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Oct 2014 · 601
The Sunbathed
Arjun Tyagi Oct 2014
In the bower, shell of earth,
She stood, sunlight bathed.
Bare apparition near the hearth,
Reveals skin to eyes depraved.
Oct 2014 · 474
House
Arjun Tyagi Oct 2014
Two brushes in clumsy hands,
Walls painted red and white.
The paint on your chin, wrong
Or a kiss gone extremely right?

The mesh on the door,
Veils your face, my twin.
As you leave me on the porch,
The door creaking when you go in.

The hose, with water gushing,
Drenching you that Winter night.
Hurried hands made you coffee,
Lit a cigarette, quite in fright.

Our chimney, a stubborn child,
Refusing to spit out the smoke.
Some days you'd forget to take measures,
The vents closed, it made us choke.

Earthly smell, the wood,
Warmth of skin and our bedsheets.
Towel wrapped, barefoot,
Emerging like Spring's spree.

Our neighbours, the trees,
The Lady Oaken, staring.
While Mr. Fernis looked on
From behind the garden clearing.

To this day I live,
In the House that has never been.
Come when you will, little one.
We'll build that House of your dream.
Soon.
Oct 2014 · 797
Prolugue to an Epilogue
Arjun Tyagi Oct 2014
A Prologue, running
Two thousand
And six hundred days.
It spanned across him, realisation.
Of the tale that had begun
In a quiet bower of snow.
It would be the road,
Never taken with her
That is most regrettable.
A sorrow, unyielding
It bleeded till none remained
A crevasse in their lives.
Filled with years
Of substitution, illusion
Of having someone else.
Her credence in him,
Biased, she persisted.
Aphrodite incarnate.
Seeking an Ares,
Futility, forgetting her Hephaestus.

Two thousand
And six hundredth day,
Now transcending to the next.
Self inflicted desertion,
Guilt of a re-established
Trust in the "once was a stranger".
Has ever the velvet
Loosened from the wrist?
A bond tied ages ago.
Eternity stands challenged
By days finally spent
Together, as one.
A final laugh,
The Universe, it's cheeks
Straining to the limits.
They, fire and smoke
Never apart; for smoke shall
Still rise from a dead pyre.
The prologue has brought
Nought but the turn-

The arrival of their final Epilogue.
Oct 2014 · 712
The First
Arjun Tyagi Oct 2014
On a chariot built on MRF,
Wearing jeans tapered;
She came along on the misty road,
To become the three day neighbour.

Seventy two hours,
Companionship formed on nerves.
The mountain boy saw
Perfection incarnate in the girl.

Giddiness was newfound freedom,
From the everyday, the mundane.
City girl, she with hair amber,
Object of desire she became.

A brave question burning holes;
Embers on his mind's hand.
He asked late, but in time,
"Where do our feelings stand?"

Rattled, she took a pilgrimage.
To the basketball court.
******* her eyes shut,
The biggest frog stuck in her throat.

Fifty seven minutes invested,
Pondering on this question.
Changing lives in the future,
Was then not thought, not mentioned.

"Yes", slow, measured response,
A jig for joy, delighting the teens,
Naivete thrives and blooms,
Where experience hasn't been.

Arms around her waist,
She let him feel like the one.
Their heads over heels,
Quickly, both made a run.

Breathing consciously,
The pair arrived at a Church.
Colonial structure, abandoned it beckoned,
An unbroken pew, his search.

He led her in, held her at
An arm's length.
Distance never crossed before,
His face came forward, an achievement.

And brushed softly
Against her mouth, his lips in trance.
He was sure when fire was found,
The Early Man danced the same dance.

Simple moment, evanescent,
It had to end of course.
Neither pulled back from the other,
Someone had opened the doors.

****** out of his revery,
Brought back to working cognition,
Realisation of the first kiss,
Dawned, it was beyond imagination.

Fourteen and in love,
Armed with a strong belief.
Life would never separate,
Him from the love he'd received.

Child, you were wrong
Says he, Seven years now dead.
Remembering the day she left,
A thousand tears were shed.

Impossible
Were his wishes gallore.
To find her, reach her, to hear
Her voice once more.

Years spent in isolation,
Anger and Hate never his friends.
How does one feel animosity,
When the heart wants amends?

