There isn't any half time mark
in a true blue love game, my darling
Neither prior fixed schedules or dates
nor strict rules, regulations, contracts
in a game of love, lovers avidly play it
themselves, in the way they truly wish
whether callow or highly seasoned,
mindful, heartless or calloused inside out!

The players decide where it has to be
played out, how long and  when the
curtain should fall and what would
be the after math of this; what results!

In course of the moves of this game
the thing important is particularly this:
They decide what to do with the dear life of each,
some times out of sheer impulse, even  eyes shut.
The ones that keep sanity and good sense
and hold the head above the water, swim together
would live to tell the tale sipping a glass of wine
but the rest, mostly become tales different
rarely told with a smile,most of those are written
in the black ink of grief and sung at taverns after
the hours dark falls  and ghosts vengefully roam.

Some, fall by the wayside in sacrifice, and perish
many disappear in dark pits invisible that lay
in wait to eat them head and all, without a trace.

But the ones I sing about are these pairs, resilient
they hold hands, steadily climb the path,
winding and narrow leading to the view point,
on the top of the green hill, from there
the view is breath taking, an ample reward!

The lake was frozen,
the world was white
trembling me set my step out
walking on the frozen lake
my steps broke ice

----------_-----  _ --

I held me, barely found the balance
let my nested man to walk
His nested man as he fails
walked as so on...
I came to the city
was in other side of lake
when I was a kid
Matryoshka dolls I used to play with
made me walk on thin ice

Not wanting
brings you what you wanting

Little freckles of dust
create big mass

Every time you crucify
be the no one - be the dust

**resuscitate

NOT ALL POETRY SHOULD BE ABOUT DEPRESSION,
LOVE, WIND AND TEA-CUPS - I PREFER TO BE
THE DONALD TRUMP OF THE POETRY WORLD:
SEEMINGLY ILLITERATE, OBSCENELY DISSOLUTE,
UNINFORMED, SOCIOPATHICAL AND FALSELY MAGICAL;
SOMEONE SAID THAT, 'WE HAVE A DUTY TO
IMPART KNOWLEDGE,' I DID NOT ENTIRELY AGREE,
NOT ALL OF US ARE SUITABLY QUALIFIED AND THOSE
WHO ARE NOT MAY PASS ON THEIR OWN MISTAKES;
A TEACHER MISSPELT THE WORD '*******,'
AND NOW HALF THE TOWN IS WRITING THE WORD
BOLLUCKS INCORRECTLY; THOSE WHO CAN, DO AND
THOSE WHO CAN NOT, JOIN THE RADIO -LIKE CERTAIN
PRESENTERS, IT RINGS, WHO SEEM TO HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF ALL THINGS.

Wiggy doesn’t mean it is a wig
Just that it looks very like one;
And the hairdo is so ludicrous
That we can’t help making fun.
You act like an adolescent
Your orange hair is almost funny.
You utter the most inane things
Your disposition totally not sunny.

Wiggy little piggy, is what you are
As you ludicrously strut about.
You make yourself a laughingstock
From your hooves up to your snout.
You spout a bunch of garbage
High on the ignorance scale
Like you bought it all half price
At a dollar-store basement sale.

Snort and wiggle, grimace and scowl
It’s quite the side-show carnival show
You open your mouth and let fall out
Words that prove what you do not know.
Grunt and wallow in your own mud
Holler, howl, bellow and squeal
As if the lies you are telling us all
Amount to something valid and real.

Wiggy little piggy, is what you are
As you ludicrously strut about.
You make yourself a laughingstock
From your hooves up to your snout.
You spout a bunch of garbage
High on the ignorance scale
Like you bought it all half price
At a dollar-store basement sale.

So far, you are making yourself
Totally beloved in the Sainted South
But to most of us you would look
Better with an apple in your mouth.
You **** and moan and pontificate
And spout such bigoted wit
That the best place for you is
Guest of honor on a barbecue spit.

Wiggy little piggy, is what you are
As you ludicrously strut about.
You make yourself a laughingstock
From your hooves up to your snout.
You spout a bunch of garbage
High on the ignorance scale
Like you bought it all half price
At a dollar-store basement sale.

A still pool dreaming,
Meddling wind on it's surface,
Ripples voice protests.

Just a drink of water,
to quench my thirst
for your presence
for ever---

A loving pat on one cheek
for all the love on me you showered,
and softly, ever so softly
on the other cheek
give  the parting kiss for keeps.

That's all I ask for,
all the love we shared between us
never fully contained in whispers and kisses
all night conversations and caresses.

Taking a deep breath, look in to my eyes,
and pour all your blues, for me not to forget,
we are a coagulated scented mass, rare
no one in this world could separate.

Let me  emulate the wind, that rustles leaves
well before leaving without telling anything
and in return shuffle my hair, like before,
I will leave smiling, without thinking.
even when my heart is in fire hissing:
"Ah! this is how it all ends, never to repeat"

I 've learned the art of containing pain,
quite early in my life, without much effort,
a white fluffy haired pup,my dad's first gift,
that made happy beyond my little heart's content,
the one I bathed cared and fed, day and night
left for ever, in one cold  after noon...
heart broken I wept, tried to wake him up
Dad consoled "Let's buy another".It didn't help, a bit.

But when the pet parakeet, that flew around our home
was made his meal by our own rouge cat
the scattered wings, feathers and bones scared,
I didn't cry or panic, the pain died down within
I was learning a lesson then for a path strewn with thorns.

I'll walk away straight, with a smile,
like many smiles went past you,
but now, I know  you'll whimper,
But don't,  please don't shed that drop of tear
at the corner of your eye, hold it there,
it'll mutely tell you about a love divine, for ever.