Centipede and me

The Centipede and Me

I was to go to the Temple

I took my scooter out

A large centipede crossed my path

I ran my scooter over it

Time and again

Centipede lay dead on the floor

Few limbs still twitching

I was aghast and shocked

What a deed out of character

Was it inner fear or loathe

I had no answer

I reached the temple

Folded hand I stood

A silent prayer to the God

Few droplets of tears

Escaped my eyes

Speeding back home

It all dawned on me

I always speed on the highway

On my way to the college

One day the monster bus

Would hit

My soul hovering over

My likeness pasted on

The road

Litter finger still twitching

I have joined you my lord

Thank you

After all it was poetic Justice

K.V. Radhakrishnan

The Little Child

The little Child

He was all of his five years

inquisitive like a cat

Why crow is black

when dove is white

Why can’t he fly

when birds fly

Fly is what he wanted

flapping hands

went round and round

He was here he was there

he was everywhere

Balagopal of the yore

Sundays were his special day

Shaktiman came to his drawing room

little fellow’s world changed

became part of the episode

Through the TV screen

reality merged with unreality

Somewhere in that little brain

Shaktiman real and powerful

That Sunday evening

he went to the terrace

four floors above the ground

In time and space for a few seconds

reality merged with unreality again

He saw Shaktiman by his side

flapped his wings and took the leap

A thud and inert lay Balgopal of the yore

Oh good lord

why you play this game

muddle up that little brain…..

K.V.Radhakrishnan

Rag pickers

He and sister lived on a ledge

under the culvert

His hair all matted

face a mask of grime

His sister had large eyes

a demure of nonchalance

Two big sacs were the only possession

a couple of dogs kept them company

Before daybreak they walked to the bin

their favorite one near the hotel

Here they scourged

for breakfast lunch and dinner

Rotten tomatoes

and leftovers of the night after the rats feast

They swallow what they can

they fill the bags plastic bags and bottles

A large swanky sedan

breaks near the bin

Passenger seat glass goes down

a bejeweled manicured hand flicks a plastic bag

The boy’s hand shoots out catches the bag

a catch as good as any great slip catch

He opens the bag with fervor was a white spongy thing

 gives it a little squeeze hand slimy and red

 wipes his hand on his shirt front

Bewilderment writ large on his face for a fleeting second

 tosses the thing off moves off to the next bin sister in tow

Two years latter

The girl lay dead in the culvert

defiled and killed

Near her body was a middle-aged man

half dead battered black and blue

The young boy was never seen again…..

K.V.Radhakrishnan