She is a true blue living legend
displaying  many colors of love
there is no doubt about it,if only
you know where to look at.
But wait,in the way she expresses it
everything  would get reversed!
if one concludes she is demure,
think twice before deciding.
She did invent a new tongue
entirely of monosyllables!
write it in high  hieroglyphics
none could ever aspire to decipher.
Don't forget to take this fact in to account
in bed, she is a whirlwind
unlike  most Indian brides,
who wear shyness as an armour
tradition prescribes for brides.

"I easily forget names" his confession rings loud.
She smiles as if she knew this all the while,
She is a woman who forgives, like nature.
She loves his big hands and the promise
Of caresses to sow goosebumps all over
The infertile earth.Suddenly fecundity arrives.

Then, the scents, pheromones wafts to his mind
Speak the same language in different accents
At times it is read as the whispers of winged desire.
The purple hues of arousal, and if read from an angle
Different,it spells sin in black, in calligraphic letters

The flow he is, that dances through hills and dales
Wind and water romancing red earth and ocean.
Where once blood spilled in fierce battle with foes,
A tree full of flowers now smile,a magical moment of life!

She is the drop that oozes under the moss, gathering speed
The fog that spreads and embraces the extended woods.
She defies the limits of mind and touch ebullient galaxies.
She is the field of ripe corn, mellow yellow, gently swaying.
The seeds she collects and keeps safely in her living repository.
Whatever she spills becomes her on which tomorrow smiles.
At the window wind knocks,breaks the egg shell of a dream.
She emerges, opens the door, finds him gets charged once more.

It was raining outside, an auspicious hour, like blooming lotus,
Time to conduct fertility rights,for seeds to come alive.
He feels the stirrings nature creates, arranges all
Necessary things, he towers above all
He is the sun that spreads his warm rays around.
She is the fecund red earth to be sowed  at nature's behest.
The horns blow aloud, she heard, and closed her eyes.
Felt like a flower, ready to open her petals for a bee folding wings.

There was a young man  in Travancore,
who joined a program to control anger,
The instructor, a sultry, bold miss
suggested, "Let's start with a kiss"
Her stunning  range upended the ******.

To me she clearly sounds more
like a joyful bamboo thicket,
the only pet of this gentle breeze,
swaying in self abandonment.

Holding her  just a heart beat away
I could hear my heart's wonder,
"Haven't her whispered words allude
on something really profound, effulgent,
beyond the realm of both life and death?"

"Sing that lullaby, I identify you with
when our kids were young, instead.
It's indeed perfect as a fine spring board
to fly past the net, time has spread" I said
"Landing gently in that dream space
of permanent twilight, defying death"

Your kiss sparks a fire,
the gun powder in me flares,
triggering fire works.

1
An ant rants
when left behind
by the greedy mates
who carry together
for the rainy days,
a luscious carcass
that was a grasshopper
(with hopes and dreams
that kept it hopping
not long before)
"******* all,
they wouldn't wait
even for a moment
for those less inclined
to greed and avarice"
The ant fallen by the
wayside frets and fumes
burst out  in flames
with rightful indignation
and anger.
2.
A ghost pants
while climbing the
steep gravel path
leading to the cemetery
he chose to visit that day,
"***** *******
couldn't make the gradient
little more convenient,
for a weary ghost
compelled to visit
burial grounds at
lonely midnight hours
that too by foot"
prattles the agitated ghost!
3.
A gentle wind chants
effusively like
a prophet,about the
nature of all things
material, in the past
present and future.
"Nothing lasts for ever my dear,
except pure consciousness
the absolute,that manifests as
all that we experience,here
in this transit camp we call life,
fly, fly till you embrace
nothingness, the essence,
on the wings of the winds
of change, reach the destination
beyond the limits of body and mind"
4.
The ant to which was revealed
the futility of illusory existence
lets go it's chase,knowing
it doesn't make sense
for a carcass to be, soon
to chase another.
He takes a new path
decides to go it alone
all the way beyond darkness.
A firefly he becomes,
liberation personified,
Enlightenment suddenly lights
the dark undulating sea
of ignorance gathered through lives.
5.
The ghost, (an other name of past)
sits on a tombstone relaxing,
decides to dump the routine
of haunting, stalking the weak
midnight visitations et al.
He grows wings at will
dons the garb of a dark angel,
on his way to gloomy light,
the next step to peace.
6.
Swishing  wind, chimes it's message
"This moment has already gone
hang on to the consciousness
(that fill all the vacuum of universe)
till hitching on to the moment next,
and if in the mean golden time
one can somersault,
to the absolute beyond,
go for it
if having a deep yen
to be immortal.

