poems from the poetry chain


Mind may not heed

Wants no advice

On what it should think.

Some stupid thoughts

Some serious ones

That can make the usual life

Flow off course

Trying to meet the unusual.

Among leaves it searches for

Hidden mangoes ripe

Moonstones it tries to find

Amidst ordinary pebbles.


Mind makes a great discovery

And gets itself a prize- satisfaction.


Want not the green calf length pants

I had seen online at Libas

Nor do I want the ethnic print top

Among the displays in Fabindia shop.

My Christmas shopping list is short

Simple things but not the easily available sort

I seek some Christmas decoration

To hang on my tree before vacation

No twinkling stars and lights

No glittering streamers or bells

Only smilies round and thin

That will remind me to smile and grin!


Climate change will nearly kill us

But not before we humans kill each other

We cut down trees big and small

Mercilessly wiped off many species

Some bird songs will never again be heard

Colours of some pretty flowers GenZ will never see

Water becomes too costly a drink

Lucky ones get tokens at the oxygen kiosk

Man looks helpless at nature’s fury

No answers ; yet plans to save the last bee

But he has scores to settle and wars to wage

Bombs to shower, blood to spill for strange reasons

Like religion , ideologies and nonsense customs.

Burning a city is not great when the whole earth smoulders.


Memories cut deep wounds

In a heart longing to belong

Several years seeking emancipation

From the next second of uncertainty

Poetry waiting at the tip of my pen

To be with me, to give me gentle stroking

On my forehead, until I pour out my thoughts

With all my happiness and gloom sometimes.

Glittering bright, yet they are! straight from my heart!

Most of them spill on hard rocks

Instantly shattering into fine golden dust

I collect it in the cup of my palms

To store them safe in my dreams

And share with the world someday.

The Eternal Mahatma

The Eternal Mahatma (Gandhian Philosophy)

Sherin Mary Zacharia

published in Setu bilingual magazine in november 2023

The world seeks a fine thread

to string together, the diverse beads.

A unique story is there to lead

for his nation’s freedom it did plead.

Keeping his strategies to become a model

unprecedented, unheard of, a bloodless battle.

Qualities to lead- honesty, willpower and punctuality;

amidst them stood tall ‘AHIMSA’ against all brutality.

When the pain of the common man is alleviated,

and his young child’s hunger banished,

Gandhi’s vision for his motherland is realised,

that for ordinary men and women; fulfilled.

A life by itself a message for all times

across the globe and across all climes.

His voice is for the oppressed,

he stood for the deprived and the discriminated.

He liberated the people from an empire; with no weapons

The Mahatma’s life amazes, around the world, millions



Pink petals

Water hesitates to come in

fears the merciless sun will

soon turn her into vapour.

Breeze too busy to pause

spend some time here whirling

the island has little news to share.

Pain filled the pink bright flower

the lonely blossom on the lonely island.

Shrubs invited no birds or bees

Thorns kept off the singing cicadas.

Butterflies painted themselves in other skies

The pink flower left unknown.

The lonely island longed for a footfall,

flapping of wings and scurry of paws.

Ripples touched the shores gently

moved back unsure, quickly.

Moonlight caressed the water bright

rocked it back and forth to sleep tight.

The lonely island cold, slept blanketed

in its own shadow dark, like a heart-

unwilling to trust, unable to feel.

Thunder clapped, lightning drew bright lines

across the sky that could no longer withhold

the agony of witnessing every day,

the loneliness of the flower, the pink flower.

Water gushed along,

pouring rain incessant resolute.

floating the pink petals to distant shores

a poem etched on each petal, deep;

in the language of the lonely mind

of the wild flower, the pink flower

waves read them again with pleasure

water drops wrapped themselves in the verses

with pride.

Nominated for Pushcart prize 2023


Spreading through the soil

towards their destination

they wait for that moment.

Now is that time!

To engage in selfless toil.

Creeping in one by one

into the monumental structure

it is now their dinner!

Nobody saw them get in

No one had watched their work booming

Nobody had any idea of their plans.

Web of disease engulfing body and mind

Guardians turning fickle leaving a culture eroded.

Wrongs not undone but stay to be the new rights.

Alarms not raised nor questions asked

as the edifice transforms into an anthill.

Can the aching heart anymore expect a revival?

Termites swarm on the remains

of pillars that had long held high

the wonders of wisdom and passion

once the world’s treasure chest

now stolen by trustees of era next.


Return to my shade

Oh my dear!

Quiet lies beneath it

a world.

Move away not!

Spend some more time

with me

This afternoon it is sweltering hot.

Road ahead is rough

Path you traversed was tough

Wait under my canopy green

A flowing river away can be seen

A swing on the branch

for the boy will be great!

He can have fun

and get home before it is late

I will not for long

stand here

As the mall comes

in the square near

Picture prompt given by poet Dr,Santhosh Bakaya



Probably the sky will be of

       a different colour,

the air lighter, not smelling corpses

the water clear, not tasting blood

the grass green still, not burnt brown.

Food served after prayers

 If those not silenced by explosions.

Cold nights under dark clouds

       hiding stars

splashing waves clearing the boats

salty water showing the way to freedom.

Freedom in a world free of fear.

No one loses her dreams to someone’s choice

life would have a reason to live.

Heart never would beat faster than you run –

 away from the sharp axes that follow

 to chop tender wings and get away with

 the grains collected when the sun was shining bright.

Life cycle of pebbles

Heights beckon the pebbles small, glossy

Can they roll back all the way up? ever?

They had left everything behind.

Once a big rock mighty, massive

View from the mountain

Was always unclear, hazy.

Usual, the desire to see the unseen

Taste the waters of rivers flowing fast

Soon, new ceases to exist; mummified, motionless

Like an old tree, flowers sparingly bloom

Nothing excites, only memories to long for.

Mere desperation does not move mountains

Not even pebbles; small, glossy

Good earth will hide them in her bosom

As heavy feet trod down upon them, hard

Dust covers them slowly

Slowly, slowly completely.