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Best Poems Written by Rohini Balram

Below are the all-time best Rohini Balram poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

Let Me Go Osteoarthritis

Many days I am as frisky as dandelions of the diaspora
With mine liberated wings in the pristine skies I fly… fly… 
Other days it is unbearable to sit up right
And must have a soft cushion to hold me safe; I cry… cry…


Most of the days I am able to jump the rainbow’s height
My resilient soul takes me high… high…
Some days taking a foot forward is like Everest on my back
A helping hand I must hold; I am so very shy… shy…


Yesterday I ran the speed of the fiery gusts
My frame promising a flight to heaven; so very nigh… nigh…
Today my hands fail to secure my shoe laces
The only painless movement in me, my gaze; but Why… why?

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

The Plight of 'Naraini' - Women of the Girmit Era

Young, gentle and in bondage
This innocent bird flew towards the promised land
Her frame petite yet powerful
Her eggs beautifully nested when transported from Calcutta

The sight of the new turf welcoming
A dream of hope and fair go brewing deep within
Day and night she laboured for payments equating to peanuts
The breadth of whips ploughed her like a bull in the harsh fields of Nadi

Her eggs now fertile
A pretentious malnourished glow adorning her face
No snug mattress at night
No baby shower

The scorching sun and the liberal rain
Her only companions to clad her in celebration
Cooked, then drenched, then burnt…
She finally delivers a dead bundle of tears

Her tragedy apparently not so sensational
Urging her overseer to order her back to the fields in four days
The memories of the dead child
Not at all dead in her head

Cold and depressed she refuses to present herself
Maternity leave a term alien on the ‘girmit’ fields
Gathering courage from ‘Durga’, she dares to speak of rights
Perhaps the very last time she spoke

The overseer, insulted and beats her near death
Lying in the fields with broken limbs and essence
Her veil the only bandage
To cover her wounds.

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

Indo-Fijian Girls Can Run

Indo-Fijian Girls CAN Run

I Remember...
Clearly as my memories of Fiji’s blue tropical skies
Desiring to raise my hand for the school’s track events until I heard the lies
Frail, short Indian girl was the brand I was tagged with
But deep down the desire to run I could never ditch

I Ran…
In the fields and I ran on the road
Believing that I was the fastest girl in the globe
Low suggestive whistles, catcalls and disapproving glares - my only reward
Frail, short Indian girl- my presumed physicality; this shackle daunting me from moving forward.

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

The Power of Love, Literacy and Faith

Once upon a time there was a palace over a secluded hill

Where lived an Indian blooded ‘Rani’ (Queen) with an inky will

Equipped and armed with a resourceful screen

With the might of her pen, for revolution she would melodiously scream

Each time the ordinary would look up to the hill and see

The flames in her bosom passionately rising to create history

The lushest of Kings from neighbouring lands

Chose to ride for eons to witness the miracles of her resourceful hands

With faith and light, she ruled from land to shore

Glitches out of their virginity; all nipped to the core

Against all bitterness her love spread like the chimes of the Big Ben

To save rebellious souls, she would walk unarmed in to any lion’s den

The Savage, many times would plot for her 'Raj' (kingdom) to crumble away

Not possible! For this Royal tigress each night would humbly kneel and pray.

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

1947-The Peeing of the Peaked Peasantry - a Mocktail

Monah Kaur and Robert Kumar fled from London, came to ‘Hindustan’; tied the knot
The 'Singhs' stopped their songs and 'Kumars at no. 42' burnt their studio; this rebellion; they will forget not
A petite piece of land was gifted by Uncle Prem to mark their freedom
With much thought the newly wed called it Garden of Eden
They cleared the plot from crawling matters and built a woody farm house 
Within a year, Monah gave birth to twins; Lisa died; Minnie who survived became quiet as a mouse
The air around still polluted in invasion and many cuffed in iron
The sun and moon fairer than in London but nothing seemed fine
The couple laboured and fostered peaches for Mr. Big Ben; returned home clad in blisters
Minnie cried; and cried; her parents had no time and she desired a couple of sisters
In financial distress the duo approached the heroic Farmer Bachan to assist his flock 
Pleased with their dedication he gifted them a Peacock.
Minnie cried louder now, seeing this English present; she wasn’t a fan
Bachan who was fond of the child, sent her way, a young Indian Peahen
Minnie’s tears lost its way in the Ganges as the new birds found their click
Around Christmas added to the family was a cute hybrid Pea-chick
What adorable ‘chana’ like eyes had she!
Without delay, Minnie named her Chick pea
Eden now a 'Rangoli'; 'Ranisas' and 'Nawabs' soothed in ‘Masala’ tea
All engrossed in the lights and sweetness of Diwali; no attention paid to the growth of The Serpent on that Apple tree.
Those daffodils patented to Wordsworth, danced in the air
In its abode, the serpent watched Eden, what a scare!
One morning, Minnie fetched a Brown ladder to reach the tree which dazzled with rounds of juicy red
The ladder attacked and killed; the child returned home badly bitten, almost to eternal slumber she bled
Bachan’s sheep strayed to the road that was not to be taken, decreased from many to few
Eden cried for The Good Shepard; The Foreign Raj ruthlessly bottled native stew
Prayers were answered and on a Tiger came a Flying sheriff called ‘Shroff’ 
Bedecked in turfy ‘ceps’ and ‘pecs’; this essence fought in ‘huff & puoff’
Over time; in years almost equal to Tendulkar's century; the Serpent grew wicked miles
The gladiator fought till his last breath, excreting the treacherous reptile back to the British Isles

