An artful liar, his words beautifully cheat all,
speaks nonsense any one can believe
with  consummate flair, sees the essence without effort,
it fits well in metaphors and imageries galore,
he has wings to fly anywhere with ease, see things up close.
The  wind of imagination he blows makes waves,
he is taken to  ecstatic heights riding on  its crest,
yet he doesn't accept, when they call him a poet,
"Just at those moments I am inspired" he says"call me a poet,
not all the time I am one, being a poet is not a profession
but an attribute others bestow on one, out of appreciation"

The door opening to eternity's sky, on which cupid's invitation is written:woman,
man, the primordial gush,yearning to create future, pushing the door open for fruition.
In the hurry to perform in the grand opera, both part-players exceed nature's codes,
they both, alas! miss often the mission of love, and don't ensue smooth succession.

They made an elephant paint,
              using reward and punishment, method
marvelously created paintings!
                that success made world headlines!!
*******, yet another folly of human creation,
                 let me tell you the truth, kept hidden.
Angry for not getting coconut fronts,
              generously supplied in other occasions,
the elephant just pretended the brush was palm front substitute,
                the paint kept  in front, to him was dung to play with.
          The shapes of his hunger turned  to accidental art,
it wasn't his fault,  poor guy, his canvas cries out!

1
Her thick  dark eyebrows did cast a spell first,
they are stuck there like vampire bats,
they both symbolize  a sinister plot, kept secret,
with a 'come hither' prompt, none can resist.

She attracted artists in hordes, crazy moths,
never did they look above her face,the serpents,
lay tangled and acted as if it's smooth coiffure.
Wicked lust,aroused by bitter past,
                                    made her move with keen  intent
an invisible net she carried behind her back.
She attacked at opportune moments, pretending
she is a lover, with insatiable lust in boil.
2
All crafted lies, simultaneously,she artfully solicited,
       colored moths, in her slow fire, they burned, one by one,
but one remained stuck there for life, fearing rejection every moment.
A crop of heads she reaped , wherever she went,
a kite was ever ready to fly her victim-hood colors higher and higher,
that made admirers **** in their breath and stoop,
before her to her advantage, she had no dearth for volunteers any time.
Burning words made her chants fly like fire works,
her collection of heads turned stones by admiring her
increased, as a huntress she was an ace
stuffed in her cubbyhole of a heart, heads of stone languished.
3
Medusa,you don't have sisters,
I count it the luck of those  unborn
how beautiful, you once were I still remember,
though no sun visited the north you spent your childhood.
Run, run my feared beauty, to the sun, before your heart
get charred by the heat of hatred, you bear in the  Gothic interiors.

4
I hate Perseus, don't you fear your Nemesis?
Every Athena you wrongly think your foe  and fight,
all your hair turned serpents, still I thought, love would work,
without  coming upfront, I kept my flame burning,
but all in vein, you could never love anyone, legitimately or otherwise.
Your blood, all of it, has turned venom, you spit it, slowly
its beauty amazes, even  the victims on the line next...

A fallen leaf in water,
                 is quite her;
pulled to all directions
simultaneously
by fickle currents,
and her steadfast
resistance,
this twisting and turning
vigorous and nervous
mystifies all,
and it is mistaken as
choreographed moves.

Victor,
          Vanquished
                              both perished,
                                                     in due course.

A gleaming, sharpened  sword, SHE could **** without bloodshed,
HE is Buddha's gift of light, surging above, wind and waves,
they wouldn't cross each other's path it would seem, from the outset,
                                      but both are sublime,
in higher realms they permeate, in greater cycles they spread,
the sword that's her at that level of awareness
never would shed or touch blood, but cut away confusions, with light,
whichever be the path, once one  becomes accomplished,
peace would fill and lighten the soul, preparing to soar to the abode eternal.

Eyes of the matador were moving daggers, swift,
pinning bull down, they order surrender.
In a twist, breaking free, the bull evades his eyes
and snort, "Now it's your turn, let's see how you escape"

A stir in the air,
parakeet helicopters,
silence reigns again.

Never a fallen angel, far too loved and loving to be called a prodigal son,
but away from his mother, whose loving embrace was his solace
in his troubled days of adolescence, now far removed from his one time heaven,
he craved for something, a woman bestowed it on him lovingly without him demanding,
made him a man different from all others,  only she knew the recipes
that he would relish, after his mother, though both the tastes were different.

