Where's the love, hidden in this scratching pencil, locked in my fingertips, cheating slumber?

What does the night weave, just when the peacocks scream- love? The nightly amber?

But what does love make us, in those telephonic beeps' exodus- eternal or ephemeral?

When lovers die, love does cry- sue that love which smells only the animal !!

That love is shy, holding 'you' as 'mine', under the shadows of your " candle-light" !

You feel that love , being far apart, upon bedsheet creases , on a teary night!

That love is stealthy, and kisses gently, while memories twinkle in the nightly sky !

That love does whisper, sounds of laughter, in evening breezes , where the wings fly!

Yes, that love is heavy, when you levy, a smile to hide your tears-

But it will catch you, beyond your logical hue , and free death's dominion fears !

That love strikes once, but life mimicks its dance, as we long for it !

So , keep it preserved, don't witch or wizard, in your ostensible fleshy animal outfit.

Hence, when I breathe , this mundane air, where survival of the fittest is bred-

My sonnet cares, to love you my love, even years after we are dead !!

- Arghyadip❤️❤️

We dream that all white butterflies above,
Who seek through clouds  or waters, souls to love;
But, love is a ****** red rose, whose thorns can stab like knife!

Love can make the dawn smile on the dew that covers the jasmine-
Love makes little lovers kiss their breaths for their griefs' vaccine;
But, love is a dreadful genesis, of death, that can ******* life!!

Oh, love, gave birth to great classics, great poets and great writers;
The platonics, the romantics, cooked business in the names of lovers-
But , love is a selfish shade, which never heeds the hunger' s strife;

Love is like that eight legged spider,
With its  web all around-
Trapping men and women in its dogmatic chamber,
And put 'em in a Titanic that had 'drowned'!

So , my loving mankind , let you not fathom in the oceans of love-
Be those white butterflies to float in the skies above!
Be that thunder of love and know its prowess;
Don't trick love as a bait to the *******'s impress!

Let your Valentine flower, fruit a bread for a beggar-
And let your ostensible diamond, coal a poor child's future;
For love is wealthier than wealth and riches,
Cut your bell-botts and switch to the breeches;

Let your love escape your lover's eye,
And hinder every tear in tormented despair,
For love is mankind's most powerful ally,
Mightier than the gun game, if only played fair!

As God wrote love, with no selfish fetters,
So , let love grow, with no torn love-letters!!

Arghyadip

The waiting

Art can caress, but does it speak?
Words cannot tame, but gravely hit.
As the rock of the world is founded on a butterfly's wing-
I wish I could say I am tired of waiting!!

The Jacobin Cuckoo, hallucinates the prospering smoke-
Tirelessly in every sky, for water she does evoke;
As I wander sleepless through this nightly pounding,
If only I could say I am tired of waiting !

I saw needle and vein engage in a kiss,
That would lead to ruin , not permanent bliss-
Even, for all the nights, I was scorched to the pain of loosing;
I could never say, I was tired of waiting!

I saw the bright truth, behind the veil of death's bride;
And death row's ragged strangers crucified-
If love is symbolised with a fancy red heart- does that heart stop beating?
So, why do they complain , they're tired of waiting?

I saw the face of love, embrace the Rose union-
The patient farmers, sweating in famine's dungeon,
A sleepless eye, can never lie, the pain of tireless blinking-
As it searches for respite , never tired of waiting!

Yes, I stared into eyes of love and hate,
Yet, most carried the cross of cruel fate-
If love is a fire, in the darkness of life; shall it stop flaming?
I wish I could find a flame for me waiting!

The Dove does descend from the sapphire blue skies;
To show us, all is one and all is free-
Can a son ask his mother to delay her dying?
If only he could, he would not be waiting!

The April rain heals in verdant springtime,
Like the poignant whispers of love sublime.,
Oh ! The intellects, the supremo mammals, can you for once stop mating?
And free that albatross, as an ancient mariner is waiting.

And I realise in the Rose pink dawn-
There is only a brief light between two dark eternities,
As I numb my senses, to love's thrill and wailing,
I wish for me, there's someone waiting!!