Amber angel, if you ever see
The mountain boy, do reach out.
Never a need to make up for time lost,
But return the love he had found.
Sep 2014 · 498
She the Raven
Arjun Tyagi Sep 2014
Caws* in nocturnal flight,
Singular sound echoing.
Sweeping of midnight wings,
Her claws on their backs, raking.
Contours of her shape,
Ghastly in the black.
Spiralling to mirth, each night a man,
Flies to another then, takes none back.
Sep 2014 · 570
Woodwitch
Arjun Tyagi Sep 2014
Ivy of lies,
Wrapping, shifting;
Hoists him by the throat.
Woodwitch, in glee,
Cackles in delight;
Dangling by the neck, he floats.
Sep 2014 · 570
The Baron's Forest
Arjun Tyagi Sep 2014
Transgression of the poppy field,
An unseen divide.
A step into his forest, was taken,
The Baron's precious garden, his pride.

Hounds, carrion birds,
Three days since released.
Tamed to pursue his game,
Escape to the prey would not be a relief.

Gradient of the path,
Can only lead to the mire.
Mammoth or Moth regardless,
Eaten by the murky pyre.

Hand in hand,
They, the Baron's past time;
Ran three days from the manor
Blind, in stillborn moonlight.

Scraping, stumbling, falling.
Roots drink their blood.
Prey and prisoners of the night,
In the forest of the evergreen flood.

Groping through the dark,
Evidence of fear in torn faces.
Vines their shackles,
Their stench leaving traces.

The baying of the Shamans,
Ullulating in alien tongues,
Became songs singing
Of lives in the forest undone.

The Forest, never once
Did it disappoint its master.
Earthly bane, poison sap,
Nurtured by her, the mother gardener.

She emerged from the swamp,
Naked, a lipless face.
Devoid of two limbs
Bearing the Cyclop's curse with grace.

Hopping faster than sense permitted,
One legged she bustled.
Towards the six hundred sixty seventh and sixty eighth.
She, a mass of bone and muscle.

As her Master would have it,
All life must be extinguished.
The Child, with rope she suspended.
High at the treetops the form diminished.

Before the Man could look,
The Child's head was no more.
An inverted fountain of blood erupted,
And drizzled upon his nose.


Frenzied he ran, tears stillborn,
Drove himself straight into an iron stake.
Dead eyes looked even as the Baron's champion said;
"A Hunter always knows his Master's estate."
This is a complimentary poem to The Baron's Ballroom.
Sep 2014 · 1.3k
The Baron's Ballroom
Arjun Tyagi Sep 2014
I

The Baron owned,
All that was upon the moor.
He summoned the nobles,
To his Manor for a tour.

Some came in twos,
While others arrived in ones.
But all came forth,
To attend the Baron's ballroom dance.

Ushered in, by servants,
Away from the cold's kiss.
Inside, hot as a beast's maw,
Chill from spines to warmth did transit.

Tapestries hung,
Calling for their pathos.
Heavy as sleepless eyelids,
Depicting war, victories and chaos.

Arched ceiling and stairways,
A gargoyle here and a golem there.
Musty yet polished, the light shone,
On the statues' head with no hair.

The Baron led the way,
Boasting of the *Opus Francigenum
.
The guests savoured in delight,
Every word and each tenor.

The Manor De Baptiste,
Sprawling from outside.
The greatest wonder ever seen,
By nobles of the countryside.

Wine was brought forth,
Flowing not unlike the Dordogne.
Filling heads, emptying sense,
Semblance of a drunk in morn.

After traversing
A considerable number of steps,
They arrived at the doors to the fabled
Ballroom of expensive tastes.

One by one,
The guests were herded inside.
Some milled about, some danced,
No small doing of wine, some only tried.

As the night passed,
The fervour did not.
Candle lit faces swaying,
To the sounds of mellow songs.

Portraits of fathers gone and
Fathers before them bore witness,
To the sultry evening of joy.
The nobility unfamiliar with distress.

He looked on, the Baron.
Occasionally sipping his own wine.
Never tasting the stock provided
To the "nobles", the swine.

Hundreds now within,
Impervious to worldly events.
Were soon to discover,
Cries of laughter would turn to laments.


II

The monstrous clock struck thrice,
On its ivory gong.
The ebon pendulum suspended,
With the abating of the song.