My schoolboy self
still lurks in mind's corridor.
Grabs chocolate from her hand,
makes a face if she doesn't budge.

A night in miniature,
I carry in a space mysterious,
of this woebegone heart,
from where I access it at will
to dream about our days
spent together in bliss
and feel closer to you
till the moment I wake up dejected
and be doleful  the next moment,
as I'll never meet you again.

This life  is nothing but, magical fiction,
love, the diamond we found, is inlaid poetry,
your heart conjures up sublime symmetry
in what I mindfully create, merci mon amour**.

Eating ' Grass', achtung! was a serious business,
if you think I was a vegan gone mad, I wasn't
In one go I devoured his "Tin drum", oh! Oskar!
felt enchanted, loved Grass, looked for more,
finished "Cat and mouse" next, sought further,
then"Crab walk"ed through "Dog years", delighted!
with the wish list in front, I continued to
go for Grass, an eating spree unabated.
Now the hullabaloo over my love for Grass subdued.
who wouldn't see what
Guntar Grass in German,  was doing
to my voracious literary hunger.

The cat with radium eyes, drilling into my sub-terrain secrets,
Hedgehopped silently in to my camouflaged enclosure, for a nightcap, it said.
A companion of mysteries, tip-toes in to the wilderness of night
With a gentle "meow' to hunt
                                                how fast you pulled me closer, with your claws drawn out,
Not any coy maiden, your lust, long nailed and wild,
Known you differently before, now it comes out on the open, I love you in your true colors, yes, but..

Your kisses are bloodsucking vampire feasts,
You need to feel the beast all over you, to quench the lust, from the beginning I knew(my secret)
With caterwaul crescendo we celebrated lust, I contributed in  plenty at your request,
When swelled desire, did burst and waves dissipated, we went to a dopomine induced sleep,
Completely transformed, you just look like a lackluster colleague,
Unexpectedly came to visit, for a cuppa and chat  (why do I feel bit let down, difficult to understand)

That camphor light, in your tranquil eyes,
revealed everything I searched all my life,
all those fantasies that gave sleepless nights
how they all reduced to naught and ashes!
when,  first  we stood, lost in each other's eyes
moments flew excited like butterflies in thousands,

          From the light, I realized, life began its journey first,
             when the voyage reaches its last port,
                 the shoes hung, never to be worn again,
                 All sounds go down to a whisper and sink
                 in to the grand orchestra of silence.

                 I would see those flowers, that made my garden fragrant
                 once again, like a pantomime dance, of stars.
                My wings, never opened once, will come alive and signal
                it's time to soar up, up transcending the speed of light,
              *Would you make your eyes sing that song of light, you perfected,
              one last time, and hold your tears?

They found their rendezvous in a house of secrets.
She smelled myrrh and frankeincense
Time never bound them within  its band
Space was theirs as much as they want
They went long evening walks though
winding road that went up, to the top of the  hill
ending below the yard, star paved sky,
then with a rare fervor traveled beyond light years
she embraced , he felt grace from past encircling him.

The house of secrets had numerous rooms,
not on the solid piles of reality it stood-
he suspected, though it filled mind,
Was she an apparition, creation of mind,
"What is real, what is myth?"
looking downhill at the plains, extending
far horizons, she asked in  mind's whispers
to hear her he needed no voice
birds in strange formations, he saw
flying against the crimson curtain evening spread,
they watched the drama of life, flowing with time,
never they were aware,
they belonged to two different time frames,
understanding  the undercurrents they smiled.
They walked back to the house of silence,
through different roads, to hunt secrets.

"Ripples spread" she whispers,
he becomes unstoppable,
in ebullience they merge**.

Warmth in human form, she wore an electrifying charm,
when she passed him from behind even without a glance,
his heart felt a yearning forgotten for a long time.
Prithee, mercy on me, his heart cried in the voice of an abandoned child,
didn't feel below his dignity to plead the ray of  light to kiss his brows.
Then she gently turned back and smiled, grace transmitting her fragrance,
both were blessed by that moment, the caress of angel's wings.
One look of the girl evoked,  a caring feminine lushness: mother, sister or lover,
her evanescence in him brought a pleasantness that  lasted for ever.

