Inner And Outer

Inner And Outer

by Dheena Subramanian


Use Standard Shipping. For guaranteed delivery by December 24, use Express or Expedited Shipping.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781452003115
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 03/22/2010
Pages: 84
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.20(d)

Read an Excerpt

Inner and Outer

A Collection of Inspirations in Poems
By Dheena Subramanian


Copyright © 2010 Dheena Subramanian
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4520-0311-5

Chapter One


    It is not 'I'
    who writes this.
    because only when I am not I,
    something descends, unseen, upon me or
    something ascends from, nowhere, within me,
    and gets it written.

    Since it is written with my fingers, pen and papers
    I call it mine!

    Who knows whose?


    Where was I
    before I was conceived?
    Was I in mother's ovum?
    emerging out of bloody nebula
    oozing out of her entire system

    Was I in that tiny bubble?
    spinning and rocking
    on the shores of womb,
    devoid of a centre?

    Was I in father's sperm?
    speeding like lightning
    to pierce through to the core
    setting in motion vibration of life?

    Was I in a static sphere?
    waiting to sneak through
    as an image of leading sperm?

    Where was I
    Before I was me?


    When stomach is full,
    It keeps mum.
    But the mind,
    More you feed,
    More it asks.

    "What is Life?"
    'The present is the effect of the past and cause for the future!'

    "What is Love?"
    'In balance fuses to create
    In stress collide to break!'

    "What is Death?"
    'Holiday for stock-taking!'

    "What is..?"
    'When will you stop questioning?'
    I intervened before it completed.
    "When you don't bother answering!",
    Came the swift reply.


    America! O! America!
    Stretching thousands of miles,
    Not run past
    By a colt galloping into a Stallion,
    Whose treading hooves
    Sending vibrations of a rhythm
    Echoing that echoes against mountains,
    Melting and floating over a bubbling stream,
    Whispering pride of freedom
    To the leaves of grass,
    Swaying to falcons soaring into sky,
    Land, Rock, water, wind, and sky,
    Were all once strung by thread of life!


    America! O! America!
    Who were they?
    Where they came from?
    Were they the sprouts of your own soil?
    Or wreckage-remnants washed ashore?
    Who were they?
    Those Red-Indians!
    Whose bows and arrows,
    Knives and axes
    Knelt before barrels of gun,
    Castrating oxen
    Yoking burden
    Of History
    Old, bold and gold.

    A pinch of salt dissolved in ocean
    Of speed, pleasure, violence and death!


    More than pain
    Joy is unbearable!
    While grief anchors down one still,
    Excitement scatters all over
    Wrecking and rocking wild shores!


    The past is killed
    Memory is blank!

    What is the present?
    Bundles of puzzles!

    A blink for a blink!


    Why this tendency towards non-existence?
    Why this urge of merging with nothingness?
    Is it an indifferent escape from harsh realities?
    Is it an illusory capture of the ultimate real?
    Is it possible to transcend all past lives to return as primeval light?
    Is it feasible to shed all desires and thoughts by humming with universal
    Is it a mistaken outward Journey for an Inner one?
    How does an Inner Voyage witness similar cosmos?

    Before the Inner eyes expands the Buffer Darkness,
    There is no day or night,
    Except occasional flickers or rare brightness.
    Particles of sound and waves of images collide, fuse and fissure,
    Ideas, big and small, rotate and revolve,
    With emotions and thoughts held in their magnetic field,
    To be their errands on demand.

    The mind merely observes,
    It can not step into the floating sphere
    Lest, would be lost into oblivion.
    The mind simply watches, standing on the edge.
    Each and everything slips, unaware, into the darkness.
    The mind can not call back.
    But, very often shits and rarely pearls are thrown ashore,
    Ready to be washed away!
    The watchful mind picks up pearls.

    The mind's prayers, often, go unanswered,
    Still, when least expected,
    It pours down tearing the roof!


    I am written on and through,
    Overwritten on and on and through,
    The last written merging with the first written,
    Through the intermediates written,
    Like a collage indistinguishable,
    Like a unique compound inseparable,
    Except a word here and a word there,
    All out of joint and whither,
    Now meaning one and then another,
    Leaving, at last, nothing but non-sense.
    When will I become a Book of Books?
    A Blank mind decoding all the minds,
    Words pure and simple appearing
    And all disappearing when no more needed.
    Like a silent current flowing unseen,
    Transcending, Time and Space, being nothing?!


    Each boat,
    Rocked by innumerous waves,
    From infinite angles,
    Drifting away from the set direction and the desired destination
    Washes ashore,
    A destined island.