His voice shushed all,
The Baron, he spoke thus;
"Nobles, gather around, if you would,
Listen to my tale, you must."


The guests by now, fever
Rising and swelling in their chests,
Came ahead to receive,
What they assumed to be some jolly jests.

" You will all die shortly."
In absence of a suitable response,
And to please their gracious host,
The guests showered him with applause.

Reader, be aware,
The wine was not just.
It was more and it was less,
Brewed from an evil lust.

Bane of the valley, the Baron,
In his forest he had his final ****.
Six hundred and sixty six,
Children, mothers and fathers, their bodies still.

A penchant for death,
An emissary for the Dark.
The Baron's necessities
With the years grew stark.

For each life his Forest claimed,
The flesh was brought to the Manor.
Servants collected the cursed blood,
Bodies hung like carrion banners.

"On the eve preceding this,
I arranged for wine exquisite.
From my own personal vineyard,
Partaking in the vintage, a requisite!"


The unknowing, innocent
Lambs in his den.
Still aloof of the liquid in their throats,
Wishing the glorious taste would not end.

And as sudden as a viper,
One noble retched blood.
Fetid emission reached noses,
And thus began the flood.

Within minutes, the expulsion spread
Much like the cursed blood in their veins.
The nobles had partook in unholy crime,
Life of innocents they had drained.

"More!"
A united voice cried out.
The blood had reached its peak,
The murmurs had turned to shouts.

The wild ecstasy filled the room,
A frenzy palpable in the vicinity.
Each guest staring at the Baron,
As the clock entered the Hours of Trinity

"Die"
He whispered like a lover's caress.
And so they did,
Under enchanted duress.

The guests, imbibed with evil
Of the Forest, snapped at each other.
No onlooker in a riot of death,
That night, like beasts they were butchered.

Eyes were gouged, nails and teeth,
Faces torn apart.
A crimson smile extended to some,
From neck to the heart.

Ladies so graceful,
Now murderous under the influence.
Descending upon their counterparts,
Tearing, ripping body and limbs.

Upright feet were the sole ones,
Not drowning in the sea of maroon.
Other extremities of the body,
Like driftwood under the ocean moon.

Not soon, excruciatingly, they fell,
Till one pillar of red stood.
Under the candlelight, black
Devoid of an eye, fingers, lips and a foot.

She staggered to the Baron,
Gripped his legs in divine embrace.
"Up ma cherie", a command,
To Death personified in grace.


"You shall mind my keep forevermore"
A champion born of bloodlust.
Assigned to nurture the Forest, his child.
A newfound mother, in her the Baron's trust.
The Baron's Forest is a complimentary poem if readers are interested.
Sep 2014 · 453
Breach of Sanity
Arjun Tyagi Sep 2014
Nevermore shall cries call,
To beseech the sense.
Comprehension of past tense;
A future built to fall.

Sanctity of an Amen,
Reduced to ashes in the mouth.
Avian journey to the south;
Forgotten and forsaken.

Hours of the wake,
A forced opening to eyelids.
When sleep offers silence;
Who would not in comfort, partake?

Fruitless labouring,
A torch beside Jupiter's bolt.
A life never written whole;
Must need divine delivering.

Goddess help, come,
To the humblest.
Wipe the insanity so picturesque.
My veins, with it thrum.

In lieu of sanity lost,
She comes with obsidian price.
To the cursed man, thrice;
Forever branded by her cross.
Jul 2014 · 567
The Story of a Cheater
Arjun Tyagi Jul 2014
Feet planted firm, alongside
A girl never meant to be left.
Snatched away from the betrothed,
By a woman of a past bereft.
Crept in, nay, invaded,
I must say in honesty; Although
More than partly the fault lies not with her,
But between the betrothed and me.
Demon in skin fair, the girl
My life was hers to do as she deemed fit.
Until the light bringer came, to places
Which were previously only moonlit.
The woman nursed, fed and loved,
The one of a slave's past life.
Broken chains can only be repaid,
By grateful servitude to her in time.
Hence the one decides,
On abandoning all vows and pledges.
For a dog may serve One ceaselessly,
But alas a human slave is more wretched.
May 2014 · 595
Seasons of Death
Arjun Tyagi May 2014
Barren, the earth beckons
Sole pair of feet treading in heat.
Respite is seldom found while
Dread, exhaustion and sweat are cheap.
Burnt heather, ashes for a bed,
A pillow of dead feathers.
What else must he do to rest
Save be abed in dust, the traveller.

