With Thanks

Neither the men nor the women

Ever said a “Thank you”

To some important things in life.

They run helter-skelter to meet their targets

But forget to thank their shoes

Weary; bearing their feet smelly.

Neither men nor women pause

To smile, once they finish their lunch

At the water jug that had quenched their thirst.

Few ever had waited to check

If the chairs they were seated on

Are left arranged neatly, waved them good bye.

Yet, how can anyone ignore the trash bin

Which always kept their secrets as secrets?

They hardly thank the city lights

That made the night shine bright

There is way more to go, but often stopped

At the traffic light turned red.

Move again with expectations

Remember them as you reach home safe.

Published in Rhyvers Beat e-zine nov2022


Poem by Sherin Mary Zacharia on the picture prompt given by poet Dr.Santosh Bakaya madam


Waiting is a game endless

Watching never boils the pot

Will it? or will it not?

Result still unknown.

Eyes betray, searching unmindful

For the truth that mind wants in real

Most probably it will happen, it may; may not.

The chances are high, looking ahead.

Eyes forget atleast once to blink

Only the limitless clear blue sky above

Below the ground and all the dust

Gathered over the many years.

Like wooden dolls we stand, hearts frozen

Wearing emotions unchanging sans hope.

Do we see a dot growing big, bigger

On the horizon turning rusty, slowly.

One or two stars unable to wait for the moon

Peep out at our colours merge into fading light.

In the twilight the visitor comes nearer

A messenger from Godot

the next day again is to wait and watch.

May be an image of outdoors


Nude thoughts, firey eyes

Madness shivers down the spine

Rush to benumb her mind

What really matters…

The poem published in the website of The Art Of Autism’ as part of their Peace Project, in September 2022

True writers and artists

Are they who always knew

What man needs to ask each other.

Man needs to query,

Change many things

In the lives

In and around him.

Man should know the answers

To these questions alone

The rest doesn’t matter really.

Many bear worries in their hearts

About the day’s meal

Why bother about his skin colour?

Get him a sandwich

Distressed is the man

Who lives near the sea shore

Climate change has made the day’s catch smaller

Why bother about his religion?

Buy him a coffee.

Tired is the old woman

Selling snacks by the wayside.

She cares her retarded girl

Why bother about her caste?

Buy some samosas* from her.

A woman who cries everyday

Behind her dupatta*

Her son was in the school

That had blown up.

Why bother about her mother tongue?

Tears have no language

Hug her once; be kind.

May be the world is too large

May be the people are all different

Why bother?

Nothing matters more

Than love and hope

World needs these

To be peaceful

Now and forever.

Dreams are necessary

Dreams are necessary


                                                                             SHERIN MARY ZACHARIA

Paying a great deal for the resentment

To slumber, need to keep one’s eyes closed

Rolling left and right on a bed of tender feathers

Neither warm milk nor melody of flute could invite sleep.

Some texts define a ruler as a murderer

The warriors whose heads he cuts counts

Trail of an emperor’s throne is laid in red

Wailing cities are but sounding his triumph

 Conquests; the only way to acquire someone’s dream

Crush it in tight fists, trample it beneath the feet

No war ever makes a hero

Raging fires leave only thick smoke

Dreams, desires much aspirations

Turn ashes in them, never known

They lived in Kiev, Kalinga, everywhere

Dreamt the happy faces of children

Wished their gardens would bloom

Pink and yellow each year; in full.

The tanks were rough on the snowy lawns

Leaving a grieving  waste  land.
Burning wind  echoes the wails;
marching armies over  dead promises
The  emperor neither slept any night
Nor had any sweet dreams ever
The border hosted talks  once  more 
The emissary’s horse flew eastwards

The gains  futile, fails mankind when
Decisions  decide to  destroy  peace
Into his heart remorse  speared  deep
A smile  returned  on the glorious  visage

Fading the need to be served 
But to serve is the need! got inscribed
Hostile plans all recalled
Brotherhood now reinstated
A real hero is born
No one can snatch  a dream 
Yet to take on its wings and glide free
Against the rudeness  of ideas

Which are never of one’s choice or wish

Ecstatic and secret dance of the mind
When peace holds its hand amidst a festive crowd
A waning moon, of greed

Comfort of sleep
Leaves the emperor dreaming
The good  days of the world

The baby slept in the cradle
Her mother’s  arm awake,  rocking
The camp was not  of silent losers
Dreams waited to enter  her star like eyes
Flying angels, colours and  flowers
Her mother shudders  as if a missile  dazed past them
Nightmares won’t  give  way for  white doves so soon
The milky smile but assured
A dream of hope and love
For the  times spent in desperation

War is not necessary
But dreams are;
They simply float in
Need no permission
Just some space for hearts to hold  together.

published in the Yercaud poetry festival 2022 by Soul Scribers Society Salem


Hanna and Montana now swim

Small, red but with silver rim

Made to keep minds without storm

Glass jar with a green is their new home.

