A yellowing leaf,
Meditating on
never ending "AUM",
the boom created by
mountain winds
incessantly blow,
happily hallucinates
a world altogether new
somewhere, not ever known.
Persuasions of a breeze,
with the caressing words of a Guru
makes it gently let go the branch
and bravely claim freedom
from the grief bequeathed for life,
a pain, constant reminder
of transience of life--
From the low hanging branch
of a fig tree on a wintry hill,
the leaf somersaults to a valley below
painted in psychedelic colors,
a territory unknown
It's
falling
           falling  
                       falling
                                  to
                                   what it thought
                                   a
                                  sea
                          ­         of
                              o b l i v i o n
                                  But
in amazement find, the sea is all-knowing
  absolute--------consciousness------------bliss

The sun, passionate lover, persistently follows his beloved,
gentle river, a demure maiden from the hills.
Though  sparkles and glows on his attention,
she loves to shelter more, within the woods, out of his reach.
When she at last comes out in the open,
to the planes, look! how much overjoyed the resplendent sun!
With his million magical hands he embraces her
she turns  crimson, in her intense desire
then comes the subtle moment of ecstasy,
in the ocean, they both conjoin, together they swim till nightfall,
the story is enacted, in endless variations, between these lovers.

A serpentine beauty, lips painted
       with psychedelic poison-
    is soul kissed; wanton kisser,
hides a stiletto behind his back.

A feather,
immaculately white,
with a hint of black at the edge,
incongruently shaped like a sword,
was lying orphaned on the third step,
as I descend.No one noticed it.
Or, what is there so special,
they would have thought.

I stopped to pick it up,
on an instinct, softness prompted,
or perhaps a wish waiting there,
far off in the dark corridor of mind,
a need badly felt,
while rubbing against,
rough edged time;
is it hope of a possible chance
of a caress. With a smile I turn,
serendipity starts its game then,
at that moment one least expected it.

No, I am wrong in saying that,
that moment was indeed ripe,
then only the meaning of the word
gets justified.
                         She was looking at me,
standing on a step, arresting her ascent,
transfixed, looking at the feather too, now and then,
as if it is a quill immersed in liquid magic,
I hold to write, something she would,
spell out, in a moment.
                                    "Tell me" I turn playful,
sensing her mood in that glowing moment,
so rare,we share, that has a hidden significance,
I was certain.

"That's the feather I dreamt last night" she stutters.
We feel the spell of serendipity,
binding our hearts at that moment.
                               0O0

A sunlit narrow path cleaving  
       overgrown green hedge, both ways,
such exhilarating surprises, it too can offer,
        but would one expect, in the first place?

On my track, I stand arrested hold that flower,
                that made my heart jump, in my front,
felt being washed inside out
                 by a kind wave, transformed.

The flower, romancing the sun
         still is on it's branch,alive
didn't feel the temptation
        to pluck it like many times before.

Even the beauty's name is unknown to me,
     just another hibiscus,amidst her  cousins,
"I love the one next to her, the purple one"
    said a female voice, a wayfarer like me.

Standing by me, she adoringly looked at her favorite,
     I had no hesitation to accept it, like mine.
no ranking makes sense, each has
      own quicksilver tongue, if you 'd listen.

"Look at you! how pleased you look
    I love the folks, that adore flowers!"
she sounded like a skylark, hands of
  evening sun caressed her, we are kindred spirits.

"You have wide eyes like girls,
    eyes seeking beauty reflect it"
we held hands like childhood friends,
   long lost, looked at each other's eyes.

Isn't it the feeling one try to capture and define,
       when trying to say what poetry makes to happen?
it's there, a tangible feeling, if you know what it means,
   on our separate ways we went, gifting what to keep for ever.

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.