A fall, showering of the abandoned
Leaves, children so dried.
Lifelessly dropping, hopeless,
From clutches of the mother tree, pried.
Poison intoxicating, sapping nature
And all there is, it's fallen bounty.
To seek rest amidst the fallen
In itself is not devoid of folly.

Spines, shivering in deathly embrace
Of ice and of all that is cold.
Paralysis of a different nature
Body begging for warmth lost and old.
Silence embalms the wild
The tame are shown no mercy.
For who dare put his eyes to rest
They may never again open, never see.

A beautiful ethereal death awaits
Those lulled by false enchantments.
Songs and whispers of ivy and moss
Trap innocents at river embankments.
Fruit and flower, vines and willows,
Dryads of the woods, deepening magic.
Slumber means to never stand again,
Death in solemn sleep, of course is tragic.
May 2014 · 496
A Selfish Request
Arjun Tyagi May 2014
Do not die before me.
Sweet one, I beg and I plead.
  For what is not a whole,
  May never be complete.
Mar 2014 · 650
Ma
Arjun Tyagi Mar 2014
Ma
Mother superior,
****** nurturer of a planted seed.
Embalming growth,
Reaped the fruit with an eyeful of dreams.
  Eternal gardener,
You have raised this fruit to a whole.
Life giver,
It has grown plump flesh and soul.
  Mother love,
I am what I was brought here to be.
Fear not,
For above all, your son I will be.
  Till death,
You will wish for your son to live on.
Need not,
For in life itself your name I will carry on.
  Mother believe,
Your lap has been my throne.
Choices gallore,
But I'd rather be with you, home.
Worry less,
Mother your boy will be a man.
Listen here,
He will always be there till the end.
Feb 2014 · 681
Acid Intimacy
Arjun Tyagi Feb 2014
Well worn, this path we tread;
a myriad kaleidoscope of gravel.
The darkest corner beyond the wall,
moonlit shadows concealing our travel.
  Let them fall, shed ****** tears, Mary incarnate,
moist the soil, so I may sow the now growing seed;
of Envy, Wrath of Pride such,
of Lust, Hubris and of Greed.
  Fine welts of nimble fingers,
reddening the newborn scratches on my chest.
If aware that intimacy is paid with blood,
I never would have touched your waist.
  A reflex, a conditional response,
is what I deem it to be.
Servility shown is wasted, for
pride cannot bow further, when already on bent knees.
  Disdain, distaste and disgust over
the fingerprints on your ****** skin.
Wipe away the invisible marks
with your sleeves as if they had never been.
  You step away, stomach churning,
at my sight; a black mass of acid.
Dripping hurt, sadness and unjustified desire,
the less cold-hearted might call me placid.
  Before inevitable departure, screaming obscenities,
at the burns I caused on your flesh,
allow me to separate your beliefs
from lies and follies caught in a mesh.
  Years I have ****** the venom,
burning my own, now charred heart.
Blackened, destroyed limbs and face,
if you remember ma cherie, I was flesh at the start.
  Nevermind though, how I became,
what I am forced to be.
Little lover of mine, stay away please,
before you burn in my acid intimacy.
Jan 2014 · 1.1k
Entity Unknown
Arjun Tyagi Jan 2014
When  silence and darkness fall,
night.
The Unknown under the bed does crawl.

The lights snuffed and switched,
off.
The Entity's forms twitch.

Under fatal delusion,
waiting.
A black mass of sheer illusion.

Whirling in self maintained,
confinement.
Matter scrambled, yet contained.

An Entity of some proportion,
considerable.
Unknown, it stalks with devotion.

Listen not, too carefully, at moments,
dark.
lest you wish to hear it's laments.

Oh how it cries, the weep,
haunting.
Ice in the veins to keep.

Beyond doubt, of any sort,
believe.
The Entity, it's patience, not short.

It dwells, it dwells,
resolute.
On fear it thrives and swells.

A call! Christ,Allah, God!
futile.
It savors in pleas distraught.

It crouches with deadly grace behind,
you.
Waiting for a scream amplified.

A belief now formed,
steadfast.
Shadows during the day are deformed.

