Its touch so sensuous Its eyes drawing me into itself Its body snuggling in mine Rousing a passion yet unknown…
I am fortunate to have been born into a family with keen literary interest. My father taught Malayalam (the language that people of Kerala speak) literature in the High Schools. My mother, though a home-maker, has excellent knowledge in literary works in Malayalam, English and Hindi. Both of them took keen interest in our education. There was a good collection of books at home, which served as our introduction to serious literature. Poetry, fiction, biographies everything was available to sate our hunger. Moreover, at home we subscribed Mathrubhoomi (Mother Land) , a weekly in Malayalam, that used to dwell on serious literature. This shaped our interests and promoted our talent. I still read whatever I can lay my hands upon.Very keen on poetry. Malayalam, English, Hindi, translated. Fiction too. A true fan of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Umberto Eco. I write both in Malayalam and English. Especially, poetry.Some fiction, book reviews, sometimes about banking, literature. A book of my poems in Malayalam has been published recently by " Green Books" , by name " OZHINJA KOOTUKAL" (Nests vacated) . The book is available in Amazon, the online book store. I am a banker by profession. Married. We are blessed with one daughter.)
Unnikrishnan Sivasankara Menon şiirleri
Poetry is the true expression of one's soul.…
A grain of rice Alone In the cooking pot Cries, 'I wish…
He was as old as my grandfather and I, just twelve. Marriage meant nothing to me, not even a new cheeram. He lived in penance and I, just a little child, tended the aashram, Never…
'Vinaa dainyena Jeevitam Anaayasena maranam' what the ascetics of the yore In India dreamt of, always.…
(This is a small poem written years back for my daughter, when she was still a kid.) 'Why Sunday? ' My daughter asked.…
When you see a silver lining in the sky just look for the dark cloud that it encircles, ready to break into a thunderous shower.…
We lie Looking In each other's eyes, As sleep eludes them.…
Winter, The goddess of the longest nights Of the netherworld Hades My days she invades!…
Emmet Till A little boy of fourteen A little black boy of fourteen! Now on his mutilated head…
River water washes everything clean…
The picture of a mother standing guard to the carcass…
Clouds In November They just turn into grief…
On Twitter Was an old picture Of a few mothers Grieving over two coffins.…
Dark are my nights. As sun sets in the morning Darker are my days.
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