Jayashree Naidu || I AM

Since the day I became conscious about my existence..

the journey is unpredictable
colors of emotions on my canvass

tHeN
others dipped my brush in theirs
insisted this is your color..

some even painted the canvass
and said you follow me...

torn in the colors that I don't identify
confusion in the unknown meanings

unheard canvass
unsung colors..

NoW
the brush searched my hand
colors colored the palette
spread the horizon into my canvass
the others flew like feathers
the dreams dipped the stars
the sparkles are the EYES!

AND there emerged the soul of my painting.. I AM!

Translation~ Ro Hith / / When you come //

‎Afsar/ నువ్వొచ్చేటప్పుడు....!

ఎటు నించి ఎప్పుడొస్తావో
తెలీదు గాని
నువ్వొచ్చేటప్పుడు
కాసింత నిశ్శబ్దాన్ని పట్రా...

వొక నిరామయ నిరాలోచననీ పట్రా...

1

సతమతమయి వున్న గదిలో గాలినీ వెలుతురినీ నులిమేసిన ఇరుకు గోడల్లో లోపలంతా ఇంకిపోయిన ఎడారిలో

2

రాలినపూల వొంటి మీద వూరేగుతున్న శబ్దాల రెపరెపల్లో నిప్పు పూలు పూసిన కన్రెప్పల్లో కాయలై కాసిన చూపుల్లో

3

కలల్ని నిద్రపోనివ్వని కళ్ళల్లో నీడల్ని నెమరేసే నీళ్ళల్లో

4

ఎటు నించి ఎప్పుడొస్తావో కానీ,

నువ్వొచ్చేటప్పుడు

చింతాకంత నిశ్శబ్దం
ఎంతో కొంత మౌనం!

_________________________________________________

Translation~ Ro Hith/ When you come

Bring some silence
wherever you come from
and forget not
that perpetual thoughtlessness.

1

...from that desert
where everything had sunk
pulverizing air and light
between those congested walls
of a worrying room

2

...from the procession
of fluttering melody
over the body of tumbled petal,

from the fire-buds of longing in eye

3

...from eyes that never let
dreams to sleep

...from streams that ponder shadows

4

Wherever you come from
whenever...

forget not to bring
a tamarind leaf sized silence
and some quietness.

Nauduri Murthy||Thanksgiving||

We eulogize our parents, kneel before teachers,
Pay obeisance to idols, and praise every benefactor…
Write poetry on our love, lyrics to our heart-throb,
Elegies in the heartache, play Endymion for a Selene,
And make rainbows out of our pale inane existence.
But when it comes to thanksgiving, some never figure out on the list,
And of those, we are prudent, tongue-tied, or grossly inadequate.

***
Connate with this corpus from conception
Oh my senses and sensors! You have made me what I am.
But for you I would never have travelled the distances I had,
Nor perceived and indulged in this spectacular world, oh, me!
It grieves to leave, yet a new stint is equally tempting.
And before I am dragged out of this house reluctantly
And watch dumbly, you being impaled and consigned
Let me thank you with all my heart, dear senses and dear limbs!
And as a tribute to you dear frame, I shall leave behind the name!

*24.7.2012

Jayashree Naidu||one is born...||

one is born... to die
the journey in between
a fathomless one

the journey starts
to reach the end
the path is me

i met me
somewhere
and carrying the burden
of hopes and despairs

at places its dark
bright at some
some are clear
some dusty

the pace faster..
slower.. rather
to catch up with friends
loner is the soul

it sees the distant
with eye invisible
speaks in silence
always the truth
the hand extended
is from the skies
caring for all the troubles
the conscious gets in!

travel travel loner!
gather the stars dust
the fate has it all
time - knock knock
the final call
lets u take nothing...

*22.7.2012

Jayashree Naidu || Momentous Silence ||

‎silence is the coolest..
silence is the warmest..

silence is a forest
silence is the everest

silence is a hurricane
silence is a travelling lane..

silence is a falling leaf...
silence is what the moment is made of!!


*16-07-2012

Rakshita Suma || New Extension of Twinkle twinkle little star ||

Twinkle twinkle little star,
How i wonder what you are?
Up about the world so high,
Like a Diamond in the sky.

Dimple shinning little Moon,
Have you got the own shine?
No no children not my own,
I have brought it from the sun!

when the sun is getting down,
we all come to your town!
Twinkle twinkle all the night,
Dimple shinning all so bright.
*16-07-2012

Ro Hith || Sparrows ||

In the summers of May
a troop of grey sparrows
used to flow into our lane
as an escaped cloud of monsoon
roosted on the neem tree
and pollinated the music they
brought from different worlds.
When someone shooed them
they all rose into sky
as a single tide with million chirps
and flew to neighbour's compound wall
and then to the current pole
sopping the world with music.

Elders chopped the neem tree
as the sparrows were causing
ripples in their still lives.
Sparrows didn't return the next summer
the silence of May remained dry
and some unconventional rains
withered the street.

*14-07-2012

Ro Hith || Letter ||

Ma frequently says
when i was 6 years old
i used to draw on walls
on countless number of papers
bills and brother's notebooks.
I used to draw green hills
Where even an ant waits for my order to bite
And a half sun with red crayon
that always questions me- to rise or to set?
A river breathed by hills
a thatched hut on the bank
and an unopened letter on its doorstep.

Even now
The image of hills, half sun
and hut under the palm tree
screen behind my eyelids
And when ever a new letter falls
on the doorstep
A poem forms itself in me.

* 12-07-2012