Night only brings us,
closer.
Entity, pleasured while I, anxious

A shadow, a wraith, the identity,
Unknown.
All consuming darkness, the Entity.

Reader, reader, never look,
behind.
Your sanity, is at risk, mine it has took.

Ignore not, this sincere a plea,
warning.
For I, like you this moment, chose, to not believe.
Jan 2014 · 2.2k
Corporate Junkie
Arjun Tyagi Jan 2014
Panasonic* and Sony beeping
in custom made Reid & Taylor pockets.
A trade for a Rolex throned on his wrist in lieu of
once existent dreams, in now hollow sockets.

Adrenaline pumping before
high stakes meetings and brunches.
Calculating the dose of his choice of drug,
penthouse suites and timeline crunches.

Dizzy with ambition, painting
******* bleached canvasses.
Narcissistic laughter aimed to beguile others,
he, for whom his relaxants are stresses.

Dealing with the Devil himself,
power tainted and ill-gotten,
the realization that humans are not beyond sale;
in markets, mergers and acquisitions.

Recessions, Inflations, cruel overdoses
of risk, of danger unspoken.
And when he surfaces again to consciousness,
profits, losses both taken and broken.

Lost in the sewers filled with;
stock brokers and agents alike: the pawnors,
a haughty expression with green bills,
to score his ecstasy, capital owners.

Another dollar, another hit
never enough to sleep remembering the day.
A Corporate ****** scouring for riches,
a high, a trance not soon before long will sway.
Dec 2013 · 520
Walk
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
Step here in my shoes
Walk where these feet have been at
You will reach your Home
I did, do and will follow You.
Dec 2013 · 2.2k
From Rehab, With Love
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
The Trinity Hours, I open the fridge,
much like how between us, I created a bridge.
A row of flat Corona beers,
as flat, if not more like conversations when you were here.

I remember as I pick the bread knife
memories of a long departed past life.
I reminisce those shoddy arguments,
how the silver needles were just intoxicants.

Will you be happy now,
If I accepted your I TOLD YOU SOs?
Believe you me, regret is what I came back with
from the Rehab for the sick and addicted.

I lied awake at night,
cursing obscenities galore and cried.
Wishes for a repeated penultimate
hit of sweet ****** did not abate.

Missing both my Mary Janes,
stripped of all but poisoned veins.
I waited for Dr. Smith's prescriptions,
pseudo-trance, my stage for revelations.

Sunken eyes, then too blind to see
now look at silly internet memes.
Remembering how they made me laugh,
while you yelled on the phone you'd had enough.

I wish I had paid heed, when
the poison had been but a seed.
I wish I had lowered my own defense
when everything you said did not make sense.

Seven months and Seven days it took, finally
the doors of the Rehab from its hinges shook.
Let me out back to a shade of my former self,
this change without you is worthless.

Even though I am cured by societal norm,
I pretend to be, yet in my dorm.
Despite being free to roam the world,
this letter is dispatched from my own Rehab, with love.
Dec 2013 · 727
A Slave's Sonnet
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
An anteroom for his Mistress tended
By a man with empty smiles and sore aches
He slept in the corner while she the bed,
She was his all, his command, his heart-break.
For all her wanderings he never thought
About where she, leaving him, goes off to
A jealous inquisition did lead to naught,
The Mistress would pass without an adieu.
Always poised she, with her victorious pride
Given endless comfort of getting away
With all acts, omissions of wrong and right,
He, a mute never complaining, loving her each day.
   Relationships seldom come without a cost,
   Nigh impossible 'tis for a Slave to have it be lost.
Dec 2013 · 1.9k
The Glasgow Soprano
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
Nomine Christi Amen
gushing,  came a crescendo;
Tenor, Alto, Baritone and Mezzo,
along-with an angelic Soprano.

In *Christ's
Holy Name
she sang with those of Faith.
While snow-laden trees
falsely sheltered a human wraith.

Unlike some on the street,
his lips were cold but not complaining.
Two frozen crutches, his legs; yet
heart warm and with purpose, beating.

A cigarette in his mouth,
skin like the smoke, deathly white.
Discomfort was an easy price
for watching his lover tonight.

As the final notes passed,
of the Diminuendo, into the night;
the pews were left in a rush of haste,
by people eager for homely sights.

Slowly the Gabriel Choir also
departed to its own ways.
The silent Soprano singing to herself
at the right of God, in wait.