I sure miss you here,
(In the hope that
you miss me too)
And if you don't,
I don't know
where this narrow path
through dense woods
will take me at the end.
No way, I could go back
to the begining when
my hope is there in the
journey's end.

Presumptions, we think
would have no thorns to fear,
but cause  vein jumps
again and again that may prove
the grapes were sore after all.

Every wish prompting one
to hit the road, often with
no rhyme or reason, would
have underlying conditions,
though unseen from where one starts.
Why, are we afraid to speak openly
how the journey would end
even when we set out so excited?

On your wall beyond the reach
of  my eager eyes are sketches
still incomplete;
that may break or make me.
And what it does to you then
is an idea vague in my imagination.

Time limits every single rainbow though
It's sweep binds the horizon end to end,
As the light slowly fads,this illusion dissolves,
And darkness stares the sky on it's starry eyes!

Each rainbow color is derived from the  sedate white!
If white can do this, what wouldn't be possible in colors!
But billowing darkness before long fulfills it's desire.
And the morning blush again will wash all darkness off.
Moving clouds pass  their messages to me aloud.
In cryptic script doodled  in light and rumbling sounds.
A wonderful display on the dark curtain of clouds!

Look at me, I am still here to make you see what
You have never seen before your curious eyes!
Clouds churn darkness and light to find what does emerge,
I do see specks of rainbows frothing in it's cauldron!

Life is a change continuous, like the days of torrential monsoon,
I am with the winds and water, in the chiaroscuro of clouds,
A rainbow with an illusory nearness, allowing you to touch,
As it happens it's gone, becomes one with light and darkness.

On her warm lap the cat sits
smugly without any fuss,
yet she could sense it's little secret
well concealed,  just to please her;
the expression of happiness
on it's face is a mere make -believe.
It's fluorescent eyes involuntarily dart
to the cozy corner that beacons it.
To the moonlit end of the courtyard
where her husband sits lost to the world.

She feels cheated yet again.

On an opulent curved dome
Of a proud white mushroom
An enigmatic, clear, single drop
Well formed, eager, quietly sit.

Wonder what and what it is up to now-
A tear drop shed in pain by a lonely fairy,
Or a stray drop of untimely rain, futile,
A memory lapse,a cloud somehow had?

What if it's a disillusioned universe,
Willfully collapsed,due to it's own weight,
Reduced to a miniature and still in flux,
Wanting to see a new dream altogether!

Sitting like a king on his throne, it reflects,
The limitless sky on it's upturned single  eye!

Waiting perhaps for the rising purple morning sun
to give an offer, to evaporate and be back in the cycle.

1.
Show me your inky night
and dreaming darkness,
the passing clouds, moonlit,
wind driven, impassioned,
that never would know where
they wound culminate,
or what transformations
will take place between the
nebulous begining and the end
as they speed through as if
they are programmed to perform
feats that move the wheels forward.
2.
Show me the constellations magnificent,
that baffle me every time I stare,
countless stars in your milky way
like a  progression, dying or being born,
some glittering, some death pale,
red, blue or any hue one could imagine,
and the endless mystery that envelops,
all the wondrous things, making' being'
as a part of 'nothingness' eternal,
one in which "Maya"*unfolds as apparitions.
3.
Show me,how you drown me in  your
boundless love that makes
every moment born, transcend
beyond black holes of deaths
and cycles of births connected
like tunnel of wormholes.Make me listen
the subtle music being conducted within
every tiny spec, that takes part in this
eternal ecstatic dance of the sublime.
4.
Show me your magical might,
that would make me both,
Schrodinger's cat alive, in it's playful self,
and simultaneously in a sleep like death,
existing while it is non existent,
and one with everything in this multiverse
dead , dying, alive or emerging from gloom,
all at once, while, reposing  
within a consciousness, limitless.

He dreamed he was Sappho's one true friend,
whom she trusted to share her amorous secrets,
And soon this revelation; his point of no return !
He longed to be a woman, to let her make love to him!
Is it her body, soul or poetry,don't ask him
what made him truly crazy,triggering unnamed pleasures
The other part of him, in love with himself, relentlessly protests,
"My desire for her is that of  a man to a woman"

In every passion filled story of love,there is a river of fire
to cross, a challenge to to take up with a 'do or die 'spirit
Love puts one in dilemmas without resolve, and observes,
declares  one as a winner or a failure,  at the long last!

