Line Portraits


Sometimes our life is like drawing straight lines on a piece of paper. We draw a thousand lines each day and most of them are imperfect and often cross one another. But in the end, no matter what kind of lines you draw, we must not forget to make a picture out of it.

– Antomaniax

“പുഴപറഞ്ഞ കഥ”


പുഴയും കടലും ആലിംഗനത്തിലമരുന്ന കാഴ്ച എന്നും ഒരു വിസ്മയമാണ്.
അലറിയാർത്ത് തല തല്ലിത്തിമിർക്കുന്ന കടലിൻ കൈകൾ പുഴയുടെമാറിൽ എത്ര ശാന്തയാണ്.
അതെ,ഓരോ തിരമാലകളോടും അവർ രഹസ്യമായി എന്തോ മന്ത്രിക്കുന്നുണ്ട്.

കാടും മേടും നനച്ചു നീ, അതിരറ്റ സ്നേഹത്തിന്‍റെ കഥകൾ പറഞ്ഞു.
നാഗരികതയുടെ നാറുന്ന അഴുക്കുചാലുകളും പേറി നീ കണ്ണീരിന്‍റെ തീരാക്കഥകൾ കുറിച്ചു.
നട്ടുനനച്ചു വളർത്തിയവർത്തന്നെ നിന്നെ കിളച്ചു വറ്റിക്കുന്ന നന്ദികേടിന്‍റെ ചില കഥകൾ.
അങ്ങിനെ കഥകളുടെ ഭാണ്ഡവും തോളിൽപേറി ആരെയും കാത്തുനിൽക്കാതെ കടലിലലിയുന്നു നീ.
ഒടുക്കം ,സ്വാതന്ത്ര്യം എന്ന അനിവാര്യതയാണ് മരണം എന്നത് പുഴകള്‍ നമ്മെ വീണ്ടും ഓർമിപ്പിക്കുന്നു ….

ഒടുക്കങ്ങൾ എപ്പോഴും വേദനാജനകം തന്നെയാണ്.
എങ്കിലും നേരുള്ളതെന്തിന്‍റെയും അന്ത്യം അതുപോലെതന്നെ മനോഹരവുമായിരിക്കും.
ഒരു പുഴ ഇവിടെ, ഈ കടൽക്കരയിൽ അവസാനിക്കുകയാണ്.
എങ്കിലും കഥകൾ പറയാതിരിക്കുവാൻ അവർക്കൊരിക്കലുമാകില്ല.
കാരണം പുഴകൾ കഥാകൃത്തുക്കളാണ്.
ഈ മഹാസാഗരംതന്നെ പുഴകൾ നെയ്തുകൂട്ടിയ ഒരു വലിയ കഥയാണ്.

Perfectly imperfect.


Perfect pitch,
Perfect plan,
Perfect number,
Perfect relation,
Perfect, perfect, perfect,
And perfect.
We squander a lifetime, wish of making the perfect listing, and think of ways to meet such an attainable ideal and finally wonder “how to be perfect?’’
How foolish can we be?
Life does not have to be perfect to be wonderful. Beauty often lies in the imperfections like the flower I have kept in a vase on the other day. No matter how beautiful those cut flowers are, they decay. Perhaps in the end, what matters is that, whether we are true to ourselves or not. Therefore, it is always better not to cut our nose off to spite our face.
Guys, lets brighten up our day. We were born to be real, not to be perfect.

Light up again..

As light recedes from the sky-line,
Shadow’s wings crave to embrace green cover.
Quivering lips of darkness yearn,
to kiss her lover.

This is dusk,
Here, light cast a shadow over vision.
When silence rules, they make love
in the dark corner of oblivion.

Ay, I am the darkness!

My veil covers the lines,
which divide all visible directions.
My dark blood dissolves all,
the divides that separate humanity.

If you proclaim light as your father,
then where is your mother?
Why have you forsaken me for so long,
for I am your mother, I am your mother.

Even before the dawn of mankind,
we stood by each-other.
Like angels and demons,
Verily like heaven and hell.

Light gives me strength,
and he takes mine.
Our love story is all about,
believing in one another.

Turn back, my son
and shed some light on your thoughts.
Half of you is made up of light,
and the other half is the deep reflection of me.

Still we converse as absolute equals,
so, hurry not to separate,
the just from the unjust.
And the good from the wicked.

As long as life on Earth dances with day and night,
my beloved and I, walk side by side.
Who are you to tear us apart?
Who are you to question myself ?

Oh dear son, it is better to light a candle,
than blame darkness.
It is always better to light a candle,
than blame your mother!


Thank you so much for this lovely recognition. I really appreciate the work that you guys do, and gladly accept the award. (Anthony)

A life soaked in colors

images (3)

Dreams of painting life with a thousand colors
Crashed to the ground like a bird with burned wings
While looking at my images I brushed with true colors
Seems funny, and unworthy for others.

Art of this world is what I have forgotten to learn
To make portraits in a single-minded mould
Where a palette comprises seldom choices
And colors are often mixed with tears.

Now my hands are tired to brush the dusk of my life
My bright-colored portrait seems red, and smells blood
As a painter at heart, all I know is to paint
And the only color which left to paint is my blood.

Perfect Poet Award Week 53


Thank you so much for this lovely diamond. I really appreciate the work that you guys do, and gladly accept the award. (Anthony)


images (2)

Beheaded flower in the hands of an imaginary child
Plucked away from the umbilicus of life
Now the bond has broken,
And the dream has torn apart.

Since then, there were no beds of flower
Except clusters of pain and sufferings
You looked at the stars in cold and desperation
Forced to face the sun in shame and humiliation

A silent song echoed in the dry wind
Hands of an amateur gardener penetrated dry earth
Let the rain come and wash away
Wash away the pain and suffering of yesteryears

No matter whether you are a weed or a seed
Keep the fight on until the weather is fine
The deeper you root that tender you flower
You and I are the rings in a chain, the chains in the divine ritual of life

So keep the hopes of bearing flowers someday
When justice dies, blossom into a thousand flowers
And spread the fragrance of hope for grieving
There you change this place to a land of wonders.


Perfect poet award (Week 50)

The perfect poet award (Week 50)

Thanks a ton to the Poetry Palace for this award – Anthony.

Man in the mirror

images (1)

When expressions reflected in the mirror
Life refracted through my past
I danced with you like an innocent child
Sometimes I acted before you like a superstar
You have painted my moods
And endured my true colors
Whether it is hot or cold
Mirror does its job
Mirror is a true friend of man
And I am the man in the mirror

Fishy fish


You are a big fish swims in a fast lane
Swimming in desperation to build reputation
But you live in a small pond covered by a fishing-line
Somebody Teach us
Teach us how to swim backwards to the world of calm waters
Teach us everything that we have forgotten to learn.
Deep inside we are all fish
Big fish out of water.



I looked around and closed my eyes.
I walked around you left me out.
I tried to nap and need a gap.
Cause all I see
All I hear, all I feel is you.


Rescue me I am all alone here,
Set me free I need to see the world.
Help me to break this four colored walls of my room.
I walked many roads; but every road leads me back home.
Now I wanted to go home,
But not this planet we call home.

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