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

Excuses For 'Dick-Ta-Tor-Ship' - the Short Man Syndrome

Height is not an issue
But today I got introduced to a nasty verbal stew
It was this one bullish kind of comment
Of odium and torment

Initially I thought, it was human nature
Coming from a relative who is short in stature
The tyrant venting with a curse
A sheer case of moral shortsightedness

‘Conquer the whole world and lose your own soul’
Egoistic pride becoming his ultimate goal
I wish He could really be a mentor
For when there is troubling waters, he steers the young to the shore

His ignorance makes me very very angry
I pray that of this treacherous plot, I am set free
If I were not 'born again' in Christ and he were a watermelon
I swear my words would have been a sharp knife and his mouth a cracked gallon

Spider-man, he definitely is not
Being a woman, I Wonder why he insists on making Fijian ‘lovo’ in a foreign pot
My family counselor said ‘it is the short man's syndrome’
Bullshit! Sheer ignorance; fact is, from childhood, he hasn't mentally grown.

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

A Punctuated Poem

When you looked in to my eyes, my heart was stolen

I felt butterflies all the way down to my colon :P

When you kissed me in the dark

With an exclamation, I left on you, a mark

You gave me the ‘hy’ and together we had ‘phen’ :D

With the chemistry we shared, marathons I did run

I got comfortable and called you in my room for tea

Oh! how i desired to be your possessive apostrophe 

Whenever I have been blue or down with heat rash

To my rescue without a second thought, you will dash

At times I do drift and look at some Caramel Chris

But back in your warm arms you have nested me in a loving parenthesis

Many times, I desire to elope or live with you in a comma

When societal full stops are visible from near and far.

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

My Pretty Little Red Rose

All roads they say lead to Rome
But this one was leading towards home
A fiery storm brewing in fractions
Ripples surge to thirstily kiss the river’s mouth for reactions
The hubbub silenced with an inner raspy roar!
This scenic drive, a famished lovers’ galore
Latched securely and songful on the mountainous terrain
Forecast for the voyage; torrential romantic rain

There is more than one way, they say, to skin a cat
Specials for today- heartfelt cuddles, sheltered pecks, fragrant whispers and that tender pat.
The savouring of the pulpy gourmets roots the rhythm of lub-dub towards abrupt
So much balminess in the ‘Beautiful’ carriage; hearts are bound to erupt!
The night skies start to blanket over, home now, not so far
The hero of my movie; that gracefully-embroidered sweet red star
With the age of days in delight I would pose
And each time my pinning eyes would grace my pretty little red rose...

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

Call My Name, Daddy

I am so accustomed to hear your voice Daddy!
“Ro!”
Never to be forgotten...
The most powerful syllable, only if spoken by you Daddy!
Like my childhood‘kirtans’ marinated with the rhythm of your harmonium
I can still hear your voice Daddy!
“Ro!”
It plays deep in me
“Take care; God bless you; have a safe flight... Bye”
Your last words; my Armour to walk strong in the remaining days of my life
I so want to hear your voice Daddy!
“Ro!”
Realms apart, restless and void,my gist searches
Begging for a chance to catch you when you took your last breath
I need to hear your voice Daddy!
“Ro!”
In our hearts your name is written with tears of Joy
‘Daffodils shall dance’ everlastingly in the memory of earth’s golden boy!
I live to hear your voice Daddy!
“Ro!”
Verbosity; they tell me, is my middle name
But today, all I desire to see is you standing at my room’s door with that usual bowl of grog and call my name!
“Ro! Ro! Ro!”
The skies of the 15th of November; ‘greyer’than your hair
Mum sobs the days and many nights in agony she will lay
Wini hides her pain physically labouring night and day
Poonam with her grief thousands of miles away
Bablu in agonising silence has started to pray
Fiona weeps; no longer that jovial Blue jay
As for me!
I hide in the blanket of the night; without my earthly shepard- I feel astray..
Call me just one more time Daddy!
“Ro!”

Details | Rohini Balram Poem

Country Road, Travel Me To My Humble Abode

The wheel twirls on the carpet of dusty gold; 
Caressing a story yet untold...
The paddock filled with dancing green Mermaids; 
The gaze in to eternal beauty fades... 
Peaks Joyous of the breeze;
A kiss or two?  What a tease...
The blazing golden ball high above;
Mellows down for a striking white dove...
Singing Nymphs luring with devotion; 
beguilingly the hands set to motion...
Country road travel me to my humble adobe
Set me free of this grave load...