The 'wheel of Dharma' with eight spokes leads from the front,
I bow to the Buddha's 'eightfold path' and walk forward,
My love, the octopus, my 'dharma consort';  I didn't choose her myself,
her eight hands passionately sought me and found ,
I surrendered to the possibility of abundant caresses.
Her eight lithe hands, touch and tangle me, sloshing her love.
A journey man I am, a humble seeker too, walking sun splashed paths,
equally in love with dusky night and moon beams tender.
When I am in pain and distress, any one's fate in this planet,
she transforms to love eightfold and more, scented breeze at my bedside.

He met her in the courtyard by chance,
though pitted against each other
in a fierce competition, both willingly enrolled,
they fell in love, at fist sight, as if by a hidden cue.

Left out, by this turn, unexpected
they felt, no spirit of competition in them is now left;
two yarns in the magical weave of life
braided in perfect design, excellently blended in quick time,
can any one orchestrate a moment like this?
It's an apparition from the womb of time,  on its iridescent wings
flew down to intervene, on behalf of some spirit, evil or noble
who can tell, except when,  time is ripe.

Life is a walk through dark and enchanted woods
we stop a while where, paths diverge,
and  take one, sometimes by sudden impulse,
most take the beaten ones, the less traveled appeal some,
holding the hand of a beloved bathed in silver light, at the moment,
will it lead to destination or not, one knows not,  that moment is decisive,
at the end as much intervention of fate, if one views that way, as human proclivities.

Once pristine water bodies, polluted
look heartless in their murky darkness,
chemicals that could alter even genes
are abound in wells, ponds, lakes;
poison in our veins inch forward to hearts.
Don't forget to see what's written on the wall.
Now listen
                    Even fairy tales are twisted to suit
to our sadly warped times!
His mermaid, an underwater teaser,
he met at a coral reef and fell in love with,
has a story we relish much,
view Hollywood her dream destination,
if water world would allow her five winks,
she'd dream of becoming  Anjelina Jolie's body double

Like a hit of sudden thunder,

                                           I climaxed,
                  saw an alluring flush
                spread across her face
                    turning it to a lotus--
an adornment of ******* bliss.
An ancient moment dawned
before my  drooping, placid eyes---
a caveman's loud moans and cries
as he reached the pleasure's peak with his consort,
         echo on the cave walls, again and again**.

Moonlight, sheathing the earth,
lost its heart to a shining smart satellite,
"moving speck of light, inching forwards infinity,
alas! our love lasts, not even a cosmic minute"

So many left, the shaded paths in this  kind wood,
words of beauty recited here  forgotten forever,
blossoms of   friendships withered and thrown out.
Found nothing to tell as muse hid behind a haze,
or got dejected as gilt-edged words didn't meet expectations?
Too many waves of destruction one can't fight, one after another,
hence verse became meaningless?
Poetry makes nothing happen, someone said, once
is it after all true? But a vision of beauty humanizes, we feel it,
everything depends up on perspectives,
poetry happens when an immortal moment touches deep,
what changes inner life echoes in eternity, one gains wings.
The flow  never ceases, it goes on beyond time.
Know thyself. Be in the stream. Flow with the
stream of consciousness that weaves all in to one.
Does it make any sense? if so poetry too  is.
Why did they leave even without a word?
Are they in greener woods, in some other pursuit?
bless them, let them find peace in their quest.

Every river remembers summer with anger
though, in all other times every  memory is flooded with water.

She pays the price in teardrops, for the pain our love buys,
my eyes remain wet, day and night pining for her heart,
as hearts bleed from the thorns of yearning stuck deep,
lovers in the grip of silent suffering, feel their love is cleansed.

Night sounds
speak to the sky's silence,
star lights wink
love messages to lighted windows,
unveiled night coyly smiles
at moonlight inching forward, to kiss;
an orchestra of million pieces,
lights, sounds, winds, waves and flights of passion
plays for a time capsule, to be kept in eternity's chest**.

Isabel sits on the rusted garden bench,
my heart misses a beat, yet again as I watch,
her eyes are downcast, it's late afternoon,
she looks **** tired, dishevelled, distraught.

The world is on a slide, going bad to worse,
believe me i could see premature grey in her coiffure,
she is fired from her job, I can guess,
it hits me hard to think she is inconsolable.
Then, we all are, who is secure these days!

Under a tree, with withered leaves, she sits,
climatic change, obviously is playing havoc with it,
the evening sun, just slanted westwards,
seems unusually cruel to this girl,
no cover of thick foliage, moreover.

I see children playing around Isabel,
even they are soon losing interest,
if mirthful they are, make some noise and
run around, she would have smiled,
I would have felt far better than this!