Out by the door, he came,
and held her in full sight.
The neon-lit cheap Cross, humming
songs of static to a drowsy night.

And not unlike the moths,
fatally attracted to an electric glow,
he trudged along inside, to her;
ache of cold bones lost in the snow.

Expanded pupils relaxed,
dilated to a semblance of normalcy.
As his stoic eyes adjusted,
his lover, was all he could see.

A moonlit shaft of dust-motes
played above her head.
Whilst she watched him approach, with
Neptune eyes of the Ocean-bed.

Fifteen steps of a distance,
and he came to the edge.
Existed nothing beyond this, save
two entwined breaths.

A soft parting of her lips,
almost soft as a whisper.
Much like the snow melting
at the passing of an unyielding winter.

Rosemary, Sage and Thyme,
odor of her skin, him it assaulted.
Aroused his senses, memories
of a Home long discarded.

You took your time,
complained the Soprano gently.
Your Daddy's gift ran out of gas,
he rebutted amused, mildly.

They left the Church, as ordinary
as the Sun, to eyes unwary.
But a keen observer would compare this companionship
to His and Magdalene's Mary's.

++

The Glasgow George Square,
above two heads, it looms.
Residential Avian families echoed their voices,
with soft caws, chirps and coos.

The Soprano sings a merry hymn,
an invitation to them, a debate.
Gladly did the residents accept, 'tis sufficient
to say the dialogue did not abate.

And whilst she sang her tune,
they replied in equal measure.
He looked into his empty cigarette holder,
wistfulness is seldom a pleasure.

A kiss on the cheek and a hand,
tender on her waist he kept;
I'll be sitting over there, Eve,
come when you are content.

He watched her then; the Soprano,
joyous yet somber as she sang.
Till the bell from the Church, in finality,
ten times it rang.

The dialogue it then ended,
with the Avian families eager for more.
For not many deliver them, from
their monologues in the cold.

She walked to him, steady
a child of gazelles and nimblest of men.
The aura of her pulsating radiance,
begging to enfulge them.

Outstretched hands, even
on plain Earth devoid of danger,
to those in love may feel like
a lifeline to grasp and reach a place safer.

He took her in, his arms
all the Sanctuary she needed.
A sober expression, not always
reflects that the soul in fact is elated.

They walked again, two souls in the streets
of Cochrane, Ingram and Miller.
What trouble is distance to a man's feet,
when another pair walks together?

St. Enoch's came and passed too,
so did Dixon Street and its leaves, strewn.
Till the lovers came to rest, at The Clyde
reflecting the newborn moon.

Night-time, self-proclaimed
sailors still pedaled and rowed.
While The Clyde, with its waters black, licked
the bridge across the road.

Care for a swim milady?
he chided with a boyish smile.
Amusing the Soprano now and then,
was indeed worthwhile.

Eve, he uttered, at a roll
of her eyes. His muse, her name.
Quick pecks on the lips
could put woodpeckers to shame.

Its cold she replied, Mona Lisa
smile hiding amusement unknown.
He led her away away from the breeze,
It was time to go home.

++

A glorious smell of familiarity,
came with the inevitability of Dawn.
Arms at ease around her waist,
her head tucked under his jaw.

Oi, he asked her to wake up, attempts
in futility, not always are of lost cause.
A soft moan and to press closer
was all he received for a response.

Oblivious, on purpose with
no heed to the workings of the world outside.
In ceaseless comfort of slumber,
wrapped around each other they did hide.

Warm of skin, warm of heart,
a bed warmed by nightly hours.
The Soprano and he, content
in their lovely little Glasgow bower.

Moons waxed and waned,
Suns rose and fell.
Every breath escaping their lips,
only promise it would foretell.

For a man needs not much, save
his Love, his God and his Peace.
The Soprano sang each morn, blessed by the Lord
his life, calm as the Clydian breeze.

The Song of Life went on for them,
each day the same as last.
The Glasgow Soprano sang till his death,
but her Voice he took with him as he passed.
Dec 2013 · 1.4k
Eve and I
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
Innumerable aeons ago,
in the unformed valleys,
on the barren land,
two beings were born.
  From the roots of the elm,
and through the earth,
raised as man and woman,
with flesh were they adorned.

