Walking along the bank
    of the  prancing village brook,
lined with screwpines
in full bloom spreading
                  musky scent
                 and shamelessly imitating the color of  your skin,
thinking of you all along,
on the way to Krishna temple
you frequent,
I see a surge-
a bevy of giggling village belles,
your ***** friends,
march forward,
holding the hearts of young men to ransom,
teasing me on the sly,
for courting you so ardently.
Who can stop them,
a barrage breach of
Cupid's darlings,
tailing me by chance.

   My eyes searched everywhere,
                    but but missed you so much,
     today they miss,
the crown jewel they deserve,
to be in the middle,
that can be only you always!

On the imaginary crown of them
you would have shone,
added charm and embellished
their victory lap,
in the guise of temple visit,
to worship the Lord, lover nonpareil,
whose love life is our lore.

              On long black tresses
they wore garlands of jasmine,
    can't help pity their haste
and muddled taste,
    you would have told your brood,
how jasmine would have felt,
     unless perfectly adorned on hair, those
incomparable blessing in fragrance.

each word is chosen that the whole may sing
in clearest harmony with measure fair
so that past winter we may see new spring

we early learn the value that we'll bring
to the fresh task our hopes are more than air
each word is chosen that the whole may sing

of coming magics and the truths that cling
to every heart in times of hard despair
so that past winter we may see new spring

throw out green shoots and let new branches swing
on the young trees light will once more be clear
each word is chosen that the whole may sing

in tones that reach the bird on highest wing
of better life and times in good repair
so that past winter we may see new spring

and spirits lightened all our hearts shall ring
with jubilation at relief of care
each word is chosen that the whole may sing
so that past winter we may see new spring

comprehending it for the first time, struck
numb and wretched. uncomprehending
shivers rib joy with age--
agendas churn
even as a salty dryness barely clears--
eyes contort in livid forms of love

vacant carols fail to mute calamity,
though once a bluebird sang at snow
abstracted from the core-- fly away
from a season's playlist monoculture,
reinvent this home, audacious now
to be a courage happiness
for youthful eyes no longer simply young

"Stop thief" I yelled out chasing her,
            she stopped, hugged and kissed me deep-
                                                   consummating her theft.

Every time she rocked the boat,
              he was firm like a rock,
                       then, what left to do was
                                        gently rocking  her to sleep.

Astounding things, await you, but
happen only on the stage of mind,
beyond that is the realm boundless,
all cosmic magic, true abode of everything.

Donning my costume, I am a string tuned,
expectant to start the play I wrote for myself,
on  stage, when the curtain will go up
only that magical moment decides ,

The daily grind is a mere repetition
from morning till dusk and beyond,
In between I peep through the window
and get a glimpse of mind's sky, star studded,

Loneliness my mistress, is a daily visitor,
an age old and true love who never fails to please,
kissing deeply on my lips a few times she leaves,
only to come back and take me to bed with her,

Strangers become sweethearts, on my stage,
in a play we act our roles, emote, overwhelmingly
subtle moments gifted,  I shed my worn out self, a stranger here,
*my dramatic monologue rings out loud, "What are you, life?"