Well, I don't know Isabel, may be her name is different,
on evenings I used to watch her from afar,
with curious eyes, I admired her incomparable elan,
hoping to make friends with her,
such a gentle soul she looked.

We'd become friends, by and by, I had hope,
I saw her smile and loved her sunny side,
but before I could meet and ask her out,
it happened, even without a notice,
I am fired from my job, today.
They said the downturn affected us bad, it showed,
What can you possibly say,
other than, just accepting the pink slip

In here and now we are, be aware
let's live in it, she said, i nodded my assent,
tomorrow is a country too far, strangers live there
how do we know, we'll get there and happy for ever?

On the wings
for long,
sky lights still beacon,
fuel gauge blinks red,
far destinations
ruled out.
Sea, a glittering
field of silver
heartily invites
but no landing gear
to alight on waves.
Floating on a limbo,
but my lover,
only co-traveler
just smiles!
believing in me,
waits for a
befitting end to this
exciting adventure.
A flash
connecting million
neurons in brain
each one coming alive,
**"let's navigate
our craft to heaven,
call it, Shangri La,
or whatever"

What moon means to me, how would I put it in words?
she has a power over me, yes, she is the cure for all my ills,
when my heart aches she knows, her beams , like rare herbs
just by a touch, makes me forget  my woes,
my beloved is jealous, isn't she just a village lass?
possessing me, to her, is a quaint way to express love.
I just would  laugh it off, she would join, later when she sees her folly.
My sweetheart, saw me climb the stairs of the night,
to reach moon's lovely cottage, just above the hill, our rendezvous,
when we met, I noticed,  her face was raven black
with anger; the moon was smiling at this caper,
as she knew how to make my love laugh, in moments.
The moon sprinkled her silver dust,  moon beams shone on us,
that was pure  magic, who can resist it ?She jumped like a child,
On the sandy river bed my love and I danced
moon, in all her splendor, came down on still water plane,
to play with us, as we bathed together.

Three poems, wet, gleaming and not much left for imagination,
in a deserted beach, collided with a prankster wave, mad after poems,
the lithe one, went up, up, like a kite, the shapely one tickled the eyes a bit,
when came face to face, and the hefty one went down like a rock.

From a distance,
the incessant chant of monsoon from south west,
sounds like an old witch practising her craft,
she is all evil and dark, one would think,
the overcast sky her sinister cloak.

But intruder under my umbrella, she is playful,
I watch this coy maiden, I desired from afar,
now she walks with me step to matching step,
tries to entice me with her soft tunes,
tender cool fingers, rubbing my cheeks,
her lover's touch unmistakable, passionate, eager
I shiver, she wants me to get in to her arms, cuddle.

I throw away my umbrella,
in boyish rumbunctiousness,  run to her
her hands moving fast tickle me, pinch
then a sudden embrace, making me squirm
with deep pleasure I dreamt in wakeful nights.
The joy of life that  the water and receptive earth evoke,
loud green glee around,  in me creates goosebumps,
in my dreams she comes to me
and tells the secrets of
nights I long for my love and me alone.
Rain, the seductress, taught me
the passions of living and loving
she,  awakened the spirit that seeps deep in to the
core of my being.

**When I lay awake in monsoon nights,
across my window she tangoes
in fierce passion with the wind,
that keeps me excited till I get absorbed
in to a dream that has love as its theme.

No more a hidden
continent,
now I know
the last of the secrets
you hold
within your geography.
Your armpit sweat
smells hay
and psychedelic mushrooms,
your saliva
has the the  taste of
winter sun light.
A full moon night
your secret  forests have diffused.
I get a taste of mint
mixed with
a dash of musk,
exploring the depths.
Your fruits aren't
the  kind of sweet
I hate,
I dig their tarty taste.
Your voice turns
a husky shiver
when you moist,
I can't help it;
I melt when I see it.
Your long nails
have a thirst for my blood,
when we touch each other
intimately with tenderness.
Gritting your teeth,
you lung forward,
as if you want to eat.
Your eyes get wild,
you are a tigress in heat.

She tends her cactus garden,
beads of perspiration,
works with a maniacal absorption.

One of many visitors she receives
yet looking at each other's eyes
dawned this quick realization;
similar maniacal obsession and passion.

A tornado she was, self created,
in her swirl uprooted
many huge trees, even tombstones
by the sheer force unleashed,
with her poetic flourish.