A life steeped in a fantasy, even in sleep,he is entangled
in hopeless love,which makes him a martyr, victim or hero
When he wakes up, he dreams, he'll bring about lasting peace.
By reading Sappho, till the time he decides it's enough!

You know how-don't ever tell me you don't
How I love the sun rays play with the cloud
As I curiously look up, I clearly see me falling
Through the swaying foliages of a cloud tree
Frolicking with the philanderer wind tickling her.
Sowing goosebumps you think, as falling raindrops
While she wishes she wouldn't respond to such
                                           frivolous machinations.
Is it love?
She gets no answer.The day marches on
an illusory ground, not worried about  THE END

Falling through the space, I see a sky full of holes.
Absence in presence and presence clouding absence
This, nobody ever takes notice.
                                                    An invisible particle
Of matter yet to be discovered,
I was stardust for a while,
I was falling,
Then I was quantas of energy
Without a given name, that wanted
To be on the move, singing,
While there is still  a song within.
Yes I was falling.
I confess: every night , I was curious about the moon's routine
Even on those nights she kept me waiting in the darkness guessing
"Woman, by spurning my love , you destroy light legitimately  ours".
The love I only kept,  for your silver lashes that pleases me!
I was falling:
On the face
Of the moon
I saw it's
        Reflection.

I was falling
All alone,from
Your memory
Like the
                Crinkled
                     Petal
                          Of a dead
                                   Flower.

Under the spell of the milky way's surge
an illusion  past a zillion  light years,
among a million things dull and bright
flashing messages like crazy fireflies,
all the time demanding my attention,
how did, just you became my cynosure?
As I sit amazed like a kid on an ocean shore
foolishly start to analyze, without knowing
how to go about it, except dreaming  in poetry,
my eyes catch the same  galaxy in my veins
in your eyes churn, to catch the essence of this spell.
And I realize : you too are like me,  puzzled
about this magical conspiracy of stellar configuarations
that make the star dust within us attract each other.

Darkness in waves, he finds in this ocean,
All round his world, even at high noon.
While seeking light in that dark continent,
In her eyes, a surprise; he encounters sun!

A succulent fruit, I desire, yet strange,  never wish to eat,
my love, you've  ever been, breathtakingly bewitching!
How couldn't I wake  up to this truth sooner, I wonder,
being too aware, perhaps that this heart has no replacement.

The only ship in the angle of my vision
seems to be still, as if cleverly painted above
the placid waves, that reject all agitations
near the shore I stand, a conspiracy perhaps!

No way I can tell if the ship moves away
or impatiently steers towards the port's embrace;
perhaps  in keeping my spirit to espouse ambiguity.

Just a morning jogger from a planet far,
I am nobody to judge, still I am curious-
that vessel with an  uncertain, navigational plan,
Isn't it me?Am I reaching anywhere, tell me.

I can see, none seems to expect it to come in
or go away and hide itself as a dot in distant horizon,
none who did bid it farewell, too is not to be seen.
Where have all gone, leaving no clue behind,
making it difficult for  one to create dreams.
How  so quickly time did erase all evidences,
which rendered goings and comings insignificant!

Is that static state, an illusion, a metaphor for life?
None is here to answer such questions as the world
has gone too far from there, to a space uncertain.

The port is busy as usual, any day it could be.
I wait for something to happen, will the ship
come to life astonishing me and move again?
I listen, the wind that blows from far horizon,
tells salty tales, tries in vain, again and again,
to recite the fish songs from deep sea blue down.

An age old chair, in seasoned teak wood
carved, a perfect work of art, nothing less than
a masterpiece, and a  reminder of so much past,
sat regally before our wondering eyes, tempting
on the central court yard of my  ancestral home,
where generations lived.
                               Wanting to sit like my grandpas of yore
I found a carpenter, perhaps the last one for this work
who understands the air that surrounds the chair.
We discussed the concept,
design and the kind of wood
it has to be  made,to create a replica
to bring back the grandeur of times past.
But then, found  not an easy task  it is
"Do you deserve it ?" the bearded
carpenter, was so blunt in his skeptic stance!
He  puzzled me  with his questions
Yet we were keen to give it a try.

The adamant carpenter relented
after many sessions of questions
and answers, perhaps my passion
did the trick, his eyes made me believe.
He promised to make me a chair
(The kind none would dream in this age)
as if it's a mission divinely assigned,
"You need to change a lot to deserve it"
he insisted, suggests a series of
purification rights  "for your confused soul"

"To fit  in to a chair like this , fulfill
all it's  demands"in my ear he whispered
as if I am the chosen one for an ancient  throne.

