Pure in it's gleaming marble white
a rare conch shell, well formed,
with 'reverse turning spiral',*
he holds, in both palms with reverence
closer to his naked chest, where
his beating caged heart tries to create
echoes, as if it, in an unknown
mysterious way, represents
a myth entwine him with pure nature.
An intriguing remains, retrieved,
from the accumulated deep sea secrets,
where still his memories vaguely roam
in another life, as a creature of the deeps.
The conch he is aware, hides tender notes
that bridles air, water and fire, cosmic ripples
prods him subtly to accelerate  his quest,
a swim towards the maelstrom of inner core,
commingling with the music cosmos conducts
every moment, with it's billion piece orchestra grand.

She is a flame burning in clarified butter,
his consort,her eyes reflect a concurrent spirit,
both her palms she bring together ,makes a lotus thus
and a red blooming lotus is nestled between palms.
Her lotus speaks of  fecundity,from which flows love and life
generations, descend find succor, in the gentle fragrance,
and warmth, the lotus, protects, even at the midst of a freeze.
Her eyes are blissfully half closed immersed in the fragrance
wafting in the air spreading in waves far and wide.

Quiet and demure night
one finds out by chance
is sleeping peacefully
on the same bed,
covered by a grey blanket
the sultry day too seeks after,
the tribulations a day long.
One would think that
smug and complementing light
for her is an anathema, is it?
But now it comes to light,
he is more like her paramour,
this face she keeps hidden
so audaciously, the unabashed
adulteress has no sense of shame
"When you imagine things,
take responsibility to it,
don't try to blame others"
You'd hear her murmur,
the long clandestine affair of
darkness to light, takes me
to where it all began..
will there be diversity
that enriches life without contrast?
The Himalayas should
sincerely thank ocean trenches..

1
*In the masquerade of a poet
he acquires secret wings,
becomes equal parts real and unreal,
treading the twilight zone.
He still is an apprentice
with the conjurer,
incomparable wizard
who never stops amazing
being the anarch of slight of hand,
the illusionist grand,
we in the flow who swim or drown
in the river, known  as life
that none ever defined the way it really is.
2
Inside his cubicle
transformed to a scribe by a curse
when he coveted it, was a boon
he is real, all  his magical powers robbed
by the day light, realities of life
he is grappling with news
that make  his heart grow weak.
He is now a sobbing poet within,
firmly  handcuffed to a pact strict,
only to write reports, that's his might
anything of beauty he couldn't  escape,
its all pain in forms unimaginable
most of it man made, even famine.

A life swinging between a hope
to come in terms with
the uncertainties of the ebb and flow
that breaks his heart bit by bit,
and facing realities stark that drives a knife
has become the rut, he wouldn't escape.

Dawn peeps through the window blind
he has lost meaning for day and night  long time back
when this double life, has trapped him in this pen

"In the borderless kingdom of poetry,
poet is the emperor"
KALIDASA (Sanskrit classical poet circa,3Cen BCE)


His words
"Apare,  Kavya Samsare,
Kavireva  prajapati"

Hear each body cell speaking zen to the next one
result of self oblivious meditation opening-
numerous effulgent channels to sources of light in universe;
the meaning of the epithet, "jewel in the lotus" becomes evident,
body becomes all eyes and ears like that of a martial art expert's  in combat
(remember the chants immortal, the Guru's gift
that roused the coiled serpent  1)
soul, the essence, is liberated from all bonds,
limiting cycles of birth and death
stars on the firmament of inner sky is the brightest ever, rain light
"Aum" the cosmic hum, resounds sonorously  in the core of consciousness
life and death are words without any meaning in this state
liberation could never be expressed in words or by any other means
a never changing quietude dawns,  existence moves to a limitless space-
beyond dream in deep sleep and further to the realm of mysterious.
Existence becomes a reality eternal, beyond the three dimensional space
that state is an experience, now a moment is a millennium ,
gently slips in to cosmic consciousness, that swirls to envelop

I heard, my  rainbird singing Meghmalhar* alone,
my heart was broken in to pieces, as her wistful tune hit it,
her swansong it was, I realized.
I knew grief was her wings, how can I make her confine
to this garden and sing, when she wants to be on the wings?
I watched her from behind the bushes
thinking to give her the freedom to sing her swansong.
In to the  rain clouds , she flew up, only a feather she left behind,
for all the memories of my music filled days with her.
Torrential monsoon rains lashed, thunderclaps and lightening
made the sky a war zone, I saw her
flying in to the heart of danger, without concern,
my eyes followed her far and away, one last time,
a drop of tear on the corner of my eye,
sears my soul all the time.

