Knock At The Doors Of Your Conscience

Poem By Rajendran Muthiah

You ask the trees in the thicket;
in the shades of which you receited
the verses of love on me and they will rustle:
" Yeah, you loved her".

You call the waves of the billowy sea.
Before their eyes, you kissed me
and made a rush of your hand many a time on me,
and they will advance towards you looming and roaring:
" You cheat, don't tell lies! ".

You behold the roses in that garden
with your own natural eyes.
They will perfume to predict your doom and query:
" Are you a man born to a heroic mother? ".

You listen to the god-given voice of the bees and birds.
They will hum and chirp in a simple tongue:
" You shameless brute! Go to the nether world."

Why should I seek the help of the custodians of law
to bring you beside me to live a life bogus?
When your guilty conscience fails to herald your fall
what change the man-made laws will make in you?

Comments about Knock At The Doors Of Your Conscience

There is no comment submitted by members.


5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of MUTHIAH

Mail Cheerful Tidings!

O the beacon of my storm-tossed life!
Blunt not my passionate love on you
and tear my heart and mind to keep them in strife.
I won't in this life for your wild treatment sue

A Despairing Glance!

When the pimps charmed him
to pass time till morning
in the haven near the bus-station,
he walked in hanging his head.

A Corrupt Politician Committed Suicide

When the corrupt politician
was shut behind the bars,
he roared in anger in a language
couched in figures and metaphors:

A Great Fall In A Dream

She swept me up to the dreamy sky.
Riffs of her music filled my heart.
In her close embrace, I swooned.
Hugged me and kissed me.

Descend To India, All Of You!

O my Lord Siva, the luring Dancer!
If I bring to your notice
the fallen value of Rupee against the Dollars,
which has triggered a spiral of price rise,

Racial Abuse

The Aussies might practise racial abuse
on those who in public places embrace and kiss.
To kick and punch the brown they seem resolute
from stopping them, the rhythm of life, they pollute.