An  antique chair shaped by the imagination
of my distant ancestors, now changes me
and without slightest  resistance I submit;
would I ever know what is happening?

pink pepper berries,
invite to pluck and partake;
at one's peril of course.

I thought I've seen the light, all of us assiduously seek,
though in a flash,for only an ethereal moment perhaps.
I yearned to catch that gleam in my wavering words,
so that I can keep it in your lovely eyes  where it belongs,
wasn't I right, in thinking so, only your eyes can tell me now.
I eagerly peer in to those dark eyes when you read my verse,
the magic happens ,my being beats in unison with that light, dissolves

You tenderly carve, day and night
my heart with your chisel, sharp, incisive
as if it's a block of alabaster, at your disposal
chosen to create your one true masterpiece.
I believe in you,and submit, why? I can't really tell
Isn't it true love, that transcends limits of thought?

I let you do it as I can see  it pleases you the most,
after the moment your eyes had fallen on mine first
and stood still; I saw a divine  excitement on your face.

Is it pleasure or pain?I can't answer that question
I love you, and want you to do what pleases you the most.
My muse said, "Don't let her do this, she doesn't know
it's true worth, she'll ruin it in her, enthusiasm without limits"
I said in a whisper "I've hopelessly fallen in love, for ever"

I'd be your monument of whatever, success or failure,
I feel  the forces of nature that decide what it turns out, at last
and I listen to the sound of hammer on the chisel and patiently wait.

Her spider eyelashes intensely exude,
an irresistible charm though sinister-
when they flutter, desire in waves spread,
it's gleam, he the hypnotised moth seeks,
dashing straight in to her invisible web of deceit,
seeking an instant nirvana, only to dissolve  in darkness.

The panther's blazing eyes scrutinize,
stare at him with an ambiguous interest,
her rough tongue licks him clean
when amorous longings finally ebb.

White fizzy
moonlight
overflows.

She was correcting
one
       by
           one
all the mistakes of her past
with an eraser and pencil
sitting in a bleak room
painted  clinical  white.

Alone in this forest, away from all distractions
I've been trying to learn by heart the  verse, immortal
that speaks  in clear voice,on  every secret of the story we are,
But in each attempt, I found myself forgetting the  lines passed earlier,
when I reach the lake of total silence at the point of culmination.

"Where are you truth?where are you essence,light?"I cried out,
and thought that  the resultant echo has got it all wrong,
it really sounded odd.But I had crossed the point of no return.

But when I listened, intensely with my ears turned inwards
it sounded perfect"I am the verse immortal, the heart chants"

An original creation, that's what  you are
in vibrant colors nature carefully assembled,
as you sashayed through your time,till here
now all across the front page one can see you
arousing  pleasure that moves me deeply,
done in bold sweeps of a brush immersed in joy
making onlookers stand agape, thrilled
mumbling inanities as none has the grasp
of the quicksilver aesthetics that rules you.

And I, obscure , at the best like a crop circle
done in the secret hours after midnight,
or a cryptic mural on a dull wall, long past it's prime
doodled by an interplanetary traveler gone astray,
a drawing in grey fading slowly in to oblivion,
yet to be deciphered is the benediction,
it carries from light years far away,
it will be gone soon as the light from galaxies far
want to make it their own, little by little each night
Am I not transient  and  to be forgotten soon?

But you are steadfast and adamant
very rooted in your reasoning
sprung from a center devine, we both
claim together.
                         "Am I not a woman and lover first?"
Your eyes, gleam, exuding  a timelessness that speaks to me.
"I would only dream of lying naked under your
sweet heaving heaviness, to receive the nectar,
the transient ecstasy that gifts me the precious seed
that'd grow to heights immortal,on the bank of the milky way"

"Aren't you now tired of that green?
different from the zeitgeist once was
the ****** pulsation existed all along with me!
I can see it in the movement  of yours
when I  deep kiss you, not there, you are!
it's too long, our liaison, my love listen,
now it's time for a change, haven't you
seen the clouds in quick changing formations?
Yes, rest you need and a period of leisure
would do you good.You have to don a hue
to suit to to the mood, and yellow it is"
The setting sun,languidly to the leaf said aloud.
She felt the relief, she unhurriedly received
his words  purple tinted.pointing the direction.