I found peace,
on  water's ample *******,*
the river cascaded,
plethora of questions,
the fervent lover,
wanting to know more and more
though she knows me
body and soul, in and out,
from the days
I was small.
We became lovers
at the first sight,
tickling my ***'y secret places
she taught me, alphabets
of a woman, one by one
now I can read each,
a cryptic tome, full of
secret murmurs and symbols,
hieroglyphycs, Sanskrit,
all rich, obscure languages.
My river, the quintessential woman,
power of meandering serpent, immense
her hands supple,
fingers, mischievous,moving,
which make my mouth go dry,
with the pleasure that erupts in me.
Embracing her cool waters
I come alive,
even when my heart is on fire.
We have spoken to each other
long long hours,
spilled every secret, forbidden wish,
made sure depths of each is  filled with
the scent of other,
I found my peace on the bed of water,
where I  had spilled my seeds first, ecstatic
never forgotten that moment, ever.

In deep sleep, her  anguished voice rings a bell in my brain,
hear the screams of a woman in my blood stream,
hallucination, I loved to believe,  but then it became more frequent
at night, she whispers, her intimate secrets, without shame
in to my ears, in a seductive voice.Do I like it? she snickers
I got used to it's persuasive lilt, sometimes it  sounds like a complaint.
If I turn a deaf ear, she knows how to make me listen
Then I am all ears; become her single, faithful, captive listener.
She questions me sometimes"Tell me what you know about ***?"
I go and learn the fundas on the female of the spices,
in detail, pass the test,
wonder, how little I know about her as a person. Isn't she my counterpart?
She talks about the curtain of ignorance, that still segregates  her from him
and chides me "Will you be complete, if I didn't wake you up"

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.

Her libidinous eyes like dark beetles
circled his face in ***** adoration,
numbing pain chocking his voice
he told her the crushing truth,
he was  a werewolf, without redemption,

she didn't stir, was jubilant in spreading darkness
a blush, still visible made her look more eager
"I was hoping against hope, though too suave looking,
you would be one, just take me, I am your vampire"

Slightly built, yet robust,
not frail, a daily jogger by choice,
shape conscious, proud-
about keeping the weight
in check, all these years,
articulates her feelings well
but, not the argumentative type,
this facet endears her to all,
keeps her Indian mind agile,
which reflects in her awareness
of eternity than here and now.
Takes oil bath twice a day, in keeping with
the true Malayalee spirit,
never a river in spate, yet
forceful and gushing in making heard
her opinions for others to consider,
from the first day of marriage,
unlike the demure Indian women.

None would doubt her might
that transcends the limits of material and physical,
hidden power sources are tapped at will,
cites her matrilineal heritage, that
stems form a long line of matriarchal grandmothers.

I can't imagine a day passing our premises
without she giving permission,
putting her signature,
all over each passing hour,
though we never keep a formal register for that.
Aren't we three, auxiliaries, the boys and I
in the orchestra named after this inveterate conductor?
Sweet to the core, but if needed
could be pungent, never erupts or go wild,
Smile is disarmingly gentle, yet
that firm answer, needed at the right time,
is never delayed.

Two adoring eyes flutter,
pledging support,
they never let me down, day or night.
a hand that gently touches, me
with the  fingers of reality.
when I dream in day or night.

Bamboo shoots, cooked in oil,
we munched were delicious. The tender love,
we shared, in our sojourn, in the lodge
deep inside the forest, had complemented it.
She was a playful tigress, transformed
by the atmosphere, with a manifested ****** interest,
different from her usual demure self.
One thing led to another, we fed each other,
heady vintage wine, from our mouths,
till we found out, in such circumstances,
love would make us do things,
we never imagined we could.

The sketch she made depicting us,
as two wild elephants, in musth*
rummaging the bamboo grove,
eating shoots to our fill,
reminded *Shiva and Parvathi, his consort,
taking the form of elephants
indulging  in every possible play amorous,
culminating in the birth of Ganesha,
the cute God, elephant faced,
the remover of obstacles.

