As light as a feather, as radiant as the sun
That laughter as symphonic as the dawn chorus
As sparkling as the stars, shimmery next to none
Those eyes as vibrant as hues of the universe
As true as the mind, as celestial as His abode
The heart sans fears and a facade
As fresh as the summer air, as rosy as a love note
The visage as angelic as a kiss from God
As unfettered as the wind, as blissful as oblivion
That slight touch as palpable as sprouted love
As sweet as honey, as unblemished as the Eden
The innocence as guileless as a dove

A desire to live like a bud in its prime
To blossom into a flower untouched by dust and time

© Sri.Mun


Solitary Souvenir

This poem is about how we tend to move forward, leaving behind our greener present. And waiting for the day when there will be only one piece of the present left, with all of its surroundings going barren.

Tall, taller than the sky
I stand high and dry
Roots of grandeur
My surroundings barren
Devoid of earthly luster
Delicious hope for the hunter

Necessary isolation, they say
Vagabond ship in the drought, I say
Darkest shadow of the Captain
Lone hoverer in the cabin
Ebbing remnants of the crew
Immersing silence into the blue

Last piece of the present
Rustiness omnipresent
Compassion gone astray
Callous frost and decay
Legacy filled with tears
After all, I’m a solitary souvenir


The Revolution

A young and beautiful, but wretched soul,

Dreamt in an enchanted world of her own

With enraptured stallions and unicorns

Far away from the brutal world so widely known

But little did she know the doom of her fantasy land is close

Long was the string of her heartfelt desires,

She wanted to gaze at the infinite stars,

And eagerly waited to whoosh to Mars,

Away from negativities and deep scars

But little did she know that she’d always be on the radar

Incessant lookouts for an escape,

Made her wearied, sick and frail,

It was then that the realisation kicked her brain

For what is she suffering so much pain?

For a world that is best at growing only wolf’s bane?

After a month of Sundays, time finally chipped in,

When she could take the world out for a spin,

To vanquish the conventionality like a fiery levin,

Now was the time to declare that she won’t take it on the chin

And little did the oblivious world know of its approaching ruin

Prepared to confront the imposed tyranny one-on-one,

She took it by surprise like a curve ball,

And then the insurgence began bold and tall,

“Why are women objectified as puppet dolls?

Why are taboos and constraints only for womenfolks?”

Appalled by her fearless defiance,

The world warned her against such resistance,

And swore to banish her existence

But the girl merely snorted and said “to hell with your dominance”

Because little did the world know that it’d be soon thrown into a vortex

Shining from within like a blaze of sunlight,

Powered up by vexation from her plight,

She crackled and broke the ancient shields of the dark skies,

And swallowed the ossified world with her plumes of divine light

Yet little did she know that she has pioneered a new set of starlights

© Sri.Mun

The Last Kiss

Under the dim setting of,

A forbidden dwelling of pleasure,

He sat and stared hard at her,

Brushing off other exotic dancers.

Her amber skin shined,

Her golden curls waltzed,

While she tantalised,

The men with gold-filled vaults.

He sought her attention,

In pain and rage,

Desired to seize his possession,

And to get her out of their cage.

Sensing his fiery gaze,

She turned towards him,

Leaving behind her forced play,

To end his unceasing whim.

“I am in misery, let me go,

I am not worth you, let me go,

You deserve better, let me go”

Her words hit him with a strong blow.

He shuddered, broken into pieces,

His world collapsed in front of him,

Dominant hues of blackness,

Sadistically smothered him.

Unable to see him pulverised,

She leaned in closer,

To savour his lips one last time,

And secure closure.

He delved deep into her mouth,

Demanded every inch of her soul,

But the timeless fire spoke out loud,

T’is the last kiss their destiny doled.


Pitter patter of heavens, drench of mahogany woodlands

Sheer magic, love at first sight, or simply an illusion

Greens and browns of foliage, melancholic blues

Crying with me or for me, tears of betrayal?

Who can tell?

Red dress, an outlier in the wet hues

Stranded, ripped, delusion to an end

Shield of trust broken, quivers and shivers

Flushed cheeks, glittery eyes, tautness between eyebrows

Tears from laceration or merely rain droplets?

Who can tell?

A saccharine visitor, but only ephemeral

Memories reverberant, etched, crystal like diamonds

Metamorphosis of necking, love making, echoes of laughters

Into waiting, lingering distance, comatose in no time

Thunderstorms in disguise of refreshing rains?

Who can tell?

Diminutive pellets of water, immortal thirst of exhausted leaves

Inordinate healing waters, cravings of fragile heart

Mistakes of the past, diffusive air of future

Moment with closed eyes, desire for the same or another turtledove?

Who can tell?

© Sri.Mun

Tug of War

Naked is how I am, in the greyest of greys
Leaning against my flanks, are my memory bays

Unlit and sombre mounds of flashbacks cry out
Luring me into the depths of its magnetic mouth

I see through the clouds of my lonely childhood
How I trod on the prickly paths, barefoot

The travesty of affection is loud and clear
Incessant echoes of mockery bleed my ears

Yet the pearly waves of blithe reflections exist
They swivel me around to purge me of the mist

I recall the smell of air of contentment and relief
The warmth of my mother’s touch, my only reprieve

Vivid recollections of star gazing are on a display
The sound of shells still take my breath away

Yes, I remember all, the dusks and dawns
My universe of experiences, no rights or wrongs

I stand straight with no time for this tug of war
Only the grey point defines my core

I take my greys to give rise to a cluster of hues
Sprawling from within, I see a colourful view


As Long As It Takes

Orange flame donning the black wick

Torpid wax melting on the cracked floor

Stubborn blaze playing its trick

Consuming the days of relentless war


Snowy owls hooting in unison

Perching on the rusty window sill

Amplifying the deafening silence

In the old man’s state of origin


No longer a fearless soldier

His resiliency drooping with fading pride

Nonetheless, a disquieted father

His heart wrenching for his only knight


With every passing valiant soul

Gliding swiftly through the crimson river

His wait descending into a slaty hole

Wiggling to fight for his pillar


Rooting to his spot, however

Reminiscing about his son surprising him

Jumping through incessant loops of fire

Assuring his father to have faith in him


“As long as it takes, I shall hold onto it”

Chanting the words with a sliver of hope

Though blustery winds preparing to take him in

Only in time for his son to return, but to mourn