1
**I like your light makeup,
mangled logic that never
served its intended purpose,
the svelte figure that creates
an awareness indelible on proportion,
and the intelligence you have
to keep it just as petite
all through the years
the out law male chauvinist, that  lurks in me is pleased,
lopsided analysis of contemporary affairs
you make,  allows me
to intervene, put you back to the track.
I dig the coiffure that makes the birds think,
its their nest, newly built.
Your purple prose I learned to like,
as it gets more and more evocative.
Syrupy songs you write, and sing
used to get one bored easily
no more, your emotions now are
more rooted and move me very much.

you know better than any one, how much I love bitter concoctions you cook.
2
But then
I realize that the cadence you create is unique,
you look life at its *** and frown,
your poems though rare, show plenty of evidence
of quirky charm, which I like.
Your weepy stories and convoluted plots too
I learned to like, all these are just habits, right?
They bear a stamp of your originality I can vouch,
love your starry eyes when each is filled with admiration,
for me in those special moments,
when I pull you out of quagmires
time after time.
3
I can't take eyes off your face,
exuding such innocence,
that vouches your genuineness,
each time that assures me that
you cannot ever be bad,
unless you want to portray
yourself that way cleverly.
Though not my cup of tea,
I love the gizmo culture you love,
your craze for computer games,
(though bit bizarre at this age!)
I enjoy it and get fascinated when you go too far.
You love to make love in the dark,
I later learned to appreciate  its tactile advantages,
and encouraged you unleash the panther in you, on me
though I love to do it with lights on
so that we can see the rainbow
the moment it spreads on ,
till it dissipates and we dive deep in to sleep.
4
You touched my depth in a way different,
made it possible to love the woman you are-
the way you are,  I love it
because, you are unique,with all imperfections
together we are complete.

In my underwater home in dreams, I safely kept-
                                      dreams of you, spiral shells and conchs I collected,
                                                      ­              A fish, I'd become,  swim with turtles,

                                                       ­ *In coral reefs I had a million friends.

A slender white cloud,
tells wind its tale, dissolves!
The sky's smile vanishes.

An igneous rock, she took from the garden,
our rendezvous and presented as her heart to me.
It turned red at once and winked to my soul
in a cryptic  primordial code,  beams of light flash
telling  our love had begun  somewhere beyond  time.

Distinct memory I have, it was glowing within the galaxy,
of billion silver stars, kept in the chest of immortality,
when we burned and burned to blend in each other's light,
"Come to me" beckoned her flame in intermittent pulses.

And I came to her in this garden, light years down,
we forget time, the spirit we are, living in elements ever,
matter and energy in  an interchanging embrace, love in essence
to her "SHAKTHI" I am the  "SHIVA, pervading in the cosmic  vastness.

meteorites in fire display, create an ingenious word craft
***** sky  frenziedly reads the amorous request, shudders,
swift, transparent cloud, embraces the lonesome gloomy moon,
she is falling in to pieces, desire drives a knife of pain through her heart.

On a white conch shell
like flowing teardrops
her name was written,
in his heart's blood;
this is the only record
hitherto, of his sacrifice.

On a coral reef
with every imaginable color,
his name was sculpted;
a real marvel that belies
the labor of love of long days,
her final dedication to the love of her life.

A deep sea diver, exploring
a long time after, strayed
in to this chamber of love secrets
by chance and finds
the relics of a mysterious love affair
that got lost to the human world for ever,
but  found an abode deep down
in the ocean depths
amidst crowding scallops, calamari and mussels

The explorer's eyes brim
a stream of tears,
though do not know
for whom, it was shed
adds salt to the ocean floor.

Love makes heroes out of
even timid and docile persons
let me tell this. it is difficult
to predict the ways love treads.

Round and round,
a flash in fluid motion,
in the desolate ice rink
she skates and dances
embracing freedom,
my sense of time
shrinks and expands
at her  own sweet will
the fiery flight of an angel,
it's spirit  hits her lover's heart
but only tickles and explodes
in a rain of bright love signs.
I've been watching this
breath taking phenomenon,
without batting an eyelid,
how long, I lost all estimates,
my  sins go up in smoke
when  my heart,is up in flight,
benediction is the result
of watching her write poetry thus.