Love drunk the song  we both sung,
was one of innocence.
The booming wind in bamboo leaves,
suddenly changed tune, sounding like ankle bells.
Dense, dark, green womb of forest
and the flow of wind above, like a blood stream,
kindled the prenatal memories, from deep down,
and as the background score,
cacophony of unknown birds of many feathers.

We swam in the lukewarm water,
of a day so different, with joyous abandon.
A voice mysterious, spoke in my blood stream:
"Be like birds, wind on bamboo grove, elephants seeking what they want,
the love you share would bring, fantastic results,
the world, would look far more simple,
life and death cease to be riddles, just natural,
shadows vanish, no fear remains in deep caves,
everything gently flows, like a clear river to the ocean"

Sickened he was by her bad word choices, special need for
incongruous expressions,words spelled the way she likes,
blanks that can never be filled, invented quotes, fabricated realities,
thunderous "****" repeated in intervals, as if  each an inlaid jewel,
and then, having no fixed meaning for that favorite word of hers,
nothing more than an intention to denigrate ******,
                                                                ­                   and women as a whole,
a subconscious compulsion, strangely included, her's also in it's ambit.
He understands her compulsion for such expression thus--
fulfillment of some innate need, an expression of her own worthlessness,
resulted from some grave injury of the mind that happened,
sometime early in her childhood, one could guess.
He took the decision to mark her "UNREAD" for ever
with deep anguish of course,after reading her many fine and sane pieces.

A  melting igneous rock the size of a fist, he thought at first,
kind of red, faded a bit , resembles mud, somewhat,
something familiar, it reminded, then what, it could be?
melting ice, it now seemed, but  blood oozes, or just paint?
Still he couldn't figure out what; then the shape,came to focus.
It struck him hard now "Öh! my God!" he felt like losing
his breath, how could one forget!  heartless is this world!

In a clinic, getting treated for amnesia of the soul,
I meet her, by chance and feel a sense of deja vu,
but can't place her properly,from which age do you appear?
you sure are her. Your face is familiar, even after ages,
then you ask me whether I remember; in my brain
solar flair like magnetic energy, light up hidden spaces.
The red poppy design, isn't it a pointer enough?
"The poppy effect.My insignia won't allow to forget
though I too fall in to a forgetfulness described as divine"
In a moment, it happens, I tumble down parting
thick clouds of stardust memories,fleeting, yet haunting,
intoxicating scent of poppies, ***** haze  takes me over

youth was the country, we've been banished from long time back,
I destroyed my passport, in an angst, that can never be expressed,
I land on my legs, flying down,before her curious eyes and smile,
interplanetary voyagers, we hardly know what happens to us,
like a poem with images broken as seeds  and spawn.

I was the naked man on your bed, the day you came in
under the cover of darkness, made love heartily till the morn,
you mourned aloud, I didn't stop you, no taboo,threatened me,
and you said, would never forget the play of natural instincts.
in many places we met, in some strangers, others as lovers,
each night different, with our bodies regaling in ****** finger play,
we sat opposite, had dinners, joked about blind dates, being swapped,
promised to be in touch soon and properly date, though not compelled,
to find out more about ****** habits and ,decide where to meet.

At the time of a heist, notorious, we meet in a diamond showroom,
you thought I am the kind pin that pulls the string.A mole I suspected
you were, though confident in duping you one more sweet time.
In this world of make believe, you can take me as any avatar you think.
Converging in each other's eyes, we reconcile and forgive. for this life
You whisper, "Ï knew you were a nihilist"Ẃe were, that and more,
exploring the core,till the essence inexplicable, will be  clear.

Appreciating a glass of fine wine, we sit opposite,to each other.
we shake hands and I see you off, from an underground station,
to a galaxy, light years away,called Pinwheel, a cosmic  spiral,
then, I realize, we don't exist, you , me or whoever think they are,
when we insist, we exist, forget it brother,only eternity, nothing else.

Lust, when it grips us,  is a sudden swell,  
occasional in a mountain river flowing downhill,
from the high ranges of inflamed emotions.

The ecstatic roar while the  discharge is easily forgotten ,
the river  runs dry soon enough , when the torrents abruptly stop,
as the winds chase away the clouds, all of a sudden.

But those pools, your blue,beautiful eyes, clearly defy,
rules of seasons,brims invariably with love pure, all along,
and yes,it gets replenished,from the deep well springs
of your heart, it remains full whether I am far or near.

