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Chandi Sinnathurai' Profile


Legendary Poet

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▲ 30 points in the past 7 days

About Me and My Poetry

Had been writing poetry as a lad. Written and published poetry in many websites and books for more than a few years.

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A window opens
when all doors shut
Perceptions alter
... continued
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The flowers speak in silence
 With the blooming colours
They convey riotous thoughts
That translates the scented breeze
Into a catalytic cyclone
Inspired beneath the dancing rainbow. 
Call for a poet; not a technocrat 
Who will feel every torment of doubts
Who will catch each rhythm of shifting winds
Who will stroke his brush when sharp colours clash
Creating subtle art that burps of symphonic profusion
Who will synthesise tumultuous cacophony 
Of nations travailing for emancipation.
Call for the tender loving hands of artists
Who will soothe the pain and wipe your tears
And grant you a vision that’s far beyond your horizon.
Weave meaning to your dream; make it limitless if you will.
Call for courage; finding fire in the passionate plea of a tortured prophet
Stoned at the altar and left for dead…yet he scoffed at death!
The Poet will sing.  He will dance to the rhyme and reason of Maravar.
Never wrong-footing a step or flinching in his goal. 
Friend, play your lute and blow your worries away.
Don’t waste your time with thoughtless persons
Who seek roof-tops to blow their noses.
Don’t be tempted by Painted dolls 
That has bartered their souls to echoing walls
They only strive to be a foot note in the international scene.
Passing clouds that hold no water.
Bored-stiff Bishops check-mated by Castles
Lusting for the day for unthinking masses to kiss the Ring! 
Mark my words; call for courage;
Don’t be a parrot but a pregnant tiger [Karpini puli]
That leaves the cave with a goal
Only to pounce on an elephant
While hyenas surround to scavenge.
The budding leaves scented water lilies
The heroes are sleeping don’t meddle with their precious dream. 
You hear the bird-song…in its untainted voice
Call for precision, not for cheap play of words
You are not a harlot 
Who lifts her Can-can and bends
For every diplomatic courtesy.
Call for the memories of your forefathers and Mothers
Enflame your virgin soul!
Guard it with life and die if you will with honour.
The vision of The Writer will electrify your soul…
He who lives by the fountain Pen
Never can be vanquished by the bullets of traitors’ gun.
Friend, I weep and my tears will bear fruit.
Thank God you have noticed
The spring is here!
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An Ode to Professor Typo
"Pilfering Print Space"
[Health Warning: To be read with a straight face]
... continued
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An Ode to Orwell
... continued
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... continued
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... continued
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... continued
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Beaten and bruised.  Broken bodies.
... continued
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Sufi, my Moslem friend
Let's pretend
that the world is a long poem
with Quarter-tones and tambourines,
Whirling children, women and gentlemen.
Sufi, my Moslem friend,
Let's pretend
and turn gold into dust,
tears into silver streams,
thoughts into frozen mountains
every meaningful gestures
into an alchemy of creation.
Creating peace, joy and laughter.
Sufi, my Moslem friend
Let's pretend
that you are an unfinished verse
a fish out of water
a sealed book from the nearest lending library.
So, I return, and pay the over-due fine.
Sufi, my Moslem friend,
Let's pretend,
to read...and turn water into wine.
Cross into Crescent
Chaos into peace
Love into laughter...
So, Long!

By: Chandi Sinnathurai (also published in Axisoflogic) 
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