Three Poems by Ramachandran MA

To My Poor Father

By Ramachandran MA

eleven years have gone--

it rained a little

after your burial

and we all drank tea--

your fingers in the pyre

were the same

the night you died--

nothing happened

it was December

the first week

sometimes I boarded

a crowded bus

got off somewhere

in the crowded street

dreamed of walking

with someone to the sea

but always returned

all alone to this room

#Fragment

Why did I miss

the songbird

that built her nest

in the old mango tree

in my childhood?

I missed the tree

in those summers

and rains too---

In my dream

still a green leaf

in the old tree.

All the names

and faces and

even the river

of these years

in the torn paper

are blown away

by the wind.

#Fragment

One more night

miles and miles away

was the yellow flower

in my dream

On my way to nowhere

a dead butterfly

a cold wind

passed by the lantern

and I asked myself

why I was born

Bio : Ramachandran MA is an author from India. He lives in Calicut.

Photo courtsey: rightfully owner

James Colemen