Oh what a sight it was,
the first breath of life,
the start of two worlds,
both so deftly intertwined.
  And once formed,
they glanced at each other.
It was beauty infinite,
to their new-formed minds

The man being braver,
took the first step.
Unaccustomed to feet,
he swayed and staggered.
  The woman being gentle,
took the second step.
Reached tentatively to him,
and fell upon the heather.

Both lay upon the grass,
and contemplated the next move.
But of this they were sure,
one they must be from two.
  He stood up weakly again,
pulled her to her feet.
Thus they stood as one,
and trode upon the dew.

Unknown to them,
was a vast unexplored land
to which they hitherto went
walking together always.
  They did not stop,
fearing the giant expanse.
Dark as otherworldly nights,
bright as unseen summer days.

Treading together
they discovered wonders.
About the living land
and more about the other.
  The woman saw more,
as she was observant.
The man learned skills,
for he was stronger.

After many rises and falls,
of the great warm disk,
They arrived at a great cave
near the shores of the blue serpent.
  It welcomed them
with the warmth of endurance.
With sanctuary and a haven,
where they finally laid.

Soon the giant expanse,
parted and poured water.
Sooner, the warm disk,
became even warmer.
  Then trees bared themselves,
and the earth withered.
The breath of the air,
would cause them to shiver.

And through the seasons,
she observed and he learned;
all that they could,
of their serene world.
  He would rise with the sun,
bring berries and fruits.
She would feed them,
and thus life did unfurl.

Now they had all they wanted,
comfort, safety and a home.
As human tendencies go,
they moved to each other.
  He would often see her,
singing to the air.
She would often see him,
in their heavenly slumber together.

Here was a woman,
who could tame beasts.
Here was a woman,
who raised bounty from the earth.
  She would sing and dance,
and the flowers would bloom.
She would sing in the cave,
warming heart and hearth.

Wherever she went,
life would follow.
If there was none,
she would be a new mother.
  Life into trees,
life into bones.
Life she would pour,
whenever she would sing.

And before he knew it,
he could not breathe.
Without her voice,
he became weak.
  And so it went without doubt,
she was the one he wanted.
Much more than his life,
his mate, his Eve.

Ten moons later,
while sitting under a tree.
Said he to her,
his heart with her heals.
  Through emptiness, loneliness,
and through hurt and pain.
Through heat, through cold,
through fall, through rain.

Her voice pierces all,
all gloom and despair.
It sets this man free,
from his flesh-bound lair.
  She brings bounty,
of the earth to their dwelling.
Fruits, nuts and flowers,
oh, so sweet smelling.

Her words are commands,
to beasts and birds alike.
This man before her,
his heart too, she did strike.
  He has waited,
watched, wondered and awed.
The ethereal voice she possesses,
fire from a dragon's maw.

He has watched her,
be one with nature.
He has seen her,
walking hither and tither.
  Her hair shimmers,
in the moon like a blaze.
Cascading falls of black,
his eyes stay fazed.
  She could not be Earthly,
of this he was sure.
Made for a higher meaning,
by her, he was to be allured.
  This was intended,
to flourish and to live
He loved her so, the tamer of beasts,
nothing could take her away from him.

Stay still, like a stone, he said
so this man can caress you.
Let him come closer,
'tis time for what is due.
  And as their lips met,
the withered fall transformed.
Spring came forth,
all dead life morphed.

Unable to keep silent,
God himself came forth.
Planted an immortal orchard,
of Apples before the two betrothed.
  Said he to her then,
we must never go unto the garden.
Defiant, the bearer of life, the woman said,
unwise it is to ignore the fruits laden.

So she passed, having said that
while he was left with his cries.
For what good are pleas and somber begging
to deaf ears and blind eyes?
  And as her toes bore her weight,
she plucked the ripest of the fruit.
Whilst the man's unheard shouts,
all they were to her were moot.

And before his eyes,
his love withered and died.
Disobedience with Deathly price,
the Apple from her fist he pried.
  He savored the juice it spilled,
ecstatic revelry of immediate sorrow.
How could he have walked alone,
in now an unwanted tomorrow.

Thus it came to pass,
that Magna Mater and Pater ceased.
Parents to Kingdoms to come,
the original Sinners before their children-to-be.
  As I sit here and wonder,
of the lovely sin, ancient and arcane.
God pardon me tonight,
For my Eve, I would have done the same..
Dec 2013 · 664
Surrender Her unto Me
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
Who art thou
to pass judgment so?
Harsh and unthoughtful,
what do ye know?

