The Ethereal Awakening

From perhaps the most abysmal dream

to the conscious world I awoke.
I lay confused by this bizarre realm;
a thousand ethereal voices spoke!

“Where am I?” I asked. “How’d I get here?”
It slowly sunk in, as the truth did burn.
And, I was overwhelmed, by Doubt and Fear.

“Why am I here?” I pleaded. “Let me return!”

Do not fear! Said one. Your fever just ended.
You were in a venomous trance, another said.
but despite the fall, you’ve finally ascended.

I was now convinced: I’d lost my head!

You wandered an abyss, said a third, we could do naught
to help, until you’d recognized the surreal.
Thus, were you lost; your identity you forgot.

Then, your consciousness broke the vicious seal!

Philosophy aside, I realized they were right.

“My life was a dream? What’s left for me now?”

The nightmare you lived was dissolved by light.
A more inspired dream you must allow.

Before me appeared a book, with several pages blank.

Whatever you write shall manifest.
It was always yours, but you sank.
You ‘author’ Life; write only your best!

We now send you back into the dream,
but armed with words for the wise.
Thus, write away, and define your own realm.

This time, I vowed not to jeopardize!

The voices faded, but ere I fell back into trance
I was curious to know what the pages said.
And I was astonished at the very first glance!

The Equilibrium of Life‘, the title read.

~Pramodh Iyer

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Vampire Slayer

I once had two vampires, very near
– one was Doubt, and another, Fear.
While I often dined with them,
they laid to waste, my sacred realm.
Doubt lied; by Fear was I betrayed.
In company such, from myself I strayed.

And, once I was left with naught,
they abandoned me in a cell to rot.
All I stood for was set to flames.
My kingdom burned for Vampire games!
But, I did not crumble; instead I arose.
Chapters begin when the old ones close!

I’d chosen friends poorly, indeed.
Now, I’d awoken; my kingdom was in need.
I let go of all bonds that chained me.
When I realized myself, I was free.
Out of the dark chambers, I bravely strode.
Not a single moment to sulk, could I afford.

I rode back to the capital; I took my stand.
I banished Doubt and Fear from my land!

~Pramodh Iyer

A Creative Block

They told me that a picture would
be worth a thousand a word.
I thought I’d draw one, if I could
instead of writing like the herd.

I drew the Son of God, and I knew
that I’d nailed him on the cross.
One thing about this was true
I drew worse than what ever was.

Then, erotica I attempted to draw
and I defiled all of the sacred art.
I broke every single artistic law.
Disproportionate was every part.

I tried again, which was worse.
I didn’t get how I’d ever do it right.
I gave up, muttering every curse.
Van Gogh wouldn’t see my plight.

I didn’t know where I could begin.
I didn’t want to do worse than this.
Every attempt is a desperate sin.
Perhaps, giving up would be bliss?

I can’t seem to put strokes together.
Am I doomed to be art blind forever?

~Pramodh Iyer

Of Chickens Crossing Roads

Why did the Chicken cross the road?
Was it the only trip he could afford?
Was he in denial of Universal Laws,
which forbid to cross without cause?

What if a black Cat crosses your path?
If you were smart, you’d do the math.
The Cat would then chase the Chicken.
You’d stop to watch, there and then!

You’d be so absorbed by this scene,
to forget you were on Street Thirteen!
Stepping back, you’d pass beneath a ladder,
and drop a mirror, to make you sadder.

Now, you’d turn back to see the Cat gone,
and the Chicken would’ve finally moved on!

~Pramodh Iyer

Worth a Thousand Words?

Some thoughts aren’t a penny’s worth.
Yet, they so often come forth!
I write them down, without a frown,
to give a poem a little crown.

As I live today, I choose my way,
to often measure what I say.
For that which I utter, if I stutter,
could tilt my worth down the gutter!

If Pen is indeed mightier than Blade,
could in Poet’s heart, Warrior be made?
Patronizing words claim actions speak louder.
Must we write, or turn to gun-powder?

If a picture is worth a thousand words,
could one paint the melody of the birds?
I’m a dreamer; some laugh at me.
Sculptor of tomorrow, only a dreamer can be.

Only a dreamer can be…

~Pramodh Iyer

The Phoenix

1.

When darkness consumes his way,
a hero would rise to face the day!

Reborn is the Bird of Fire!
Alive is his burning desire.
Inspiration is his very song,
whose resolve is ever strong.

“After every fall, I shall return
to rise again, to fly or burn!
Watch me soar with metal wings,
face every gust the storm brings!”

From the ashes of the past,
deep within the shadows cast
is a flame which never dies;
for the Phoenix shall now rise!

~Pramodh Iyer