Anting

I enter my anting era—
the infested world
demands its cure.

Tiny nibbles, biting,
vomiting formic fire—
painkillers,
natural,
healing.

I stay cool, composed,
well-groomed,
ready for another start.

Refreshed,
reborn,
from the ants’ embrace.

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Where your desires end
There the desert begins

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A Tribute on World Elephants' Day 2025
Renukagzons🖊️✍️
Gentle Giants
Jungle’s pride,
With jolly trumpets,
When unarmed,
You walk in grace.

Love your majestic
Royal pride,
Simple stories yet untold.
In troops, when you
Stride through thickets,
None dare to touch you, wild.

Grandeur of nature’s pets,
You—lo!—wonder of the world,
A marvel so rare.

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തെരുവുവിളക്കിനു
പറയാനുണ്ടോ
തോരാക്കഥകൾ!!
മിഴിനീരിൻ ചാലുകൾ
വറ്റിവരണ്ടൊരു നാടിൻ കഥകൾ!

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Phoenix Unchained

No more memories, please—
Better sweet amnesia or daring explorations.

No room for sighs,
Only the release of copious tears—
Pearls, shimmering yet worthless,
Spilled where memories fade into oblivion.

Here, I rise—The Phoenix,
Spreading my blazing wings of freedom,
Soaring, spanning the boundless sky,
Beyond where the pinnacles of man's craft crumble,
Into realms untouched, where only dreams dare to dwell.

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Blooms of Grace

Cheer up, as always,
For I know this path well—
Treading the rough side,
Where my bleeding feet bloom,
Blossoming red, red roses of love.

Once, the Great Lord walked this way,
Shedding His life’s blood—the Savior Divine.
So I embrace the thorns,
Meditate on pain,
And find in its depths a peace profound.

Through trials, love takes root,
Through suffering, grace shines bright.
For every thorn that wounds today
Shall bloom into joy—eternal and pure.

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The Orchard of Dreams
To Gentle Sea
Ai edited

For years, I toiled on barren land,
Turning dry woods into a garden grand.
Like a rigid army, the trees once stood,
Blocking light, choking the good.
No birds sang, no bees would hum,
No blossoms called, no fruits would come.
I watched in silence, plain to see
A lifeless grove, no harmony.
So with steady hands and heart so bold,
I cleared the roots, both young and old.
I dug, I toiled, through sweat and strain,
Striking hard through dust and rain.
At last, the roots gave way below,
And light could touch new life to grow.
With care, I chose each precious seed,
Dreaming of the fruit they'd breed.
I mapped my orchard, rich and rare,
Planted roots with tender care.
Seed by seed, with love they grew,
Blossoms bright in golden hue.
Now I stand with joy and grace,
Baskets full, a heart in place.
O wanderers, come, taste and see,
A harvest rich, a gift from me!

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"Mirage of Longing"
You are but a beautiful lie,
All my idle hours' fantasies,
Afternoon siesta’s opaque memory,
Where death devoured
draining domestic marathons.
You are a mirage,
My dead pathways,
Desert’s longing lust.
To catch you, I used to run—
Yet reached nowhere.
Still, as I had an aim,
I resumed the errands
That otherwise might have paused, lost!
But here—
I wake up, no more beautiful lies,
Nor ugly,
No pursuit of mirages,
No deadly disguise.
Instead, I walk forward, steady and free,
For dawn now rises, bright within me.

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Scorn is the vilest of all,
From foes who delight in your fall.
Beware of their bite,
So sneaky, not slight—
A black mamba’s sting is but small

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