The mountain wind, when the leaf  was green,
an intense lover, moved her,always.
A leaf callow and green in the wind,
passion personified, during the gale she was
the aggressive partner, demanding more,
"You are hanging here for long,on this branch,
knowing all, now time to let go, hear the music
permeating through dust and clouds and lives
transform yourself, you have danced enough
with me here, change pace, let go, begin
a journey new and find, what the cosmic hum
tells to every single cell, and what's in the end,
get ready to take newer forms from now on my love"

Wind took her by hand and she let go every thing
and naked to the soul, she jumped in to the deep below,
a valley, in ferment, flowers, fruits and leaves
in abundance, stood with bated breath,
beckoning, welcoming, cheering the fallen leaf,
the last dance it was,with the wind and sun,
in whispers the wanton wind told her" time to go,
feel light and explore, discover the secrets still left"

Earth, red and fertile was much pleased, smiled at her,
"Come down beloved, here I lie in wait, impatient,
this is your bed, not a minute late you are, here
as before in the appointed hour,you are aware
at any time you have to end up as the salt of the earth,
you'll love it here as much you did on a flowering branch,
bit by bit like the fragments of a cloud in blue sky,
you will become one with me; the fecund muddy earth,
new seeds with a vision encrypted inside will fall on you
get nourished by what your love donates and would sprout.

Nurture those lovely creatures love breeds..

Two moving liquid eyes,
kept admiring you both
contented, happiness-drunk
-a delicate filigree dragonfly,
when you both were lost,
in the warmth of love,new found,
melting and flowing, together
in the entwined  patterns of hearts.

Like a  rainbow hued butterfly,a guest
that suddenly appears announcing,
days of warmth, mirth and laughter,
something was flitting like a flash,
around you fluttering it's silver wings,
making you go crazy with desire,
already enamored with each other
beyond even your comprehension!

In the pitch black screen of night sky
fireflies dancing in formations never seen,
reflected in your wondering eyes,
drawing  sketches, that look like like  electric maps
love create, with accelerated heart beats.

Do you realize what alchemy of hearts makes it
possible for love to transform in such a manner?

Love in it's moments ethereal, clearly reflect,
the true mind of nature, do you care to take note?
Don't ever **** those delicate creatures, that appear,
love in it's deepest yearnings, breeds and keeps.

Does time suddenly come to a stand still?
At certain times, time just feels like a concept
that has no meaning, even going backwards!

She parks her car and sashays out, as if she
has never been frustrated with her life!
Dressed in a boldly patterned dress, she waits.
She looks more like a fixture in nature, a sculpture
that stood so long in a public place, not adulated,
bearing beating sun, snow and rain, yet so fresh
as if newly made, pleasant in a way illusory
her marked chutzpah,evidently intact.

At the park gate he stands, in a past he is lost,
peering at her face from afar, with a keenness
that doesn't seem to be normal, he hesitates
time has turned it's wheel s much yet it seems
a stand still to him,"Would one learn from life?"
he mulls over  as he invites a smile on his face
while walking over to meet her, the moment
of epiphany, he is sure and wants to cherish it for ever.

A scowling scare crow,
Weather beaten one, bleached clean.
Stoops down as if it's scared.

A randy beetle,
circles a closing lotus;
nightly paramour.

I caught the glad eye you gave me by chance,
as I realize I mark the moment with a smile,
you, mirth quotient high,caught my eyes as well,
this, it strikes me is more than mere chance!

It's a warm sunny day I didn't have any plan,
to meet someone like this and fall for her at once.
Life keeps so much unexplained, but we aren't aware
the roots of karma is so long, too tangled to discern.

Swift wind  goes past shaking trees, singing tunes,
ripe fruits get caressed by the wind, some fall too,
fruits of your actions invite you from afar with it's scent,
do your deed and walk on,  fruits will chase you from behind.

I sit and wonder at times, in life what lasts, at the end?
even the fleeting moment effulgent, has  deep  impact,
in a moment of candor you lovingly pat my cheeks,
we forget all else, who we were,  and melt like wax.

Stardust in my bones has music from far away light years,
in your core you still keep a ray of light from long past,
it's effect is a wave in my veins, I feel each  moment,
what lasts is the wave that binds us as one and transcends.

Her curvaceous **** was bootylicious and  fit,
Yet she was desperate for a 'Brazilian **** lift'
The bootiologist was quite well versed,
Still, the procedure proved to be accursed,
The Kim Kadarshian inspired quest, bore only a small fruit.

An ant repeatedly told
she loved him so much,
he wasn't astonished a bit,
knew life was incredible
it's a pin point of *****
to dull the existential pain,
how would he forget this ant
if not an ancestor,she may become
a descendant, a bond for ages.

