night,
lights out,
wonder--
how they
make love
silently.

Sweet nymph, dreams are a land
I have no control, just across
the wailing wall is the land of nightmares.

I haven't seen you for long,
correct me if i am wrong.Though I
                             really don't want, I still dream you.
                                    Nothing could be done about it
                                                  even if we both don't want!

A blindfolded man, young and handsome
makes love to a woman tied down to bed posts,
her contorted face has a bitter sweet expression
a painter's enigmatic canvas would love.

Her eyes. two small animals
one is hate the other love in disguise,
that slowly come in to terms with
the strange game's rules.Egos of the pair
tell two different stories.I am conscious
of the fact that actors have no control over the script.

The show continues, even if the script changes
no more victory for any one, I am sure.
Did I hear a song about wrong choices,
who decides the cast, and how to change?

Will they ever find the winding path
to the sun drenched meadow,
from where the blue hills look nearer?

in torrents rain chats,
whitening nimbus restraints,
vignettes come in drops.

She wept bitterly
over her creative gifts;
transient, even this.

And when the lights, once bright, one by one
in weariness shut their eyes, the last visitor
came in perplexed and stood still before
the one and only exhibit, kept specially for her.
An abstract artifact, creation of hearts through many summers,
a cry stifled in her *******, felt like a piercing knife to her,
But in that seeping darkness she didn't see a blob of blood
oozing out from it's center and dripping on the ground wetting her feet.

the new moon's coy sheen,
the starlings' nosestuds gleam;
light's secrets in darkness!

she-
       queen of innuendos,
                                        I
                                         cast sly looks,
                                                               she acts coy!

As he sits there alone, west wind blows with a hiss
That moment, brings to mind her searing, passionate kiss
See, how fast the river of life once brimmed dried up,
Yet the seeds of memories planted within the reach
As if in a safe,  atmosphere controlled green house still flower,
Once in awhile, though in faded colors just to please  him.

Bristling green rice plants,
Make waves reaching the far hills;
Wind’s jugglery spooks!

piercing nimbus layers,
sun asserts light's reign again.
doom to pall of gloom.

A swarm of bees hum?
Thrilled earth receives cumulonimbus sting ;
Mind is on a swing!

wading in water
I feel tiny fish mouths peck,
now,the teeth explore.

city lights shut eyes,
silence nets darkened night;
alone, still she waits.

Amazement taking
a human form
and performing for hours;
it wasn't anything less.

How the pianist does this
is beyond the grasp of mind,
owes her very much
for the deep cleansing
of our souls, but there isn't
a way to pay the pianist.

Don't know how much is enough
in material terms, whatever
will be not enough.
It's worth a few lifetimes
of deep healing, I guess,
This adventure crossing
boundaries of every kind
with ease humbles us,
eyes fill, streams of tears
just don't stop.


Fallowing her trail
we reached a clearing
in the tangled dark forest,
experienced a glimpse
of what is beyond:

immense ocean
of music
merging in
the dense sweet
dreamy silence

bedecked in night lights
this nubile city beams pleased
darkness, her other.

Not all for the story books, to engrave in letters of gilt,
to read out loud to the grand children, with curious eyes
in quiet evenings with a sense of magic, satisfaction,
nor for keeps as a precious find, dear heart forget it,
don't taunt for the pain endured on long sleepless nights,
some bring smiles, silly flings, copious  tear shed,
too searing on those times, a cut across the heart
is what most concealed as if  one thinks, let bygone be bygone,
it doesn't matter,soon will be forgotten, for ever
but in fact that blood letting wound, persists
even as  time flies it turns back suddenly and stings
hard like a venomous scorpion, vengeful
and that pain in the heart increases,comes to visit
like a deceased friend, every day, in an appointed hour
at the dead of night, still craving the company
of those alive, to make grief their constant companion.

on windowsill rain
drums,makes memories march on
hooting, jubilant

Contrary to the belief,
                              a dying star doesn't feel pain,
                        the fire in its core sings a song
                                        of liberation, all along.
                                                in a galaxy distant
                                                         ­ it simultaneously takes birth
                                               Death is not the end of a star,
                                                           ­  yet another beginning it is!

sky, benign cry
for life,that roots ever for,
interstellar sprouts!

pale lady, full moon,
spurns a million suitors' winks;
sits alone, brooding!

At sight, just this one bloom,
that spectacularly spreads,
it's warm purple petals wide
above us, like a big benevolent lotus,
causing  the magic of dawn and dusk,
day after day,indefatigably!
Galloping fast , then leading
to a day,turning it different
for each, an astonishing feat!
Closes at night, claiming  back
all radiance, he brought along,
in between  deftly he addresses
trillions of neurons at work  of every kind
all alone; simply phenomenal!

Isn't it an incredible everyday miracle?

But do we ever thank the wonder bloom
except the ancient sages who structured
a mantra* to praise his astonishing gifts.
Prime source of light for the humans, this!
a wonder one of a kind, he sure is,
well, till the day 'God decides
to play dice', yet again!

Take these
pills for --
                 tranquility,
                 virility,
                 sanity:
                         what about
                         nobility?

Even sensing
her presence, as
a wafting fragrance
makes me dense.
But I get as light
as a feather flying
gaily over hills
fueled by
self contentment
when I carry her
in my heart
day and night.

On banana flower's *******
Three avaricious bats suckle.
Above, few still circle.

Oh! God, after the last metal detector,
of this day for me to pass through,
may the thorough body search to follow,
                                                         ­ *be done by that sultry lass,
                                                          i­n combat uniform,
                                                        ­  eyeing me with desire,
                                                         ­ every time I pass her station.

The path was too dark, alone and down, still fighting

She badly was in need to feel upbeat and elated.

The talent to embrace truth, through electrifying poems

Was her way out of troubles of any kind at any time.

She wrote one on "The loneliness of the crescent moon"

The moon peeped through the window,said with concern:

"Girl,you are are wonderful,don't you know that,get up,

Read this poem aloud to the world and end it in laughter"

She tried, she tried, but at the end,she uncontrollably cried!"

ordering her food,
she broods over empty plate;
potent nothingness!

None like her, the twentieth time darling of the Oscar
Still Meryl's esteem, a few thought should be scarred,
"An overrated actor" teased irate Trump,
"expects moolah to wear a dress, show oomph"
In spite of the "Streep tease" Meryle is the undisputed "act-star"

Pitch dark night
mutely complains against starlight,
fireflies, moon beams and each spec of light
seeping in from galaxies lost in billion year dreams

The greatest injustice,
in the voice of wind, night murmurs
is light that makes discordant notes
marring the spellbinding orchestra conducted by darkness
extending softly like a drapery of silk, all over the world
rising and falling to an invisible baton's moves, swift or slow.

But her reign, she forgets, is only till sun comes
riding his chariot and seamlessly continue
drowning the music of darkness,
completely in his tenor of light touching alto soon enough