I have wiped
the tears you gave.
Gods ye are, if
live by thine name.

For dishonor
is what you are mourning.
While it is her name I
set on mine lips each morning.

Haveth you not,
Created ample distance?
Haveth I, the fool
not displayed resistance?

Cursed are ye,
in blessed disguises.
Ye, who laugheth at
thine Ungodly surprises.

Why? I needeth ask
why must i be subjected?
To these plays of
Satan your mate-in-bed.

Blind me, ye Cruel Ones,
for I, if ever stray,
thine throats shall
be mine prey.

Pariahs, Messiahs,
will not deliver.
The Absolution of thine name
as your hatred I shall utter.

Giveth my beloved,
surrender her unto me.
Unless thine aim,
is to faceth a lover's fury.

Throw, I pray, throw
thine jests Earthways.
But then watch me at mine death,
when I climb your celestial pathways.
Nov 2013 · 736
Upholstery
Arjun Tyagi Nov 2013
This upholstery
my heart,
Padding my sleeves,
on display for you to see.

One look
over here,
You could have furnished,
before it was tarnished.

I worked
beyond notice,
mending and stitching,
hands never flinching.

The lines
and the patterns,
I deigned them such,
they waited for your touch.

The upholstery
now remains,
locked in the attic,
beyond you, fashion fanatic.
Nov 2013 · 661
The Seven Haikus
Arjun Tyagi Nov 2013
A falling footstep
lagging behind in slow time
how far shall it reach?

A white halo there
Abysmal luminescence
will the journey end?

Broken bushes here
burnt shrubberies over there
where is the gardener?

He must have tended
these dead flowers once in bloom
is the halo safe?

As it draws on me
a question was realized
am I sent to burn?

To lay in the pyre
a funeral bed is set
will the ashes stay?

The gardener comes
a sweep of eternal hands
another dead flower.
Oct 2013 · 599
The Girl in the Library
Arjun Tyagi Oct 2013
The library is not familiar to me
but I can walk blindfolded.
I have known better places
yet I can be in peace.

For it is not the books,
it is nothing else.
Other than what I love,
that girl hidden from my looks.

She glides across the aisle
and grabs her little book.
Like a nimble ballerina,
she spins along in style.

I leave each row behind
stacked with those tomes of memories.
A predator would be put to shame,
if she knew what was on my mind.

Close yet careful I would look at her
a surreal dream in reality.
Is she but a fragment of my thought?
I know there is naught an answer.

Eyes which peek and glance
every second an infinite.
And if she ever caught me looking,
the red on her cheeks would dance.

How I would give
how much more I would take,
to tell her of my being;
for the girl in the library, was the only motive.
It's about a girl I met in my college library.
Oct 2013 · 1.1k
The Page
Arjun Tyagi Oct 2013
I once held a pen in a calloused hand,
a pen which I compared to you.
With that pen a story was wrought,
a page of my life through and through.

Much like the dying sun,
there is brilliance before it sets.
With my heart I'd say it was the same for me,
the page was as beautiful as it gets.

I wrote and I wrote,
I wrote till my hand bled.
The pen; never-ending as it was,
brought the page to life when the book was dead.

The pen gave birth to feelings,
so ethereal, yet so tangible.
Feelings never written in the book again,
every other page jumbled and illegible.

Unlike the previous pages,
this one wasn't scribbled upon.
This was a piece of endless art,
crafted by that pen each and every waking dawn.

The pen moved, it glided across,
writing, shaping  those words.
And as the page filled with her,
It was then I realized what really hurts.

It was the fear, it was the scratch,
writing the closure of the beginning.
I would fear the ink was running out,
it would seem like the page was already ending.

And for all the joy it brought,
and in all my persistent revelry,
I had soon forgotten of the ink's transience,
and of my malicious ecstasy.

It spread, oh lord it did,
like a poison in these veins.
The page soaked too much of the ink,
it ruined itself to the pen's disdain.

The page became fuller,
with the wan and wax of the moon.
Even when I would not write,
sprawled across were pretty words of doom.

And as it so ended,
with the page having no more space,
The pen, untimely, was forced to stop,
with the book shut on my grave, derived of any trace...

— The End —