"The grain of sugar
you allowed me to take
made me look sweet as I
shared it with my buddies,
though you aren't aware of it"

A cloud told that
she once made him stand
under the umbrella of
her cool shade, and that
experience did transform her.
"So tired you were
your eyes were dreaming;
while being dismembered
by an adamant wind,
inch by inch, I struggled
to hold myself together
till you could find a
new shade, before I am dissolved
by external compulsion.
Those moments I lived for
the love of you, so pure
expecting nothing but
fulfilling my karmic, dictate,
gave me the insight,
to remain a cloud in spirit, ever
though not in my form any more.

Your songs of loneliness
made me overwhelm,
I am essentially water
that flows towards the ocean,
containing meanings dense
the song you have sung
in intense pain, was
an experience; walking through
glowing  embers of coal,
for all who commingled
with my flow to ocean."

The tree had a rare radiance
it told him pleased,"Like me
you too have the crown,
a cloud of dancing thought waves,
that has silver lines,all the time
you sit and contemplate,
Every one has a Buddha
reclining inside,if you care
to think the way out of all miseries
he would be awake and smiling,
the compassion incarnate.
I appreciated what you did
that marked, I thought
the beginning of the light
that drives the ignorance of
darkness out from mind.
I did it by showering flowers
were you aware?"

"Karuna" she whispered as if to
emphasize it's preciousness
"Compassion" is what the most,
the world now lacks"
It could make the world a garden of love,
That's what reflected on me
when you sat underneath me
and gazed in to the far galactic
turbulence that is a saga continues,
how many moments of gold,
we were gifted one by one!
"Karuna" is the jewel, the Buddha
the enlightened one's words
did sow in us, with the touch
of a transforming thunder."

There isn't any half time mark
in a true blue love game, my darling
Neither prior fixed schedules or dates
nor strict rules, regulations, contracts
in a game of love, lovers avidly play it
themselves, in the way they truly wish
whether callow or highly seasoned,
mindful, heartless or calloused inside out!

The players decide where it has to be
played out, how long and  when the
curtain should fall and what would
be the after math of this; what results!

In course of the moves of this game
the thing important is particularly this:
They decide what to do with the dear life of each,
some times out of sheer impulse, even  eyes shut.
The ones that keep sanity and good sense
and hold the head above the water, swim together
would live to tell the tale sipping a glass of wine
but the rest, mostly become tales different
rarely told with a smile,most of those are written
in the black ink of grief and sung at taverns after
the hours dark falls  and ghosts vengefully roam.

Some, fall by the wayside in sacrifice, and perish
many disappear in dark pits invisible that lay
in wait to eat them head and all, without a trace.

But the ones I sing about are these pairs, resilient
they hold hands, steadily climb the path,
winding and narrow leading to the view point,
on the top of the green hill, from there
the view is breath taking, an ample reward!

Too fast a ride life is, to capture those stray tender notes,
that fall on your ears, eyes, nose or tongue, at times
the madness of sensory road rage, hits you and run
yet, you stop on your track, unawares,  shed a tear.
While passing through a curved bridge you look down
at the flow that just usual, to naked eyes, who knows?
the current may hide secrets that won't meet the eyes
but float ,  when it reaches further down at the sea.

As I walk along this street, at mornings and evenings,
at times when my eyes fall on her familiar face
I see grief swarming like a colony of bees around
a queen , on her face, when I smile,  she shows
no emotions, as if asking "Why should you be kind?"

Then one day, I see her, parking her car and line up
to get a bottle of whisky, as if it's urgent than ever
seeing me pass, she comes face to face .swarming
bees of grief for a while fly up, I see her ghostly grumpy face
and she pours  her grief out as if the world knows it,
"I can't sit holed up day and night,memories are a cloud
but too heavy to carry around,I fight with them day and night"
She held my hands and the street vanished we were in a dark room
enveloped by a smoke of grief that chokes, whoever comes in,
"I found an escape route, at last,look at the balloons!"
She ran to untie a bunch of huge helium balloons,
and through a dark window she soared up and vanished.

I still see her car parked in utter squalor, at the square,
near the martyr's column, a metaphor of grief for the world to see
while passing, eyes go up to see a bunch of helium balloons descend,
with the skeleton of  grief, of a woman lost  in  whisky haze.

1.
A wind shakes the tree,
Sudden death for all dry leaves.
sad, cold, earth awaits.
2.
A dry leaf drifts down-
In to an angry cyclone.
A life unforeseen.
3.
Churning storm's still eye.
The leaf quietly ponders,
Enlightenment strikes.