You are a songbird,
at night shift,
on the branch of my tree.
I am ever ecstatic,
in documenting body music;
the time is ripe for our concert,
we are intoxicated, drunk with the vintage wine of lust.
"No combination could be more perfect"
I hear you whisper poetry in my ear, inebriated.
Let us satiate-
the prompt of our divine longing
before this night leaves us behind.
Yes, you are right,
**I am Omar Khayyam thinly disguised.

Spreading dense night, dark robust forest,
growing relentless, virtually unstoppable;
it went on for some time after the sun surrendered
we were stranded in it's cloudy  thickets, thorny bushes.
Then came white butterflies, waves after waves after waves,
from the silver moon's abode  they descended so spectacularly.
          We were overwhelmed, by this sudden invasion of beauty,
that swayed my mind, made it fly high weightless like a feather,
couldn't even notice them eating up the fear of the forest altogether.

Consumed by a primitive hunger, they made passionate love,
in a lovely wooded stretch, away from their verdant village,
the girl, in the throes of a newly known pleasure,
felt something round, just below earth,
touching her moving hip; it turned out to be a dinosaur egg!
a witness beyond time for the ardency of Tamil lovers

She ate all his curry,
smuggled jars of cookies,
stole his cute doggie,
how could he even complain,
against this smart *** beauty!

she hates all controls,
toppled over his schedules,
looks deep in to his eyes
and makes him weak at the knees!!

Elena receives a secret message from God
"Keep quiet and listen to Bach, kid"it said
She was so cross with God at first,naturally,
"The old man is cold, I won't listen to his
new commandment" she averred
as she wanted to annoy Almighty as much
as, a retaliatory measure.She felt good,
pleased, she fell silent for a long, long while.

Quickly she realized she obeyed His word
and by that time her ranting and raving
had fully come to an end.
                                             "Oh! my God!"
in astonishment she thanked God,
for making her feel better though she was
thoughtless and horribly blasphemous.

"What a crafty old geezer God is"she grinned.
yes,her defiance was intentional,but it was
as God willed,how intelligent His designs are!
"Oh! Bach! she remembered his words
she ran to fetch a record.Hey presto! it's there
right at the top of the heap, as God willed, of course,

while 'Christmas Oratorio' of Bach sweeps her off her feet,
Elena feels elated, as if the hands of devine, embrace her tight.

"Her other name must be Peace"'
Doubted  it was writ large too, on that face,
Yarns of tranquility waved her dress
In it's tight drapes her shape does express
More than expected within that gentle grace.

For a moment he held the reigns, took stock,
Deeply inhaled the scent of musk, she exudes
Sensed a turbulence, an effect opposite, yet sweet
"Need to initiate a change, a bend in the flow, quick
Amble to her and shake hands"his other murmured
"Otherwise you wouldn't forgive yourself,for the lapse
Letting slip a rare glowing moment, from your hand"

Alter ego's prompt, was carried out with such ardor,
She briskly met him halfway and gracefully asked:
"We sure met before once, didn't we some time?"
"Certainly, but in some other life time, it was"he says
She smiles as if his was a seductive move, she liked it.

But these waves that reach him has an intense warmth
"Will you give me a hug?" emboldened he ventures further
She did more than what he could expect, tight was the embrace.
Yes, that's right, appearances are deceptive,pleasant surprise!
One needs to expect the unexpected,make serendipity work.
It was too fast, he couldn't see what really was  happening,
She perhaps leads him to a timeless space , he imagined
That volcano camouflaged as a green  island of tranquility!

The master craftsman ,
Of this spectacular dusk,
Leaves no signature!