Your mind, I can read through the mirror of dark eyes,
no iris reading technology this, an ancient practice of lovers
disagreement creeps in to your naughty mind
don't I read it's alphabets and words?
you still smile and act amiable,
just to mislead me and  hide your war tactics.
this little game of ours has a subtext of lust,
in bed we translate it to a physical duel
half moons of my nails etch  blood mark all over  your back
your sharp teeth, give quick bites, lips nibble my earlobes,
love play quickly become a rough and tumble game
when you are the naked aggressor sitting above, I the victim,
moving up and down, we inch forward to culminate in sweet thunder,
you have your sweet revenge, my lover, like in times before,
dissolving your disagreements, in my willing surrender
to your charm,  warm naked body's entrapment, every time my dream

She made it vanish
every trace of it,
with her inimitable
feminine magic.
Fully erasing my
post ****** hatred
led me from the front
to an exploration of
ardent, ****** acrobatics
that took us through the
***** dynamics of
****** healing, non peril!
Wasn’t she an all terrain ace?
Aviator making me fly
without wings above the
fluffy  soft caressing clouds
The toughest driver on roads
of all kind,keeping pleasure
at the acme through out her drive.
What a swimmer was she,making
me swoon in sensual waters.

The wild green tree speaks
to her lovers, all through the day,
flirting innocence she was
to the gentle breeze,
those lovely foliage
swaying side to side.

With the indecent demands
of the rowdy wind,
she was rumbustious
not to be left behind even a bit.
Then, the long persistent buzz,
of honey bees, theirs was
an intense affair,
with the inviting white flowers.

The tree was still, as if in goosebumps,
though impetuous, isn't it a diversion lovable?
I was the lover, hope personified,
the tree, in my dreams I wished,
was waiting with all these
momentary engagements,
for that one great love that thrills her,
from tips to the roots, deep down, unique,
in its intensity, when it happens.

The green leaves, white flowers,
the cacophony of roosting birds,
under the shade was a world,
moving on its own pace,
all the while waiting for the magic love brings.

The tree was a song of love, wind's whisper,
sweet exchanges inspiring to many lovers around,
all through the day and night.
At dark lonely nights, an oily moon appears,
very late, as if it is reluctant,
the tree stands silent,
looking wistfully at a winking star,
as if her true love was finally found,
though light years away.



**I stand lost in thought,
in my garden, where flowers wilt,
looking at the flickering light,
at your window, getting engulfed by mist

"Can't take my eyes off yours"
not withdrawing their gaze
wordlessly he and she muse
without batting an eyelid

"Ḧer eyes are a shade of blue  rarely seen ever"
he thinks, before words could charm her
she finds this" Ÿou've the eyes of a girl,
every girl that dates you, I am sure
would note it first" Isn't she right?
Öne girl knows another's heart better
then, do men stand a chance?" he wonders

"But there is a soft wave beating in the depth,
of those eyes" she softly confides
Ït arrests me,  can't take my eyes off
..is it kindness or love, or both?"
a welling within happens, he was debating just that,
but how, just how  does she know it?

"Ẅhat would you take first ?' he puts it back
  " If I offer you both?"
she smiles saying "I know what"
Close by they sit, heat permeates
from thigh to thigh, isn't it nice?" eyes probe
"Let that beam of light I see, fall straight
in to my eyes, let's burn together"

He shuts his eyes and remember
the camphor lights, soft on eyes
and oil lamps on temple walls,
flames that dance like hooded serpents
he feels the heat of her swelled up lips,
fitful bees hovering above his mouth.

his twitching hand rests
on her warm thigh, say her sighs:
" valley is abloom"

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.

In the circular lily pond--
desolate, surrounded by lush growth of
tall, entangled ***** pine plants
spewing amorous scent
in to the humid tropical air
from musky flowers, golden yellow.
hunted by swarms of bees,
                                        --  you step in.
Peeling off  your clothes to the last bit,
with a jubilance freedom bestows
you spring down, delve deep
to take bathe, knowing, I the owl
that has an eye on you always
keep watching you from the other end
in a stunned surprise to see you ****
for the first time, after long last!

