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Creation and Criticism

ISSN: 2455-9687  

(A Quarterly International Peer-reviewed Refereed e-Journal

Devoted to English Language and Literature)

Vol. 02, Issue 04 : Jan 2017

Five Poems of K V Raghupati

Dawn Edwards was born in Newport, South Wales in The United Kingdom on Dec 20, 1965. Though she has always liked reading poetry, it's only recently she started writing her own poetry and is enjoying penning new poems very much. She has currently published her poetry on a poetry group named 'Poet's Garden' on Facebook, which is presently her only outlet for posting her poems online. She can be contacted through her email:

1. An Uninvited Visitor


On a flamboyant morning

that came slanting through the window curtain

it landed on the windowsill

as gentle as a parachutist, exalted.

Dazzled, of its size and splendour I am yet to grasp

its chestnut coloured wings like scaly tree barks,

its scented feathers borne of all  leaves and lands

its claws firming the edge of the sill

as if holding from its crumbling

its snow-glinting eyes peering underneath

I looked into them, the mystery hidden in the depths

like treasures in the deep sea

Its chest puffed out, bloodshed with passion.


Is it a Brahmini?

Unmindful of my presence on the other side

it sat like a true monk, white necked

I like how you fly holding the blue sky on your wings in pride

how you trim a wind and sail.

You have a topographical map of the world in your eyes

and trivial for you who cheated whom,

who murdered whom on the earth.


At fifty eight I tell myself that I am nothing before you

O my mounted knight, king of the wind and sky

You have a narrative without ending.

I like your way you keep your emotions under your claws.


Aren’t you tired of soaring whole life?

Our souls meet – soft – music ceases

I call it no more as it flew lifting its majestic body.


2. Evening


Yellow, through the partially opened door,

burn the summer evening;

glistening the blue sky with brown skin,

above, tired lungs of  birds crossing back in sickled rows;

dreary evening wrapping the earth round her withering forms,

ten thousand tall

stately trees,

even in the hot May, the cool wind from the sea,

quenches the long grass in ragas.


Day however sinks like rain water in the bay,

sky splitting down in the  womb of darkness,

travails to give birth for yet another summer morning.

At the fading twilight of this summer evening,

this lone traveller has no companion!


3. Ode to My Mother


Once more I summon you

out of my memory grave

with tear-jerking love.

You who nurtured eight uneven characters

I see your image

strutting and looking out of the past’s window

in May summer

as the yellow evening sun licks the brown earth.

What I remember

how you endured my cries and kicks

and what I remember

how you never stopped your egalitarian love for eight                    


I summon you now from the memory grave

With frailty and anguish

to watch my love.

The birth giver, the lion-hearted.


4. This Number Does not Exist


This number does not exist

but exits, without it

no number exists, without it

no value is added or subtracted.


This number does not exist

but exists, in it is contained everything

no creation exists, without it

no life is augmented or reduced.


This number does not exist

but exists, it exists

It is zero, it is pujyam, poornam, shunyam

Without it all life is meaningless

All life is zero, yet all zero is life.


5. A Poem with Silence


I sat near the window

gazed, drifting clouds

chirping birds, barking dogs

grass cutters, whirring cars

sprawling  sunshine, sweeping winds.

I wanted to write a poem

No clouds, no birds

no dogs, no cutters, no cars

All words fell in silence

with the silence of the sinking sun.



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