I am honoured to post
on my site
crafted by a man
lost in the mists of time.
With amazing depth and apt choice of words, PVR captures the essence of the 70s and gives us a glimpse into the India that was. His poems stand the test of time and are relevant even in this day and age proving the adage that the more we change, the more we remain the same.
Poems by PVR Subramanyam (1929 to 1982, Andhra Pradesh, India) :
Eavesdropping I roam forever
with a notebook tucked in my heart
Words, I scrumptiously hear
Make patterns of guilt and art.
I skyjack the clouds in the sky
And shadow the crowds in the street
I see what the Sun cannot espie
And rhyme it all though indiscreet
Nobody pays for what I do
Nobody reads what I write
Maybe you read a verse or two
Eavesdropping in the dark, dark night.
Open and see yourself brother!
So ugly and deceitful you are
Never be shut, for the dark stranger
Makes room for all we abhor.
Like leaves let the days fall around
And Time whisper its endless pslam
Gather all the small things you found —
the coward’s heart and music in storm.
(Gleaned from “Poems by PVR Subramanyam”)
PVR’s poetry appeared in the 1977 Autumn issue of Samphire magazine printed at Nottingham and his poems indicate phenomenal talent that went unnoticed at the time. I thank his progeny for gathering his poems and making them available to all those who love poetry. We haven’t yet found anything that might replace the sensitivity and raw emotion poems are made of.
Rest in peace, PVR.