16 May

by S. Krishna Kumar



I heard a crash
Crash that pierced the air
Ripping the dead silence of the hour.
Darting into the dining room
I eyed a sorry spectacle
Of my little blind daughter
Standing near the dining table sobbing
For the glass of water she touched
For the noise she made
Breaking the glass into thousand shards
Water all over the floor
Tears all over her face.
Crash that rent the silence
Cry that rent my heart.




You’re a child of a hasty delivery
By a stony automaton a mother
Who put you to the waste
With an equal haste that she delivered you.
You had your mother’s life in you
As she had yours in hers;
You were sent to represent that life
As your mother doubtless believed you’d do.
She knew not you were destined to land in hazard
To grope like a blind beggar in alien streets
In search of the actually intended
Accursed be the malignant who delivered the fake address!
Fearing you’d spoil her name
Should you approach her doorstep,
Your mother became a murderer
And tore you to pieces near the trash.
You weren’t followed by another child
Lest he too should follow you to the same
Why to bear someone
If he is to be burdensome?



Echoing footsteps amid fallen dusty leaves
With an endless noise of creak and squeak
Breathing life into the deserted corners
Site pitch dark, a temple of footless eidolons.
Wind’s howl reeks of a ghost’s breath
Freezing Damp soaks the scanty fire
Being visibly absent, something nails its
Mighty presence into one’s vulnerable veins.
He’s afraid of his own shadow
Which is his past that continues him from behind
Always there aback, haunting him to the grave
He isn’t able to eye it vis-a-vis.
Letters of dark tales can’t be read
When they’re written all in black blood
The shadow at his heels can’t be spotted
As there’s no light to distinguish it.
The walker waves his hands so frantically
As to touch what lay ahead
But nothing tangible sits in his finger web
Sheer dark outsounds the rattle of his heart.


S. Krishna Kumar lives in Salem, Tamil Nadu.  He succumbed to vision impairment in 2003 at the age of ten due to Stephen Johnson’s Syndrome, a disease triggered by the prescription of wrong medicine. Krishna graduated B.A. English Literature from Loyola College, Chennai.  His chief interests are reading books, writing poems etc.


2 Responses to “Poems”

  1. R.S. Kishor Ram May 18, 2014 at 1:23 AM #

    The first poem “Crush and Cry” is awsome and emotive Krishna.

  2. R.S. Kishor Ram May 18, 2014 at 1:32 AM #

    Three poems are super. I feel the first one “Crash and Cry” is very emotive and awsome Krishna.

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