    I was a premature baby abruptly excited
    Searching still for the womb of nature
    Taking refuge in the shade of dark leaves or thick bushes,
    Calling her deep ... deep in the Time past,
    Never getting the answer back!

    I had a congenital loss
    Of a link of gene in the web of instincts,
    Lacking urge to build my own nest.

    So, I lay eggs in the crow's.
    From a distance, I watch
    Crows and cuckoo hatch.
    Impulsively, I, approach,
    Excited, my baby cries,
    Alarmed, mother crow chases me out!
    I cry for my mother,
    I cry for my child.
    Neither comes back, but just an echo of my call!


    Round and round and round
    Sailing all along
    Different latitudes,
    Islands emerge and sink
    Elegies and lullabies merge
    In an echo that is drowned
    By waves that rise and fall
    Fall to rise again!


    Don't ... don't follow me.
    It is a waste of life!

    My way is as different as my destination.

    Ask your inner self,
    The answer lies in you and you alone.
    If there is no direction,
    Be assured,
    Your destiny is too far,
    Your path has not still been laid down,
    And your time of departure has not been yet scheduled.
    Till then, wait!


    A few casual acquaintances came, talked with me and have gone.
    My immediate neighbors came, played with me and went off.
    I am alone!

    Meanwhile, it seems,
    My best friend ever,
    Had come to stay with me.

    His knocks at my door,
    Still echo, disappointed.
    I try to recollect and identify him,
    In vain.

    I am terribly left alone!


    I feel thirsty,
    Though I am surrounded/by fresh-water lakes
    In a land of refuge,
    Though I get profusely wine and honey
    In a foreign country,
    Still I long for a hand-cup of water
    Water of my own land!
    Blood flowing veins
    Crave for its smell,
    Primary memory
    Enacts its taste.
    Though my land is famine-stricken,
    Though my soil looks for the skies,
    Still, drops, dripping from the rocks,
    Preserved like pearls in hard shells,
    Smell like my father,
    Sweet like my mother,
    Oh! How I thirst for water of my land!
    Present likens a dream
    Future, dream in a dream!
    When will it be the dawn?
    When shall I return home?
    When shall I quench the thirst for my land!


    Never, never I thought you would part me,
    Why, you could have asked me,
    Gladly, I would have let you free!

    Was it not our terms to complement each other?
    Have we not known compulsion hinders compassion?
    If I had ever known it,
    At least,
    I could have got prepared!

    But, why?
    Why did you part like that?
    So bluntly, so violently, so crudely and so cruelly ...
    The holocaust's blast mutilated my core,
    Oozing blood curdled and serum stinky,
    Writhing and wrenching pain sucking up all energy
    And spitting out like scattered straw,
    Burning within and without,
    The radiating agony sweeping from string of hair to nail of toe ...
    The present dissolves deep,
    And the past resurrects,
    The memory of loss revives,
    With that the yearning for you!

    Can't you come back?
    A few movements of moment,
    Shall soothe lightly the wound fresh still,
    If not completely get it healed.
    Can't you ever come back?

    Why, say, why did you ever part me like that?
    So desperately, so impatiently, so restlessly to be your own ...
    It was a full moon-lit night,
    The moon was so near,
    Caressing every being with her breezy touch

    Covering everything in dreamy slumbers ...
    Suddenly you fell me
    With a lightning thunder,
    I stood aghast,
    And you are no more to be seen!
    You disappeared!


    I feel I am going to die,
    As mysteries of Life, Love and Death unfolds,
    As there is nothing to be told
    I feel I am going to die.
    I feel I am going to die,
    As the body's organs pretend stopping,
    Having lost the purpose of their hopping,
    I feel I am going to die.
    I am afraid I am going to die,
    Though the mind expect the unexpected,
    Still, something somewhere objects ... but,
    I feel I am going to die.


    Hydrogen fused and re-fused to form the soil and the oceans,
    Oxygen fused to forge the ozone,
    Soil and ocean fused to bear plants and fishes,
    Organisms fused and cross-fused to mutate man's flesh,
    Plants fissure water air light and soil
    Organisms, animals fissure plants and proteins,
    They all grow, live and die to let live,

    But, man fissures and fuses atoms to annihilate one and all,
    To let death and darkness forever to cover over all!


    The sun and the moon are parents,
    Whole day and night, they are caring!

    Coming bright in the morning
    Going light in the evening
    The sun makes life all glowing!

    Taking charge in the night
    Singing cool till the light
    The moon keeps all sleeping!

    The sun and the moon are Rangers,
    Saving the Earth from strangers.

    Guarding from the speeding stars,
    Burning down stray meteors,
    The sun shields all safer!

    Freezing all the Star-dust
    Putting germs into rest
    The moon does her best!


