixty.
My dad turned restless,
be it day or night.
The doctors said,
"Its too hard to settle things".
Many were those ailments and tender wounds,
that her body bore.
She hid all that pain,
and kept me happy even at the worst times.
She forgot those knee cramples she suffered,
when she ran behind me to feed.
Mom spent hours in front of the idol,
Wishing a speedy recovery.
But i never knew what would happen,
for those granny memories that haunted me.
I felt proud,
few days back.
I punched the stout big granny on her chest,
yet she masked her pain to keep me happy.
Now that punch,
is what gazes my sight.
ashamed, I am,
for all that i did.
Now for the doctors pamper,
granny turned fit.
I leapt four to five,
From my place to the hospital ward.
One tight hug,
and a flood of tears, I drained.
Tears rolled down granny's cheeks,
but i knew, they were seeing me happy. #PSM
Copyright © Mahesh Pethakamsetty | Year Posted 2015
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Mahesh Pethakamsetty Poem
I rest half dead on the street,
aside the yelling dog,
surviving the gutter's stinky treat,
i do shiver to the chilling fog.
I pick up the roadside rag,
fill my tummy with the roadside stale,
am thrown aside by the vendors harsh drag,
depressed and disheartened, i turn pale.
I get pitied for the jobs i do,
I polish the rich man's boot,
and tie his laces too,
living i make in no other route.
I cry to the fullest with the wall,
when a kid yells out in pain "mom",
soon after a fall,
Woes i share, with the next sitting tom.
People to dust my bruises are none,
not an asset, i call it my own,
I feed on the leftover when the riches are done,
with my head always down. #PSM
Copyright © Mahesh Pethakamsetty | Year Posted 2015
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Mahesh Pethakamsetty Poem
It's almost 9 months,
me in this dark and tight bag.
Crouched were my knees,
and upside down, my torso.
I wanted to step out,
and this bag got narrower than ever.
Depression made me roll left and right,
I did try to stretch my feet at times.
I did hear some sounds of pain,
every time, I tried this.
Fancied, I was by those pieces of scream,
I rolled more and more.
That sound never ceased, A day.
though I stayed as still as a statue.
I felt a gesture of rush,
I noticed being carried with panic.
The bag around me,
was no more calm.
It showed wavy movements,
Which intensified with time.
Neither those sounds,
nor these movements seemed to cease.
Adding to my panic,
now was a push at my feet.
I was forced out at head,
and more louder where those sounds now.
More, The push i experienced,
More were those sounds, I heard.
To my amazement,
I was out at last.
Surprisingly, Those screams came to halt,
Which escorted me out of captivity.
I gazed a broad smile on the person,
who kept me in captivity so far.
She took me into her tender palms,
that clutched me with ample love.
I now realized, it was she yelling in pain,
I heard all these days.
She sustained all that copious pain,
to let me out.
My so called captivity,
was indeed which put me to form.
She shared her diet,
and collected my waste.
Minutes back that sound failed to cease,
and now that smile failed to.
May be this is the purest love,
and I call it MOM.
Copyright © Mahesh Pethakamsetty | Year Posted 2015
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