In a fix you are now about my presence
when  celebrating the freedom
of a village belle, that comes rarely
on such occasions, away from all eyes that pry-

You swim a few laps, my water nymph
on your back you glide, setting the water aflame
now, you pretend to see me all of a sudden,
then, swim towards me as if your secret plan, did succeed,
I am caught in your net of love, but your ploy is different,
plead not to look at you as you swim naked,
a wily love cat, you are,  that knows her alley well.

If only, I were a water lily,I'd pretend to be your waist band
made of the stem, supple soft; the petals would jealously conceal
the secrets of your lotus, while circling the slender waist  tenderly.

White lotus, never let you forget this
you, I, or any other does not exist
outside the fiction cosmos weaves;
all of us add color to it each minute.


പ്രപഞ്ചം ഒരുകൽപ്പിതകഥ

വെണ്‍ താമരേ, ഇത് സ്വയം
മറക്കാനനുവദിക്കായ്ക!
നീയും ഞാനുമെന്നല്ല, എല്ലാമെല്ലാം
പ്രപഞ്ചം നെയ്തെടുക്കും
കഥയല്ലാതെ മറ്റൊന്നല്ല!
അനു മാത്രം ആ കഥയ്ക്ക്
നിറം ചേർപ്പവരാണ് നാം !
(Translated to Malayalam)

In deep psychedelic trance
his companion painted
canvases that mix past,
present and future, factually
as quantum physics would vouch;
all of it co-exists, don't turn
a blind eye, it's not fair.

"There is more past here
that try to unseat future,
than the presence of present,
we would make reality sleep
won't believe in its patented lies,
we'd create a present,
in its fantasy, see the future"

The narrative is pictured as fallows:
The Cat and the Mouse
stopped their games,
they invented as a past time,
and also serious business.
Lucky prince befriended
a happy pauper.
The beauty beguiled
the friendly beast,
both eloped and
lived happily somewhere.

The bored king hugged
the leader of the coup
"I was dying
to abdicate at the earliest,
you were my last hope,
good riddance" he yawned,
sounding like cockerel.
He looked much relieved;
uneasy is the head
on which a crown sits
like a ****** politico
at the moment of election result.

The painter watching
what is going on said:
"Well, the colors I selected
this far, were all wrong.
Now, I am going to look twice
before I decide"

But when she worked
on her imagination
her manifesto was thrown out,
she was far more spontaneous
there is the rub.

Can't say, whether
the philosopher was pleased or not,
one can't  definitely tell
he only smiled and hurried back to
catch the last bus he missed.

Softness has no measure,
you would suppose,
but your eyes whisper
intimate love secrets, that I gather,
those  gentle waves of softness
my eyes would finely record,
and my heart will resonate
tenderly with its every nuance.

Every look conceals alphabets of
softness, for the one intended,
as those eye lashes flutter, like a dove,
its exact measure, my mind captures,
This softness I receive and respond,
and you send moment by moment,
is the essence of passion we  deeply share.

Your voice quivers, my heart jitters,
a stylus fashioned from thought,
will etch each word,
in our inner caves, for ever to remain.
Softness spreads in the air
when you are near;
from the lovely thoughts you bring,
it permeates defying all science,
conventions and understanding,
I swing in to high gear with love fever.

*Your touch; isn't it condensed softness?
with that flower soft touch, a new level of awareness
in love, comes in to being, I fly in the air,without wings!
yet my heart craves for your eyes' special interest,

won't you oblige?

How much i love it,

she knows well,

eyes curiously down-

at me eating squid;

the eight armed cephalopod,

soft and dainty to eat,

in more ways than one,

now spread eagled in my front,

"I could eat you too

if you wish" I banter,

she looks at me mischievously as if

it's more than a joke,

and shakes head.

"Would I be as dainty

as such a fish?" she asks,

as if she is serious to get an answer,

flashing those expressive eyelashes,

clearly in a way I can see what it means!

"Yes, bilateral symmetry I have,

but not eight arms, is it okey?"

She knows all about my tastes,

(who would, if she doesn't?)

squids, octopus and the like

and clams...ooh, i love them, so much

bit sticky stuff, yes I like to mess up a bit,

that way, isn't it exciting?

I relish, squid and cuttle fish,

till I am fully satisfied.

Was she a fish in my waters?

To tell you the secret: she wasn't.

she was an octopus!

wily? yes, but lovable.

who strung me with,

her soft, supple tentacles!

