That was the first beautiful rain in my life. I saw her in the drizzling rain. My heart pounded within my wet clothes. She never came again; Except the rain that comes regularly.
That was the last beautiful rain in my life, When I was wet in a heavy rain, after she left. I stood alone that day under a banana leaf.
I felt the love in every drop of monsoon, The huge rocks looked like magma, The tiny drops looked like a melted metal. But, that place is now ready to harvest my wild dreams.
After that, every rain gives me pain… The pain of first love, The pain of separation, The pain of loneliness, The pain of poetry… Yes, rain is the tears of the sky when earth feels pain.
Do you know from where does the rain come? From the beginning of melting love? Or from the end of frosting love? Never It comes from the mountain, And lashes to the valleys of heart, Through the window panel.
For the sake of an umbrella, Or the river, The paddy field, The bitterling fish, Or else waiting for the rain.
Information Assistant, Press Information Bureau, Trivandrum, Kerala. Born on November 14, 1982 to Shri. Gopalan and Smt. Karthyayini in Pookkottoor, in Malappuram District. Received BSc in Physics from Calicut University. Earned Masters in Journalism & Mass Communication from Saafi Institute of Advanced Studies. Published a book ‘Mazhakkallu’ a collection of Malayalam poems in 2013 April 6. Was sub- editor in Desahabhimani and worked in all prominent units in Kerala viz. Cochin, Thrissur and Malappuram.
Behind your face was cleaver releasing past poem. The sensual milk flows from the palm into your lake. Grieving for the torn wings of pink light. Cruising on thighs with eyes closed death utters a shriek. The eternal flame closes
I lay in bed Listening to the hammering rain Pit pat pit pat Beating on the window pane I gaze at these racing drops Hitting a different note each fall Spreading the fragrance in the air Of their rendezvous with
I awake to the gloom of a cloud covered sky, There’s a dampness that floats with the air. A stillness and peace has enveloped my world, And I don’t see a soul anywhere. You can already smell the rain on
Breeze rippling sheer embroidered patches as sunlight streaming shadows prance across plastered walls… As precipitation mist cool Floridian rays beaming tin roofs. Winter temps once again; no show. pre-Black Power, post-slavery; steel railroad tracks line wooded villages alluring Negro Parramore
Instant in second thought would we peer morely impoverished flame would we adhere lonely would we let love persevere or love in lost love in those disappear into a pleasance our one love so near an impoverished flame of our heart so sincere pleasance from love we once sought in