It feels great!
we thank each other
for remaining friends
for yet another trying day.
                                     as morning light peeps
                                     through the window
                                     we keep our faith
                                     in each other firm.
when
the evening light
fades on to
long stormy darkness,
                                       each take out
                                       poems written by
                                       the other and reads aloud,
when a poem brakes loose
from it's shackles and touch
somewhere; an unknown
depth, where pearls are found
or a lost treasure is to be retrieved,
                                                      ­  Epiphany strikes,
                                                        ­we are melded together
                                                        ­with one vision of beauty
we are sadness
kissed by the lovely
light of hope,at the
right moment that
was about to slip down
from a precipice.

attic civet cats,
wake me up; in a day past.
time travel by chance!

Do not just pretend,
that you understand everything,
that could make you look clever
but you'll be soon defeated in your game.

The sorcerer never told me the truth
about his esoteric art or him,
every trick is concealed in shining platitudes
"you'll soon find out" he kept on repeating.
  
Does he really know what he is saying?

There were secrets in every corner of the house
the sorcerer lived.I, as his apprentice have to learn
to live with this fact.I fell in love with his daughter
I followed her everywhere,  in my eagerness to please him.
There was nothing else I could think of, at that moment.
He seemed delighted.By now I am trapped
in the labyrinth from which I couldn't get out.

His truths were partial, hardly believable.
Or his is a truth i would never be able to grasp.
There is no right or wrong that would help one
to break loose.I found the sorcerer's daughter
very resourceful.She was the only one who seemed
to know which way the wind blows.

Am I the sorcerer's slave? Is this a trap he set for me
right from the moment he got me interested in him?
Is his daughter really in love with me, or
all this an illusion, my mind plays or just a dream?

White heron,
now I, in solitude  eye
under the melancholy moon,
charmer of my heart,
even silver clouds
envy your easy grace
when you wing
towards horizon
undaunted even
by the wintry darkness
rushing forward.
Far above you are,
beyond my reach
are you a mirage?
in the rice field,
while tending
young saplings,
in muddy clothes
my eyes fell on
your immaculate
white  dress
aha! I'll never forget
that smile
that moment you
made me yearn
for your magic
for always,
was it my fault?
I lost grip in
immediate reality
and soared up
I don't know
how it happens
look at me I am still
learning to navigate
the treacherous waves
of winds from east and west,
though the purple star
watching me from her perch
winks and sends
her ardent love messages
to me incessantly.
But you are flying
to lands too far,
never opened your heart,
I am like a candle
burning at both ends
eaten up by the love unrequited,
and not able to love the
distant star that loves me
expecting nothing in return

Along the palm fringed backwaters,
my  lonely canoe, in frenzy moves,
I roam with a pain deep down in heart,
not knowing which flower I seek,
lo! and behold, there she is,
throwing me a water-lily smile,
the dark dainty one, diving for clams,
who has never spoken to me a word.
Gleaming with the sun beads, adorning her,
when she glides up through water, from the mud bed,
I sit here , my oar gone still, mind a calm pool,
drinking her smile with both my eyes.
I will go back to my dark nights
where wild dances are my only refuge,
**this smile you spilled, a panacea for my ills
never would I give up, take my word.

Desolate beach---
trudging alone,
an old memory
with a hook sharp,
pulls him backwards,
wobbly foot prints
on soggy sand--
instead of her petite feet
playfully filling each,
puddles appear,
reminding
the pools of tear
in her sad eyes,
at the moment
they parted for ever
without even a word.

In a world, somewhere beyond the senses of human
a woman fell in love with a man,
he could be me too.In no way she could see
all(every one )of me, or I her; yet we know each other
in our magnificent ignorance of universe, that
makes things work for us in this world we live.

A sea of bubbles, each universe is copy of some other
as a lost pair in parallel universes, if researched enough
I would have found there are millions of she and I, exist
in numerous universes, doing things in all
permutations and combinations, I am sure.