Love of a crazy woman
with effervescent creative  surge,
is a magical portion
brewed by a witch ,
in her forbidden rituals, night after dark night.

Injured by conjugal lust, unrequited
prompted to walk the garden path
holding hands of lovers, one after the other,
who took her to wilderness, deeper and deeper
and at the end to a blind alley,
life was a tribal dance,
from where return was impossible.
She never had to apologize to her mate,
who for all the world to see, remained  with her
till he went behind the curtain.

Imagine a life, a walk
through a cactus garden,where sharp thorns would nip,
searing pain and bleeding has its moments of exhilaration.
Life pulsated wildly for her on such notions,
(There were many who walked with her for each adventure)

They met, poetry flowed like wine,
she had a rare warmth seen in women of such creative combinations,
she feared nothing, but  her truth made many squirm.
Midnight dances of her and her friends gypsy bunch,
attained such fame.But all ended in a great  betrayal,
she was deep down a naive woman,
craving for love, to immerse in it.

On occasions she would change identities
at will, she was one but many
there wasn't any one like her before or after.
They would walk through the witch's cactus patch,
somnambulists reciting poems,
when they are together, in private,
cactus spine criss- crossed his skin
her nail wrote poems on the back
of the lover of the moment,
each one bled like soldiers in combat.

One monsoon night brought
everything to an end,
the cactus garden was trampled by
big grey wolves, the journey
met with an abrupt end.

What is she, cactus herself,
vampire, witch, lover indefatigable,
with the heart of a lion?
Erotomaniacal  poetic surge,
yet a fantasy in flesh and blood?

**They buried her
in a cactus garden away from town
not even ten people arrived to mourn,
not even all her lovers, had time that afternoon.
Her songs of pain, pierced hearts and they
still shed tears,
cactus garden, it was---
the metaphor perfected by her life and death.

An exotic orchid, of the mountains, her smile was scented invitation  
a jocular honey bee, elated by  her fragrance, than nectar, he was.
Covered all over with her pollen , he felt fulfilled, an instinct deeply hidden. prompting.
"To me memories are to be perfect" said, the handmaid of whimsy
"But when I am gone" sighed she "None will ever remember me"
he too felt sad, doleful was her mood and the words,
he fell silent , thought for a long moment and replied:
"Let me be candid about this, though to your  fragrance I've given my heart,
unless the offer of honey is implicit, why should I come searching for you?
We both give and take too, that's the prompt of nature true,
we can't help it, that's why we do; more than that all nature decides"
The flower stood mute and wistful, then serenely smiled,
it was time for them to part, the wind whistled its sly message.

Stellar spirit, fearless flier to high skies, your wings are gifts of freedom,
your florid songs, tug at my heart as much as those plumage,
your elan, though subdued a bit by harsh weather, takes new shoots,
never in disquiet, indomitable, your inner lamp, now burns with camphor light.
I see you fly above the storm clouds, singing anthem of your soul,
spectacular, in clear weather, cheered by your dear ones near,
the hillsides, valleys and dales resound with your dulcet tunes.

Yesterday murmured within the earshot of today:
The past has posted  an encrypted message
on your wall, decipher it, take a careful turn,
the road is slippery, life is short.

Two painters unseen,  leisurely take turns,
to change the color to one or the other,
relentless they strive, the world looks on,
but never could they succeed,
even after all these years of love's labor.

A third, the pale faced dreamy charmer,
is out of such intense competitiveness;
wanted the world only to be seen through her veil,
her goal is more artistic,casual.
An enchanting smile, none would forget,
flits across her face whenever she appears.
Her cool rays, and silver veil charms lovers' hearts.

Dark is the skyline, behind the high rise buildings,
a blue curtain spreads behind the wide stage,
to celebrate Ashad, the mirthful  monsoon season.
Behind the curtain of clouds, the dancer, many faceted rain,
gets ready to emerge with her out of the world dances,
the anklets of lightening flashing, stunning everyone;
in the backdrop, thunder drums, beat relentlessly aloud.

Fronts of coconut palms, cheerful green, in thousands,
spread peacock feathers wider, when the trees, excited audience -
too dance in display of resonance, every one watches spellbound.
Muddy red water, circulates blood again in the dead rivers,
that gush down, rejuanating grass, plants that had gone lifeless,
and trees that stood wilting, ready to sacrifice life to save water.
Now, the rain sings her sonorous song, making rivers and fields,
that lay parched, thirsty for water, to squirm with pleasure.