"Dad you are
getting old"
my kid
sounds alarmed,
as he yells out
that warning.
His curious eyes spied
the stray strands
of grey hair
I refuse to hide,
I could guess.  
                        Just up from the bed,
                        slipped out of his
                        mother's hands
                        he is eager to stand
                        against the scale
                       to see how much
                       did he grow last night.
                                                          ­   He opens wide
                                                            ­  his sleepy eyes,
                                                           ­   to look closely as if
                                                             to gauge the change
                                                             and looks betrayed.
                                                       ­      I see the  moving
                                                     ­        shadow of time
                                                            ­ in black and white
                                                           ­  in those little eyes.
                                                           ­   
                                                            "­My kid is
                                                             growing up"
                                                             ­ I realize
                                                         ­   "Time to slow down
                                                            ­ and hold his hands"

Once I chased a girl in Calicut,
Her diet, just pepper, not her fault,
Wooing her I'd plead,
"You are hot, I am glad,
But burn just my mouth, understood?"

In the wondrous story book of night,
               I fully absorb and contemplate,
You were the one omnipresent,
               in light years far and flames near.

                                   As orbs of light, in many intensities and hues
                                                     the ray of infinite grace that envelops,
                                      That feels like the caressing of lotus petals,
                                                    was you my eternal beloved.

Soft, frothing moon light has been
         at times of pain my true consolation,
The moving comet my source of wonder,
          that takes me to you in imagination.

                                             A reader, I was keenly searching.
                                                      ­for meanings of things in light and dark
                                               Being another character formed
                                                        of­ dust sedimented from many stars.

You are enshrined in the diamond
               temple of my mind's still center
making you my lover was
               in honor of my yen for sublime.

                                               The story book of night has pages
                                                         on spirited mornings, noons and dusk
                                                  your benign presence in each step,
                                                           ­ moves galaxies and milky ways.

I see your moving eye brows
   in the tumult of dark rain clouds,
Your intense eyes flash love to me
    when in pain,if  I feel some doubt,
                                                          ­  

                                                     In waves one after another of ocean,
                                                          ­   your hands embrace me to assure,
                                                       mountain wind from far distance
                                                        ­     brings your songs nightingales sing.

I am a living monument that's breathed
         from the elements , to keep on loving you
not ever a  jealous lover,I am like  a millioner
       ready to sacrifice all just for your presence.
                                                       ­   

                                                Is there any other lover with such care
                                                  who brings  boundless grace, like you?
                                                   you've the very same eyes of my mother
                                                          ­ that reach me the moment I fall.

In days I am moving within a dream
       for which, you are the creator, moving spirit,
I turn the pages of storybook of night
   whenever I want to be closer to your warmth.
                                    

                                                    A mirror you are reflecting my candor,
,                                                        ­ more than anything I ever yearned for,
                                                     You are the river that flows along  me,
                                                      ­   to the ocean, eternally seething in wait.

She had enormous wings, he could imagine,
how light it would to soar up and view
the world as one,  from above the clouds
that would make her feel blessed an envied
celestial being still walking firm footed on earth.
"Have you ever dreamed flying" he asked her
in a matter of fact way, concealing the wonder
the wings caused, but her words made him
think how strange the world is, she wasn't
aware of the gift of wings, pure white, delicate,
sturdy all the same, but the wings were not
a reality she appreciated, hasn't it ever come
to her notice? He looked in to the silence
of her eyes, was she keeping it as a secret?

Her wings were thin, shining silver petals
a rare flower, with a scent wafting everywhere
but by some quirk of fate, it wasn't there for her.

Your sight, stops my heart,
The moment next, makes it dash,
One killer doctor!

1.
This blue one is my favorite,
in the peak of ****** excitement
she calls me "Devil" between
sweet obscenities and tender bites
that lets me decide her species
a killer whale she is.
2.
I fell in love with this aspect
at the very first sight,
the easy buoyancy of the cuttle fish,
Ah! the delicate squid in my dreams
in her transforamtive  rigor of
peripatetic desire.Above me she hovers,
we are entangled with the strands of clouds.
In the soft poetic squid folds,
my desires find  discharge.
3.
Octopus, oh my perfect metaphor for desire,
are you strictly a fish by definition, I muse
though a mollusc, who cares, as long as your
supple tendrils, know how to touch and arouse
allow pleasure to flow through eight ducts,
would take you as the equivalent of a bisexual yen
in your tight binding  and sucker amour,
under water I am the  slave for your pleasure,
bleeding amour in equal measure
on each embrace.
4.
Gold fish is a cliche, but is it  her fault?
when  frothing orange morning sun
seeps  in to her spacious glass cage
she is another rich kid, seeking pleasure
and when she sings with her wings
dreamily moves, a pendent of Gods she is
my longing see the  cliche, yet oh! such  *** appeal,
my tactile desire, is more alacritous than being tactical.