If I take me as a Romeo, I can't happily court tragedy,
remember in some of these worlds where a different
law of physics works(a different Newton existed, apple didn't fall)
our love could become a super success, Shakespeare there
would have been forced to write a different classic.
In some other world a different tragedy might have occurred
I am not one , but multitudes,  in planets of different universes,
I am the past, the present and the future awaited, I am the same cat
Schrodinger has donated his name and made famous
that made life and death suspects

I am the 'atman'- the essence absolute, in human beings
that yearns deeply  to merge in  the absolute consciousness 'brahmam'
about what the Indian sages of yore spoke in 'Upanishads'
millenniums before quantum mechanics saw the light of the day.
Brahmam, the absolute, non-duel in unmanifested part of the universe, beyond knowing
by a cryptic play becomes matter and manifests before us, bit by bit
Higgs boson,  please catch  the cosmic slight of hand red handed.

1
In petrified personal history
far back in a page, this image-
a boy, eyes shut
lays supine embraced by
mother earth.A wakeful dream.
His bare body, smells
sweat, hay, mud, pollen
and grasshopper songs,
resonating in his ears still,
the sacred morning mantras;
his Hindu mother's incessant chants-
to appease mother earth.
* Shanthi..Shanthi..Shanthi
Peace descends on magical wings.

2
He feels time standing still
like trees frozen on a windless morn,
Earth was the mother, the presence,
that poured in to consciousness
music without sound,
an warm embrace without touch,
that painted the inner world with
her myriad colors.

3
Earth where secrets spurt, spread and die down as ashes,
my windy bed, gentle balm, end of every hunger,
I've dug deep in to yielding earth,
on those days of rustic childhood,
in a frenzied exploratory spirit,
prompted by a deep primordial urge,
that kept churning my dark inner caves,
with unknown currents, perhaps a wish
to go back as far  as possible,
to the past and find the nest where memories slept,
where my history lay buried in layers,
unhatched eggs of dinosaur past,
waiting to be discovered,
by the probing hands of present and future.
Perhaps a desire to reconnect with past,
now crusted secrets of an uncertain time,
that would talk to me in cryptic codes
of life, death and transcidence
and in a flash reveal what it all means
to an intergalactic traveler on eternity's wings.

4
My eager body gets smeared with soft earth,
covered at places with sticky mud that exudes
a sensuous scent,
                           feel of a woman, that takes one
to the unreal plane of a savage urge,
that arises from depth, a yearning to melt in to her,
to give birth to a future that would bring back
in a new form, the histories of yore,
on   the starting point once again.

5
Earth, is the sensuous woman, I relentlessly seek,
the destination of my destiny in the end,
the womb, where seeds of my dreams take root,
when I come back to her, to create me all over again,
with her elements, minerals and salts.
                            

An olive branch, hurriedly raised,
sparsely leaved, sans any grace
sadly a belated thought she had,
a wingless bird's attempt to soar,
a withered symbol of an inept pair's
egomaniacal overdrive, a betrayal
in the name of a love lost it's soul
prickly floats down, as he watches
it swirls and turns on the turgid flow
a storm water drain keeps no memories.

Along with it a love, utterly vapid
too goes down, breathing it's last.

His face is white like chalk,
he mulls death as an option,
"bleed , bleed my heart,
till you are white" pleads his desperation,
flying back after loosing her forever, deeply hurt,
everything he achieved so young
seems now just dirt,
in a chartered flight empty
except the crew and him
no easy route he can think to ease the pain.

Through the window,
in the bare  blue sky his eyes fall
on a lone albatross,  
going  down loosing height,
gravity pulls one down each moment,
rise above the clouds and expect a thunderbolt,
then go down like a flight in distress any moment.
thinking about her streaming eyes that followed
as he left her even without a goodbye,
he hears her SOS ringing in mind.

Will she ever know what really happened to them?

