her contours are what everyone yearns for
perfect and full with inimitable symmetry
she's the prize at the end of our flights of fancy
when deprivation is erased and forgotten

that walk is pure physical bliss that kills the blues
and stirs long-forgotten desires and  emotions
she rolls around as only she knows how to
and her rich bust bounces and dances happily

these are the things that we have always imagined
an aesthetic figure moulded in heaven amid music
from the depths of our deep and unihibited longing
to be held close and cherished in tender moments

woman, the ground you walk on is awed by it all
it sighs so softly you never detect its abandon
lady, your attributes are the things that define you
especially that beauty from life's bouquet of surprises

aaah, the pain of the absence
and the futility of the longing
how these two start to linger
and grow bitterer and longer
as relentless time trudges on
to the inevitable conclusion
that everything is a shadow
slippery and elusive to the end
these things were never meant to be
except just as impressions
of sweet possibilities
and shaky memories
of things we think we did

infatuation
ravages my gullible heart
as i am entrapped by the words
of a mouth full of artifice

dancer that you were, you embraced the breeze
and rode its draughts like a lyrical butterfly
but soon your little dance too was done
and your dazed children wailed in the ill wind.
you succumbed to the unknown call of the cosmic bound,
thus lost and stunned we stared at the unfathomable void:
as the erudite sage said, life is about gains and losses
but your going was like a sneaky blow below the belt
now that you're gone i've come to know the bitter loss
of a gifted life nipped in the bud before fruition time
and just how bewildering possibilities erased can be
i know too the cost of it all on torn and tattered mourners
but life does proceed in this way sometimes

Mother of the children
            I'm here
Yes I'm here, but I'm so tired
I have a knife that's sharp and indiscriminate

W hen he of the itchy fingers is around
keep an eye on your fowls and your goats!

When he warns you about your fowls and goats
He's being evasive; I'm the village stud, ask your wives!

Mother of the children
            I'm here
Yes I'm here but I'm so tired
I have a knife that's sharp and indiscriminate

Sleep, baby sleep, and be silent
I don't need any water; your father is here
He's sweeping my nether  lands with a broom that tickles me
So sleep, baby, sleep, and let your mother be a queen tonight

Mother of the children
            I'm here
Yes I'm here but I'm so tired
I have a knife that's sharp and indiscriminate

i'm the blue sky
with a swallow careering around it
i'm the void
that has room for you no matter what
i'm the blue sky
dotted with fluffy clouds
on some lazy afternoon
i'm the blue sky
waiting for evening to come
and you're the star
that lights me up on dark nights
see how i blossom
and how you tickle the smiles out of me
we emblazon the universe with soulful bliss
and we're for ever riding the wings of time