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Pramod Mathew


Thrissur, Kerala, India

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Pramod Mathew

dear to the sight
dearer still, when sight is denied.

Sweet daughter, unborn;
remain so.
Till time ,giver of maturity
cleanses the poisoned blood
that through my veins flow.

pleasing to the sight;
your sight I seek
e'en with my shutting eyes.

Freedom from bondage


Pramod Mathew

How beautiful is the freedom,
that bears witness
to the utterance of a soul
long supressed.

Like the rain
that cooled the desert;
like the bird, that escaped,
from between the iron.

How fresh is the air, breathed;
after long years of captivity.
How invigorating is the elation,
after freedom from tyranny.

Like the calm,
that succeeds the storm;
like the breeze
that soothed the land

And for this hope,
my heart still sings
and even this winter
seems like spring.



Pramod Mathew

The dwindling rays
of setting sun;
The maulavi's final call
for the day;
And then the night
shall set in.

Yet another December,
yet another chilly winter.
The mist,makes the woods
as vague as my mind's
image for the morrow.

The touch, I failed to woo
The kiss , I could not earn
The words, I did not utter...

Emerging with the effervescence
of this , poisoned wine.

Let the heart bleed then
and the clouds weep to death
from the depths ,
of our sorrow.

Of Love and Hate


Pramod Mathew

Your kisses,
I mistook their warmth.
Indeed it was fire;
Now vapourising my soul
From the depths of guilt.

Your pride in me
Has faded;
I'm no longer a victor.

What was it you loved?
Me, or the glory
I brought you.



Pramod Mathew

Poetry, oh poetry
more decieving, than
the dictates of alchemy
or the torturing silence
of solitude.

Greater tranquiliser
than wine,
an addiction;
an obsession...

Thy embrace
all engulfing.
Enjoyed the warmth
a moment,
chocked the next.

Set me free...
Set me free...
or strangle to death
and save the pain.

The Plight Ahead


Pramod Mathew

The outbreak of dawn
brings elation no more;
The chirping of birds
ain't music any long.

The flowers seem to have
lost their colour;
And trees dance no longer
to the whistling breeze.

The cry of the cattle, echoes of hunger
As parched lands for the monsoon yearn.

The dragonflies
have yet to arrive;
And seasonal birds
sing of sorrow from afar.

The peahens await
their lover's dance;
As the poets
await the rain.

The silence of the night, evokes a fear;
The moon and stars,now ghostly entities.

I fear my niche
will loose it's sanctity;
A colorless world
lies ahead.

No music, no dance , no poetry
no lovers under shady trees.
Nor any intellect to be seen .

Life content
with mimicking machines.

The Girl Child


Pramod Mathew

Weary child, find rest
on thy mothers warm breasts.

Dream of fairies and
rivers of milk and honey,
while you can.

Wake not yet, dear child;
See not, the convulsive
sobs of your mother

A sparkle in her eye,
a tear perhaps.
Her severe woe
you won't comprehend.

It could be,
thoughts of her child.
The shadowy shade of your skin,
your bare neck and arms.

Ornaments to adorn you, she's to seek,
to woo, a befitting groom.

Or fears of your safety, it might be
amidst wolves voracious for flesh.

Sleep while you can
dear child, in peace.

When niether fear, nor
thoughts of the morrow,
haunt your dreams.

A little while,
all will pass.
Men shall set their eyes
with greed.
Your freedom curtailed.

Bretheren might steal
your share.
And for you ,the left overs
from a royal dinner.

Knowledge is light,they say;
your world could be dark.

Nature moulded man
the strong one, chauvanists say;
Yet laborious tasks
you must share,
the labour pains apart.

Dream dear child,
of fairies
and rivers of milk and honey
while you can.

A little while
and your dreams
will overflow with fear.

For You Alone


Pramod Mathew

For you alone, my heart shall implore
For you alone, shall it beat.

To you alone ,shall I bow down
and beckon
with arms outstretched.

For you alone, shall my mind
and all my inner beings

For you alone, are the light
the custodian of my heart
and the soul of all
I possess.

You alone are the sunlight in my universe
and with arms out stretched

I beckon...
I implore...
I beg...

"Be mine.. Be mine...Be mine..."

Voice From The Streets


Pramod Mathew

The fire spreads my love,
the streets set ablaze.

The spark's from a conscience
long suppressed.
Despite the rain and the
moisture of the season
it spreads.

The volcanoes,
The rumblings of the ocean floor,
The fire works and
The thronging music of yester years
Thrown into oblivion.

