Imagine a balloon
So high up in the air all you can see is a red dot
With a string, miles long, connecting it to a golden anchor
By your feet
And you have a pair of scissors
Would you cut the string and let it fly into a mysterious oblivion
Possibly just a balloon graveyard, but maybe an adventure, where the whole sky is pink save for a few golden threads
Or reel it down and retie it on the anchor, beautiful, but static, only a slight wind to add any variation,
if there was ever even a wind at
all
Or would you cut the balloon, and take it with you, where ever you choose to go?

She has sewn with love
patches on my heart,
covered those holes made
by others in my past.

She was gentle, dabbing
it with kindness, removing
the shrapnel of betrayal
that had put so many
holes with in my heart.

She sewed it with a needle
of love, she put feelings
in the patches that soothed
the rough parts so the
patches laid soft.  

She had been gentle from
the start, to patch up the
holes from my past. She
had left a patch work patten
on my heart, for now love
could enter ,this was no
longer a heart with holes
but a patch work design
that was sewn with love.

Stars falling like burning hailstones.
Not one wish formed
From the ashes below.

Earth stretches and yawns; scratches
A continent finally
Free from fleas, then

Returns to solitaire sleep while
Epochs enter into aeons
Before the itching

Ever so slowly begins again;
Species rise to reign in the usual
Pre-apocalyptic illusions of

Meaning, denying being merely a
Planetary slap away from a crushed
Stain of the blood it once ******.

I never feel as in place and balanced
As when my insignificance looks me
Dead in the eye. And winks.

I want to use smaller and simpler  
Words, until my poems are those of
Infants drawing stick figures
On gallery walls.

Haikus like commas;  
Periods of teeniest tiniest
Truths.

I name this
School of
Poetry
Crayon.

You have bestowed me with the indelible ink
And the pen dipped in it, flows effortlessly
Writing passionate words, in the pristine white
Pages, which are the canvas, of your faith in me
The supreme surrender to my muse
And I have been gifted with the freedom to emote
My inner feelings, completely exposed
As you are me, and I am you, our soul coalesced
As the passion has reached a crescendo
And the final ****** has reached a frenzied culmination





© Amitav (Radiance)

Holding on to dear life
Falling each moment,
More and more
In love with you