C.P. ABOOBACKERo

 C.P. ABOOBACKER belongs to Calicut in Kerala. His interests include writing, publishing poems, essays, and many more literary things. Latest writing is about Channels and Globalizations. He is a retired professor of history. Married with three girls. He has his own web site called- www.thanalonline.com. He can be contacted at cpaboobacker@gmail.com

The Old Earth

In the autumn Mountain forest sheds leaves
Remains of spring fly in hot winds
Watchers of forests empty their dens
Hunters’ footsteps go away

On the slopes of mountains
Gasps of chasing dogs
Die away to distances

Singular rain embraces the earth
Good looking Earth satiates
Monstrous desires hidden in caves

Continents and oceans
Deltas and islands
Rivers and lakes
Gorges and deserts
Embrace each other
Entwined and curled
Bring out the lust of earth.

This enchantress is unable to keep secrets
They flow as if in a blue film
Earth still feels sorrow in her lover
Squeezing breasts tight.

Himalayas and Aravali
Andes and Alps
Rockeys and Pyrenees
Mines snow and deodar
Gulgul* and Kanmada**
From the breasts of Earth

Then the autumn comes to an end
Soil assimilates everything

But man drills holes in the earth
In search of diamonds and petrol
Made of solar power
It’s human rapine

Sores and scabies
Contracted from illicit connections
Burst and flow

Still this old woman
Waits for her lovers .


• *Gulgul is a kind of stain emanating from a tree. It is a great medicine in Ayurveda
• **Kanmada is, what should I say, the juice of stones, even granites. It is of immense value, economically and medicinally

My House

In Solitude
She waits for me, my house.
When I am late
She glooms
On arrival
She blooms and sighs
As keys kiss locks
She opens her bosom

Cool floor and warm roof
Twirling curtains
Entrances to various parts of mind
Beds of love
Shawls of lust
Cradles of affection
Mirrors of insight
Grinders of obstinacy
Hangers of woefulness

It is bedroom
With an aura of love
Kitchen with an aura of sumptuous life
Labor room with an aura of fulfillment
Library with an aura of thirst
Toilet with an aura of redemption

It is the lawn
With an aura of play and laugh
The porch with an aura of momentum
And footpath
With an aura of past journeys

Shelves have books
Racks toys and medallions
Stairs handles of statues
And doors have dreams carved on

She floats me in heavenly silence
Loud with melodies of memories
She protects me from ethereal silence
Screeching songs of greed and filth

Windows shut themselves in stormy nights
And open in sunshine and moon
Walls creep on desires
Paintings whisper their secrets
Collages their pains
Photographs their exact moments.


Words

Words haunt me
Ghosts are pleased
To stand in words’ apparels
Beauty, ugliness,
All in their custody
Sometimes a weapon of warfare
Often not soothing
Mother weeps over in words
In youth and old age
My sweet one!
Oh! My hell of a one!
Oh! Father killer!
Libido has no place in them
Sufferings of the universal order
Not only in Rwanda or Somalia
Everywhere words kill others
Especially the most loved ones
So I keep mum.



Wind Poem

Unseen, but felt
Of calm and storms,
Warmth and cold
In the bosom and intestine
Loving and nauseating,
A wind from far-off lands.

A tele-screen widens
Far away in cold deserts
She lies wide as a sky,
Open as an ocean,
Deep as a sorrow,
Now only Italian volcanoes remain
Exploding histories
Of agonies and peace,
Love and hate,
Kindness and cruelty.

Flower falling in love with the bird
Opens wings to the eternal skies
To soar with the spouse
And fuse into ethereal happiness.
Skylarks did not meet the flower
Bards lost another saddest thought. .

She sits
Smiles loud at crickets
Strikes and falls
Howls and dawns
In the Palestinian skies
Species cohabit
Passions coexist.

An accident
I was in the wind
Rains were cold
I got her hot in bosom
Damp in tears
When rivers take her
And cool in death.

written on 28Th November 2005.