Do you not hear?
The volcano of their emotions erupting,
The waves of people protesting,
A spectacle indeed,
The might of their unity
A melody so sweet , unheard
The unison of their chantings.

The gardens of spring, they seek;
lets hope it blooms.

A world so dense to see our plight,
from amongst the flowers
we'll find a shelter too.

Untimely Rain


Pramod Mathew

Untimely Rain,
Brute and melancholy.

You took away my last rose.
My toil and love lies futile.

The flower I'd equalled
to my heart;
The hope that it would
gift me her smile.
Rotting...Rotting to primordial dust.

The music that I,
for the flower played each dawn.
And the love notes I exchanged.
Into the fluid air
has dissolved for ever.

The bud that took birth
one misty morn.
The hopes of love,

The jasmines I reared beside;
to extinguish it's solitude.
It would've adorned her hair
I imagined
and even in death accompany my rose.

Even the bee
in solemn respect; encircles,
as the jasmines droop low
to kiss, the damp earth.

With what then,dear one;
shall I bid thee farewell?

For the rain,
with the Rose has
torn apart, my heart.



Pramod Mathew

Not to him who doned himself
in spotless white;
Nor to him who renounced the world
for moksha.

Not to him, who preached suffering
and submission, in lieau
for heaven's treasures.

But to him, who lifted the sword;
the one who gathered the hungry mass,
the toilers; and the underdogs.

He who enlightened us,
of a heaven on earth;
and vowed to cease oppression.

To him alone shall I bow;
before him alone, my knees bend;
and my soul submit.

The Spirit Of Freedom


Pramod Mathew

Breaking the silence of the night,
ending the stilness, of the time
there echoed a young voice

"Awake my brethren, countrymen,"
the lad went on,
"awake to freedom and to joy.
Arise all ye sleeping masses,
don't you know?

A nation is born"

His rags were tattered
His skin exposed,
His countenance seemed weary
with hunger and thirst.

Yet he felt proud ;as he
went on chanting,"Freedom...Freedom..."

A gunshot rang.
From where? Nobody knows;
and the chanting became
a cry in vain,
as the bullet, cruelly,
pierced his flesh.

Yet he held his flag abreast
and would not let it fall.
And even as his life left him
the wind and the moon echoed his song,

"Freedom... Freedom..."

The Vocalist


Pramod Mathew

Your melody has lit the lamp
child of the gandharva;

though only a firefly
amidst the engulfing gloom.

That reserved for the gods
Now before this meek mortal.

What more am I than a vagabond
That this music yearned to hear.

Alas! How momentary,
It fades to nothingness

And life returns
to monotonous torment.

The descent to none


Pramod Mathew

The two of us here
to lie together.

Yet solitude pervades
all else.

Neither a star
Nor the pleasing full moon.

None for a companion,
Save thee.

The flames of her memories
keep us warm.

The dearth of fair dreams
wards off the sleep.

From the descent from two to one,
There hell lies.

Between one and none,
There death lies.

Fade off sweet shadow
with your shade of death.

And may I descend, to none;
solitude unadulterated.

Where even death



Pramod Mathew

When dark clouds
pregnant with tears
hover over our skies.
When the breeze
metamorphoses to a storm
and pigeons hide in exile.
When the rain arrives melancholy
and then in rage
threatens a flood.
Iíll presume
youíre an other manís bride.
A richer oneís_
Your morrows secure
and your material wants content.

with the image of you
beside your groom
suppressing a tear.
My broken lute Iíll play
till the music melts
my heart away.



Pramod Mathew

The hibiscus in my lawn
that greeted me each morn,
painted my life RED
without me knowing.

Many years hence
at the dissection table,
some lone corner of the heart

Only you


Pramod Mathew

Whence I shut my eyes
and cuddle in the warmth
of thy embrace.
I feel my world revolve
in the gravity of your strength.
Neither can I fly off
nor draw myself into thee.

The Shame Of Living


Pramod Mathew

Even as the murderous heat
oozes rhe last drop
of poisoned blood
One hope alone lingers...
One mirage alone suffices...

Where are the gulmohars
wherein we carved our names
and what of the paddy fields
and mudpaths,
we surveyed?

The river ,like me
has shrunken,wrinkled
and awaits due time.
Sandunes in place
of the riverbed
where we like serpents
once mated.

Fairest flower
in eternal sleep
wake not...wake not...
The world is alien,inhospitable
and the shame of living
is death itself.