Love was the lone window lit,
in that long wintry night,
beacon light of his winding path,
the lips that softly whispered and
evoked dreams, that'd become real,
for his wonderment, later, much later.

When he slipped and fell in to
the deep pit of long, endless silence,
love was his ladder to climb
to the rainbow bridge of hope
she used to frequent in evenings
though won't recognize him
not  once, even  for the old times' sake.

Love compelled him to compose,
soulful songs that'd stop the flow of tears,
his eyes never went dry until then
even while sleeping, his head was
on pillows of fire.

Love was the stone wall, that shielded
him from the raging fire of misery,
the rain that came down in torrents
when his long torn, desolate heart
was parched dry in cruel drought
too was love itself.

He was washed ashore alone,
when he heard the whispers,
love was speaking to his psyche
from near in a comforting tone,
then love held his hand,led him
across the marshes and swamp
sharp thorns and stones wounded him
gathering nightmares chased
and haunted him.

And then, love came along, in a disguise,
but his eyes waiting for long recognized,
love, comforted, chanted potent mantras
that helped him endure pain, gave him hope.
Love was his brave charioteer, the messenger
who told that all that was thought lost
is still in his possession as light within.

***** sun beats down-
On bikini beach blossoms.
Igniting moment.

Just a drink of water,
to quench my thirst
for your presence
for ever---

A loving pat on one cheek
for all the love on me you showered,
and softly, ever so softly
on the other cheek
give  the parting kiss for keeps.

That's all I ask for,
all the love we shared between us
never fully contained in whispers and kisses
all night conversations and caresses.

Taking a deep breath, look in to my eyes,
and pour all your blues, for me not to forget,
we are a coagulated scented mass, rare
no one in this world could separate.

Let me  emulate the wind, that rustles leaves
well before leaving without telling anything
and in return shuffle my hair, like before,
I will leave smiling, without thinking.
even when my heart is in fire hissing:
"Ah! this is how it all ends, never to repeat"

I 've learned the art of containing pain,
quite early in my life, without much effort,
a white fluffy haired pup,my dad's first gift,
that made happy beyond my little heart's content,
the one I bathed cared and fed, day and night
left for ever, in one cold  after noon...
heart broken I wept, tried to wake him up
Dad consoled "Let's buy another".It didn't help, a bit.

But when the pet parakeet, that flew around our home
was made his meal by our own rouge cat
the scattered wings, feathers and bones scared,
I didn't cry or panic, the pain died down within
I was learning a lesson then for a path strewn with thorns.

I'll walk away straight, with a smile,
like many smiles went past you,
but now, I know  you'll whimper,
But don't,  please don't shed that drop of tear
at the corner of your eye, hold it there,
it'll mutely tell you about a love divine, for ever.

His courtiers all, were blind,
though their eyes seemed
quiet normal, full of glint

ay, there is the rub,

On his proud countenance,
the king plastered for ever
an expression of thoughtfulness
a make believe, a clever construct,
Wasn't it the curse of the lineage?

"May the powerful suffer
the constant fear of fall,
unless courageous to fulfill
the karma truly assigned
without fear or favor"

Every successive king
would ritualistically burn,
his copy of leather bound parchment
written this in lilting Latin verse.

"*******,what would
the evil genius of the universe
would think of me, am I
just a pusillanimous *****?
the thirst for war runs in my veins!"

Sneering he lets out a war cry
perfectly pitched and phrased
in the tradition of heroes of yore!

It sounds odd even to himself
"No escape from the rut" he murmurs

Everybody pretend not to see
the big ***** in his armor.
who would take arms against
the kingdom's sea of troubles?

The king was in fact a lonely being
fear alone kept him company,
in person of the lord, his man Friday
in an armor that made him seem fearless!

Dame fear was his true consort
the queen only a substitute, wearing crown,
she was truly appreciated
only when she acted as his tranquilizer,
helping his worries galore go to sleep,
employing complex strategies.

Her favorite one for the final lap
was a lullaby that goes thus,
"Uneasy lies the head
that wears a  crown"
in his nightmares regular,
mighty empires crumbled.

So he did the best he can
not anything for love to spread
but to consolidate destructive instinct;
he invented weapons,
went on upgrading it
day in and day out to freeze fear
blacksmiths, knights,
horsemen, cannons, guns
his fear took many forms
and he used them to feel powerful
while trembling with fear.