Water in my pond ripples with their tails

No cat wants catching the guppies fail

You are free and see the birds up in the sky

A floating world, though you never will fly.

No water ever remains the same

Fish came fish went always tame

Swimming with many merry bubbles

Ornaments for evenings to forget troubles.

Much in holy texts about fish

They now have a desperate wish

Enough of the microplastics in their gills

Man and animal sure it will kill.

Fish not in the sky, not watching what goes below

Not on earth fighting for those many honours hollow

Make its eyes see only the secret swim of the jellyfish

Let its ears echo gentle waves that hit the shore and splash.

Photographs Sanju Mathew Joseph Dhanush Jacob Joshua Shreya Susan Zacharia

May be an image of indoor


Mirror knows more than what you think

It has seen the inside of your heart

Cloudy, dark often grey,

Watched your cheeks grow red

Known your eyes fill

Listened to your hushed sobs

Counted your lips quiver ,

The mirror knows it all

The mirror knows it well, perfectly.

Mirror sure will return your smile

Share the dreams that float in your eyes

Nod for the secrets that make you overjoyed,

Needs no moon of the heavens

To illuminate the mirror,

Mirror just wants you to tell such stories

That leave your eyes glistening,

Mirror listens , silent

Knows it is a lie.

But mirror smiles assuring you its faithful company,

You trust the mirror

Love the mirror,

You hate the mirror

Hit the mirror.

Mirror is you who knows you

Mirror is the pretty you, ugly you

Mirror is the smart you, broken you,

Mirror but never keeps anything in its heart,

Eyes Speak

Lips meet each other

Kiss, say goodnight

Eyes know they will speak no more

Definitely not now

Timid, red, soft

Quivering with fear,

Every word echoes

Uttered, looking at the other

As a lesser mortal.

Eyes spew red hot embers

No matter how the lips feel

The soul lets out a cry

Not blanketed in silence

Much pain it endures

Before the eyes shed tears.

Eyes make a compassionate resolve

To ignite the change setting ablaze

Remains of indifference

To those living under leafless trees

Braving the Sun that melts all valour

Lips mute themselves

Words sometimes meaningless

Useless, disagreeing, fake

Eyes shut tight

Not to see, nothing more to speak

Not to utter a syllable

As innocent blood spills on the face.

published in EKL Review e-magazine August 2022 issue



We Indians

Born in the richest of cultures

Owe our learning to the world ‘s

Enchanted treasures we hold

Our stories and songs, mountains, rivers

We Indians

Search, find the doors that face

The blue sky of peace

Safeguard it and let the Sun of wisdom

Seep bright through it on the world

We Indians

Move ahead, work hard, celebrate

Meditate on the great dreams to realize

We hurry to rise, even if we fall

We may stumble, yet progress with fortitude

We Indians

Many lives sacrificed for the nation

Motherland our soul, our breath

We need each other, hold our hearts together

Our diversity is our unity!

We Indians

Have much to provide the world

Great teachers, strong ideals

That lead the millions in all times

Women emerge, the power of the house

India is built strong

With the common man’s love

For his land dear

His toil, his wishes

For the soil his forefathers served

He struggles to make it a paradise

For generations now and next,

India is every heart beat of-

We Indians

Alert and thriving

We Proud Indians

March the path forward.


Sherin Mary Zacharia


Behind every wall you will find a scene

Of hardwork,sweat and blemished fingers

Trying to keep some dreams alive, ablaze

Snapshots of happiness, anger, excitement and pain

Hang themselves onto the wall

In vivid coloured frames, mirroring

Those days when everyone had lived

like everyone else.

Walls had heard numerous stories

Of success, deceit, worries about lost chances

Morning sunshine illustrating these

Walls kept many secrets, painted in dust

Plastered dreams bursted out through cracks

Memories as patches, green

New coloured spots carved in by time

Lines then new chapters

Etched with moss in faded grey crevices.

Every wall is an epic

Written over generations; unaware

Of the stories each brick longed to tell

Until they lay broken, crushed

Making room for a new wall

A wall for a new room to make new stories.

Voices of the wild

Trees around the water holes

Wild winds blow free

Carrying a roar, sometimes

a trumpet to the mountains.

Flutter of wings race with the

unruly grunts from among the green grass.

Bamboo groves lost

In creating a symphony

Pairs of colours dancing in rhythm

Butterflies in sunshine.

Cicadas never silent, the dampness

of the rain forest itch their throat.

Water falls in deafening decibels

Million droplets blanket the space.

Dear calls and a langur replies

from a tree top; a striped prowl is on

Doe eyes twitch, leap dart and the

herd flies over the meadow.

The voices of the forest turn into a music

Inviting the valley below.

They come, clear their way

Dry every dampness, machines growl

Rivers shrink in fear

New voices shiver the valley

Earth trembles, towers rise to sky

Voices reply from the mountain

Flooding rivers gush, slopes slide in mud

Crashing hills bid goodbye to the valley

Its voice is now a cry.

This poem was published in Brahmand environmental e-magazine in July 2022