In love

My love was a traveler,

with many destinations,

until I met you.

Paths can blur, as long as,

you hold my hand.

You have given me,

sleepless nights and moody days.

I want to get wet in rain

and hide in your dimple.

My heart has become a small sparrow,

pecking on your window.

I know I am in love because,

I am happy to be sad for you.

പേടി

ഈശ്വരാ...

 എനിക്കു പേടിയാകുന്നു.
ഉള്ളില്‍ ഒരു കവിത,
 ശ്വാസം മുട്ടി മരിക്കുന്നു.
ചത്തു മലച്ച സ്വപ്നങ്ങള്‍,
 തലച്ചോറില്‍ പൊങ്ങികിടക്കുന്നു.
നടാത്ത മരങ്ങളിലെ പൂക്കാത്ത പൂക്കളില്‍
തട്ടി എന്റെ കാലിടറുന്നു.
ഓരോ ഇലയും തന്നതു,
 തണല്‍ അല്ല, മദ്ധ്യാന സൂര്യന്‍.
അവയുയര്‍ത്തേണ്ട വായു കട്ടതിന്
ഞാന്‍ ഉത്തരം പറയേണ്ടിയിരിക്കുന്നു.

Reason

Out of the respect to all past poets,
and as an inspiration to all future poets,
I stopped writing poems long ago.
Now I write curses in fragments.

Writer's block

Every person is born
with a writer's block.
Lucky ones overcome it
and live with free fingers.
Most can't and die
with poems strangled 
in their fingertips. 
yes... my fingers are 
cemeteries and death beds.
I told them I hate labels.
and they called me a rebel.

Funeral

Last night, I saw a dream.
I was at a funeral.
Tombstone read;
   Tia's poem
   Born-1987
   Died-when she grew up
Everyone was appreciating
me, for being mature at last.

Biography

I sang a song in a new tune
Killed a tomato and fed
the whole world.
I drowned a river
and died in the womb

My lost pencil

I searched my pencil
whole day long.
Couldnt find it so
cried more strong.
At last i found it
in 'her' pink box.
So i stopped crying
and went to play.