Like a flower
a thorn too
is a  wish
that has a
point to make,
it stubbornly
sticks out
awaiting it's
chance to *****.

Her long manicured fingernails were deeply painted  red,
one would think  it was just a little ago ,had they let much blood.
Her dark painted eyes lend the uncanny look of a wily spider,
but her wild, heart he felt, beats passionately against his chest.
Visibly intoxicated, she said his 'words taste like mellow wine'!
Like in a duel, she was crystal gazing what would eventually happen

Would the wizard have his way,win over the spider woman?
Or is it the spider woman who'd finish her prey,after mating as usual?
"In the labyrinth we are," he calmly poured the heady wine yet again,
"We live once, there isn't any way out,let's enjoy this bargain
who enticed and brought us face to face is nowhere to be seen
Don't bother, play the game, forget the goblet of poison, then it's fine"

ONE shadow ruefully told the other ,
it has fallen in love with,
defying the logic the shadows
are supposed to follow,
not to be deceived by darkness
or light,that creates what one perceives.

"How long we've been marking time
trying in vein,to break loose from the
patronizing glare of lights, that kept
us slaves of it's love.Good riddance!"

Two bright bulbs, utterly tired, of burning
so long,which made it possible for the shadows
day dream,slowly shut their eyes in weariness,
oblivious of the wild talk of the shadows
that reflected a perfect vision of fallacy,

No one any more would see, even a penumbra
of either of the shadows,in that darkened heaven.

From one corner of my eye,
iridescent sparks of love
involuntarily fly,
ignite the dormant suns,
yearning for a dawn,
within your lovely eyes;
overwhelmed by joy, they
light up my inner skies.

Either by the curl of your lips,
that suggests a perfect fit
with mine, keep  waiting,
or with the sensual swing
of your curved alabaster hips,
that display gay abandon,
you set flames to fireworks,
that in my veins create tides
and set fire to my *****,
that won't easily be quelled for a
while: till that time we both decide.

A colourful butterfly,
male of the species,
utterly romantic,
in his pattern of behaviour,
says it all simply
by the  his style of flight.
It is a kind of skiing
up in the air, as if on ice,
He practises it,  to tail her,
a duty he quite earnestly
took upon himself.

She is visibly pleased about
all the attention she commands,
revealed by  his spectacular aerobatics
her every response, tells it.

With his jittery moves,
he gives her good cover
from other pesky suitors,
with loud painted wings.

By flitting right to left
and then the reverse
he smears colors on her wings
his inadvertent gift, of love,
in the process of the courting ritual.

With his passion, he anoints her,
with all the fervour he could muster,
you'd see him tremble,
with uncontrollable delight.
as he defies the rules of the wind,
hovers over her as if she is vanquished,

Only she,sees it with a pair of different eyes:
"Love makes us both victorious,in this game"

Though tried his level best, to pry open
the tough oyster with such might,he gets
just a glimpse of the smile of the pearl
so rare within. which clearly indicates
it's liking; love for  light than darkness

But the oyster,  so adamant, refused to part,
it jealously holds the pearl enclosed,within,
along with the bitter taste left in his mouth,
he learns a precious lesson, in the way worst possible.

A great one, from the oyster's closed book of life,
on possession and renunciation at right time,
managing frustration and letting go graciously.

1.
The old lady sits on the garden bench, a fixture,
from the days so far, colonial times to be precise,
thickly painted green, coat after coat,that covers up age,
after the incessant lashing of copious monsoon rains,this evening
the bench has a secret gleam, as if  it's age has been washed away for ever.
2.
Her hair, resplendent silver;the children playing on the sand bed
in the open space in front of  her bench, stand wondering:
far removed from realities familiar,she seemed,"Is she real?"
The old lady plays with a child that ran to her and embraced,
curious to touch her hair, happily it springs on to her lap,
her starched Sari gets crumpled,to it'smother
the old lady softly says"Don't bother children need space,
freedom and  care, love his smile, don't want to see it wither"
3.
She looks at the flowerbed and smiles to herself,
as if she remembered her own dreams a day too far.
The old garden bench, senses a magic,with a start it wakes up
from it's slumber and begins to prattle,"Yes, it's really her,
remember the passion filled kisses she exchanged  with her sweetheart,
when darkness came stealthily,like a crafty lover out to rob hearts,
right here on my lap, at a time love was a scent wafting low in the air
Where has he gone? I now wonder,a lot of monsoon clouds
burst up on me limitless quantities of water,after that"
4.
A wind so strong, like the hands of time ruffled
the leaves of the giant banyan tree,that stood sentinel,
leaves  started a cheerful dance, reminiscent of the play of life*
Perhaps the night the death waiting on the wings is little disappointed.