    If it is a Scheme celestial
    Precise to the nano-second,

    What can do the human interference?

    Seemingly influential and halting
    Yet, in finality, superfluous,
    But triggering further the course of its execution!


    On the shore
    Vast is the earth,
    Wide is the sky,
    Big is the ocean,
    How small I am!

    "IF NOT I"

    I imagine
    What I would be
    If not writing poems,
    A crab walking sideways
    Looking suspiciously at everything,
    Scared even by the sound of waves,
    Running back to take refuge,
    In to a small black hole.
    A mouse tearing constantly
    One or another into tatters
    To let not the sharp teeth growing
    And piercing one's own self,

    A mere government employee
    Tiring like a willing slave
    Carrying rumors and telling tales
    Usurping promotion
    Taking grudge of others into the grave,
    Having no friends
    To say a word of grief or joy
    Bequeathing nothing to posterity
    Leaving no trace in history
    Except the remarks
    'Good' or 'Satisfactory'
    In service register and confidential report
    Bundled to records section
    With a label,
    'May be destroyed after three years!'


    Like, bees in swarm, humming the same tune,
    Playing ceaseless dance in electron fashion,
    Gathering honey from flowers far and near,
    Thoughts sing, dance and labors all hours,
    Till the stick of Death, strikes the mind,
    To squeeze away all, that was stored.


    Lips to lips
    Whisper secrets of love
    In breathless silence
    And semi-darkness,
    Witnessed by tinges of blood
    Suppressed by a glittering smile!


    Rotten corpses,
    Corroded skeletons
    Dusty ashes and
    Suffocating fumes,
    Can not rise from the graves or crematoriums.

    But, on your last day of breath,
    When your door is opened by death,
    You are caught alone,
    No relatives neither friends
    Nor even Gods come to bail you out.

    You are left all ... all alone,
    You are yourself ...
    To decide yourself!
    No summons, you are the witness!
    No adjournments,
    Everything is evident!
    No arguments,
    Just the judgment reserved!
    No multiple choices
    Just binary!

    Either cessation of Birth
    Or sentence of Life!
    To be or not to be
    The final verdict!


    A city- traffic congested,
    With vehicles long and short, high and low,
    Running helter skelter as 'L' board drivers,
    Going round and round losing sense of directions,
    Wasting time without knowing,
    Leaving space with suffocating smoke,
    Crashing one over another,
    Raising cries of non-sense,
    Jamming everything to halt,
    Releasing howls of horns,
    Striking fore-head and cursing fate,
    Vehicles move on and on to repeat the same.

    Wait till all slow down and get parked,
    Let it be dark but the starry night is enough
    Be silent and be patient,
    Don't look back in anxiety.
    Suddenly, a vehicle comes in lightning speed,
    Lifting you up along grand landmarks and new vistas,
    Dropping you at the desired destination
    For you to recollect in tranquility!


    Though it is my next door,
    I have not gone through
    Except throwing occasional glances!

    Friends speak,
    Of its splendorous architecture
    Whose bright domes, stupendous pillars
    Intricate carvings and delicate images
    Unveil the unseen out of the seen!

    Of its mysterious silence
    Echoing from one hall to another
    Whispering hidden secrets
    Of time-long treasures!

    Of many familiar exhibits
    And several that delude faint memory
    Moving like a dream in reality!

    At the thresh hold itself
    I stand aghast!


    I thought
    I had forgotten you
    I would never remember again
    Even if a friend reminds
    I would brush it aside.

    But, the very same probing stare of your eyes
    That tore my heart thread bare once
    Haunts me now again
    Drifting my mind into deep past
    Anchoring into unfathomable sadness.

    I know pretty well
    The past can not be rewound
    And played once more now.
    But the heart nostalgic
    Harbors the single thought
    Of going back in Time
    And putting things in order once for ever!
    Oh! How much I long for a time machine!


    We write with perspiration and perseverance
    Under the streak of cloudy light omnipresent,
    Hearing the chance tune of eternal music.

    But, yours seem to be
    The Lightning compressed of all lights and
    The universal vibration being Source of all Creations.


    Mind addictive
    Craves for excitement
    Caused by sensations
    Be it by
    Smoking joint, sipping peg
    Kissing girl or
    Writing poem.

    All you can have
    Or at least buy,
    But not a poem.

    You can not force out
    A premature child
    Or Caesarian
    For a still-born one.
    Wait, you have to

    Till the slow moving worm
    Eats up its green share
    Sleeps deep in cocoon
    To wake up as butter-fly
    Fluttering here and there
    Bringing joys to eyes that behold!


Excerpted from Inner and Outer by Dheena Subramanian Copyright © 2010 by Dheena Subramanian. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See All Customer Reviews