Poems written by Jay Krishnan

Jay Krishnan

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Always wide eyed with wonder, prone to reveries and restless with an inexplicable yearning to create ever since he was a little boy, Jay wrote his first poem when he was six. He discovered the ore of his creative endeavors in the writings of his sister from which everything else originated, in attics filled with vanilla smelling old books, in savoring the classics and in intricate poems of Wordsworth and William Blake inlaid with rhyme…. His poems have snuck under editorial radars and appeared in global anthologies, magazines, newspapers and online journals. He also runs an idea shop called the Centre of Gravity, draws cartoons, directs animated short films and conceptualizes communication campaigns. All of which originate from the same artery of poetic longing that destiny charmed into his soul.

Toy Soldier

Toy Soldier short poem

If I were a toy solider, I would sail, A child’s paper boat of reveries, When the afternoon was a languorous snail, And the scent of sleep slept upon trees. I would be the smile that played on his eyes,

Spring’s child

Spring’s child short poem

A child who was more of the trees, Than of any man I knew, Whose laughter tinkled in the breeze, And mingled in the dew. Oft In the speckled summer shade, Pleasant dark and divine, In the beauteous forest glade,

To The Solitary Stranger

To The Solitary Stranger long poem

Part I Has the spring of poetry faded away? In a deluge of falling leaves, When the shadows and lights are at play, Like transient doubts and beliefs. Have words become faceless apparitions, Gazing into the boundless night, At ancient

Ode To The Cat

Ode To The Cat ode

He lay asleep, a contemplative air, On the window ledge, in the warm morning sun. Seeming so beyond the reach of a care, And I believed all his worldly duties done. The world courtesies as it passes him by, As

You Are…

You Are... short poem

In the turbid brooding skies, And restive trees beneath, In the innards of my eyes, And in those shadows fleet, you are. In the scented mountain breeze, And the trembling blades of grass, Where the mist clad mountains coalesce, And

Today Is Not Today

Today Is Not Today short poem

The same rhythm of a million years, Today is not today. The same rituals of splintering spheres, All acts of the same play. The same longing that filled The first vagrant lone poet. That grew and dreamt and then distilled,

Monsoon Winds

Monsoon Winds short poem

Sprightly, oh! sprightly, the monsoon winds come, With promises of relief. Lightly, oh! lightly, the monsoon winds hum, The ordeal of belief. Hark me, oh! hark me, the monsoon winds roar, Sizzling to strike the earth. Darkly, oh! darkly, the

Tick Tock Song

Tick Tock Song long poem

The coffee shops spill over with uninspired espressos, The jukebox shudders over in ebbs and flows, The conversation is just a din that adds up and grows, The footfalls are stampeding all over the floors. There is a voice singing

The Song Bird

The Song Bird short poem

The little songbird sits silent, Lost in the thoughts of sweet spring. The last dregs of his warmth are spent, As the final birds take wing. The old gnarled tree cried to the bird “Fly away dear feathered friend, The

Enigma

Enigma short poem

The last signs of man’s existence, Are a full forty miles away. The flowers blooming in nascence, Are scattered all along my way. The last thing from out yonder, Is this serpentine stream beside, Leaving me and I to ponder,

Wait For The Call

Wait For The Call short poem

Don’t let you heart become a paper boat sailing Towards childhood, Towards the harbour of its never returning fragrances. Don’t float towards its crescent moons if you could, Or the enchanting crooning of its past tenses. Don’t become an interpreter

He is flowering

He is flowering short poem

His sadness is flowering into something so beautiful, Those who utter its name will burst into an ecstasy of butterflies, His emptiness is ripening into a fruit that is so full, Those who touch it will arrive beyond the gate

To The Faceless Farmer

To The Faceless Farmer short poem

The hopes of a harvest seem distant, Beneath yonder scalding sun. Oh destinies are you penitent, For all that you have done. The money- lenders scream beyond the din, Of your crying starved children. Dreams in your eyes and a

Delirium

Delirium short poem

Over the sands seagulls screech and call, Where the blue waters gleam, The battering waves slap and fall, To break a pebbles dream. The vast wet shores do girdle hills, High steep and ancient, And the sunlight haltingly spills, The

Elegy In Architecture

Elegy In Architecture elegy

Like a picture postcard from a city, A city frozen in another time. Living its own distorted reality, On the mantel piece of the sky line. The old building – a marooned ark, Amidst that ocean of newness. Currents that

Ode To Winter

Ode To Winter ode

You are not a season but a presence, An imagined whisper in someone’s ear. And with your hollow footsteps of silence, Perhaps a traveler who is not here. A Phantom that haunts the city, That we inhabit while we are

Moments

Moments short poem

[Composed in a class room.] Have you felt what an alien face said? From a land not yours of this birth, And thus in a fleet moment beheld, The tiny dimensions of the earth. Have you seen the colors of

Memories

Memories short poem

My memories have become nomads, And they come back all at once. Like strangers from myriad surreal lands, Or a thousand prodigal sons. How far from home, we have strayed mother! From that sunny dreaming hearth, So my memories seem

Twenty poems of light and longing

Twenty poems of light and longing poetry books

Poems are reveries that call you by name. Like all true loves they arrive in spite of who you are, at your doorstep. Nothing needs to be done except to stay with your longing. They are miracles of compassion; they