Hi, I'm Mahesh Ramakrishnan 👋

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Thy Lustre

Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #290

A purple screen of dusk now descends
Marking the close of a futile day,
A little lamp is lit and its flame lends
A meagre light to my musing’s way.

The bruises remind of what had passed,
The malicious event and fell circumstance;
To a storm I seem to be anchored,
One without end, only more beginnings.

O Gracious Heart, is there not to be found
One sliver of utility worth redeeming
In this produce of clay so earth bound?
Oh I flail upon moment-seas sans meaning!

Lend O King one conferring gesture,
Raising the fallen adds to Thy lustre.[1]

[1]Rescuing the adrift adds to Thy lustre.

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First Cell

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #82

Who shall know the grim onslaught 
From aimless hours that besiege,
The mind is cleaved from thought 
And the heart barred from feeling.

A makeshift appearance is present
And denied all agency of being,
The will like a sceptre broken is kept,
None remains to direct any becoming.

Is this crucible from some void wrought,
To all our impulsions with a nay replying?
Like when time was young and life stirred not
And the first cell fought all earth for its birthing.

Are we marked for Thy barren experiments only
And the happier attempts for those wrought nobly?