"Our love has been betrayed by the world,
we've been taken for a ride by all we did trust,
now far away from the hold of reality,
this cruel world anymore, doesn't deserve us"

The flight has taken to heiger altitude, away from all this
enters in to the magnificent city of clouds,
without seeking anybody's permission.
The skyscrapers in the high street of this opulent place
has created new reality to him without her

The steeples of cloud cathedrals bring calm,
there isn't any going back from this tranquil world.
"I wouldn't go back from here, dear captain,
look! how well we have fitted in this reality's fold
let us not turn back, but land here in the city of clouds,
where all flights, of every time, land for ever, never look back.

Call the air traffic control, make your voice cheerful
even the paths here are covered with cloud carpets,
let's save the fuel, fly on the wings of clouds
steady towards eternity, that wait for us."

Quite enticing, plush
she is a spectacle,
all the same lacking
substance and depth.
A coffee table book
everyone who is
someone, curiously grab,
turn the pages in a jiffy,
just to feel the gloss
eye the seductive shine
ogle the ostentation,
and caress the pictures
in opulent colors,
then, let go quick
without any qualms.

Throw it back on the table
with a resounding thud
in no time and leave
without even looking back once!

You sit in silence, on lotus
deeply meditate, in the end
recount the tale of life, simple
for a moment,in a nutshell,
the sky of your mind is clear.

But materials of millions
of light years in our tale
is beyond retrievable limits,
on that no confirmation
is needed, simple logic will
tell you that the life you live
couldn't be an isolated one
every one of the neurons
of your brain, is a star in this
thickly braided, interwoven 
 universes, that die and take birth.

Before and after simply
must be there, but, as it is
out of bounds for the senses,
limited to a time and space
we are groping in the dark.

So what now, don't you
want to go beyond --
in to the ocean where
human logic can't stand,
and end the intergalactic
expedition with light
and darkness as references.

Break the final barrier
exploring  the universe within,
decide to be the light
undiminished for ever;
embrace enlightenment
breaking the golden chain
that ties down,  desires.

"They admire us" a bucktoothed pirate
stinking liquor and wearing  clothes unwashed
straight for an year at least, beams
with such ill founded pride;
pirates are called other names
that sound ironically like accolades!
Protective Gods wielding punitive powers too,
on the other hand, did you notice,
are feared like autocratic patriarchs,
and hated secretly for their temper,
a long standing problem, this! a clear case of
warped  human imagination, I'd  guess
why not God almighty, find some time
to set right this one problem vexing us for so long!

An albino crow,
On a fogless winter morn!
Nature spells wrong!

If he lacked polish and was avaricious without any limit,
he could have taken her  by force and justified that she provoked,
knowing from each move she made,
she was teasing him, and taking it to the extreme,
he may have gone over to the top, any moment.

They stayed in two rooms adjacent
in that backwater resort, a breath taking delight,
in the mornings she paraded
in front of his room, skimpily dressed,
as he came out, her beauty seemed to overflow
from bra top and she encouraged him in many ways
by suggesting many possibilities of pleasure.

A waiter comes and knocks at  his door
he gets a complimentary drink, his favorite
courtesy to her(obviously she has made meticulous research)
along with shrimps and clams cooked in olive oil.
When he came out for an evening stroll,
at the far end of the compound, in the shallow part of the lake,
she was taking bath, with an exhibitionist flourish
when he smiled at her visibly timid, she amorously pursed her lips,
she was in an adventurous mood, like nature at the time of bloom.

"Seen your paintings, loved those sensual nudes
reminds me more of myself, in front of a mirror,
obviously they are all seekers of pleasure, I am sure.
I am a singer, they say my voice seduces, all
you to me do the same when I see you as the painter,
in flesh and blood" she paused for a  breath.

"If I lacked polish, my paintings wouldn't have the magic,
you speak about; it's not deliberately created, that's impossible.
It's pure poetry, that oozes by itself, a blessing I earned.
There is no wanton desire here. Magic of the sensual
is charged in the atmosphere.I feel it all the time,
be it morning, evening or night,
the possibilities of pleasure is limitless.
Express the best way one deems fit, be liberated."

Night is a river,
The moon sails on her dream boat;
-Shambolic waters!