Imposing her sweet wishes

on my senses,

eventually her wishes

become my commands,

to the end,

till she asks,

no more.
     )O(

He felt her
inner thunder,
waves of scarlet
reverberating
in his *****;
deep in the marrow
a pleasant tingling.
"Your sun spoke to me,
his insistence, very pleasant
reached me as waves"
later she coyly
whispered in his ears.

Let go all pretensions,
honestly compare notes
of hearts, the magic happens.
              They created their
big bang on a sprawling bed,
all are echoes, he, she and the rest.
Even the universe that pulsates
within and spreads outwards
as waves.

Quiet flows the river,
Ripples gently caress the banks,
Ravaged banks shudder!

Inhaling deep your cactus bloom,  I am on fire,
instincts are alive, you want me more deeper
the sea of tranquility now is full of dancing fire,
if sin isn't the option now, what else, may I ask?

A tailor bird, though busy wanted to stitch the best
of clothes for me to wear , in a fair, getting nearer,
so thankful, I was, though it'd hardly fit a man
of my size, I bow my head, overwhelming is her love!

The swift, I always admire for her speed, promises
to take me for an arial tour, 100 km an hour, no less
all 148gm, of love is she !though I appreciate that,hardy can
I fly with this tiny parcel of energy, many a kin whose love
again is hard to reciprocate, unless I realize we all are one.

My beloved night was dense,dark, wavy, soft velvet,
fully naked, moving in rhythm with me,  frenzied, sweet,
we moved heaven and earth to reach the acme of delight,
then flew in to a sudden  culmination,words fail to express,
the day dawned, blazing molten gold,ages were  impatient steeds,
together we rode, gained wings, became transcendentals, sublime
reached that tranquil, trident  blue peak where silence for ever reigns,
we had a deep yearning to sit and peer deep in to each other's eyes,
and see what remains after the last wave returns to the ocean's heart.

Above the emerald mountain,ran a river that fell in to an abyss,
the white foam of it's smile told us, about all we sought thus far.

"Ÿou have reached here in your frenzied search for the elusive
chasing the essence of a conundrum unexplained , cyclic, cryptic"
looking at  us sang a little bird, from a low hanging branch
of the tree of diamonds, that shaded us with it's clear light.
We felt the thousand petaled lotus  bloom within us that moment.

"Day and night are the horses that draw the chariot you ride,
an oasis you'll reach, then  hear stories that would ease your pain
you are in a story that reflects on the periphery of a bubble,
that exists in innumerable worlds simultaneously and hence
none is real, your truth you create,every minute and live"

We are somnambulists, that sit and paint colors in our fanciful dreams,
when we smile the colors stick to our souls till the apparition dissolves.

Foaming sunlight makes love
                 with the tender purple leaves of mango trees,
light crafts a crust of luminescence,
                  over the profusion of yellow and blue blooms,
avenue trees vie with each other to  hold forth
                  their  flowers on sun's water fall of light to bath.


Evening doesn't show any sign of waning
                   the ebullience  the day had sowed in the world,
"ANANDA" though unspoken as a word, aloud
                    is heard by  inner being, making everyone rejoice,
living and nonliving seamlessly join in,
                    and swim in the swelling  waters of force of life.
past invisible floats gently to the present
                  flows towards a sea of tranquility crossing nights.

When she saunters
in a two piece bikini,
without making
any  pug marks
even on soft sand,
"Which one color
adds more firepower
to her allure
enhanced figure?"
is a question
never heard aloud,
all the same,there
hovers in the thick air,
quite tangibly.
Even with all the intimate
knowledge on her at hand,
it is still too difficult
to suggest, as she moves
with the deadly confidence
of a sleek armored car,
every one that appears on
the line of fire along
the  180 degree curve
sure would go down,
that's a daily occurrence.

But if on a  bikini in white
she would be seen on the beach
absolutely mysterious she looks
the decision on this is unanimous!
how does one  know this?
     -a stunned silence every time
       happens is the clinching proof.

That girl doesn't inspire me a bit, let me guilelessly confess,
the one that sits right there,diametrically opposite to my roving eyes,
in her cozy corner, shielded from the view of most  others,
filling the seat exactly with her perfect curvaceousness,
she has false promises written all over her many allurements
for me (who else) bored to death, at this blighted moment,
triggered by scrolling account statements when all I love to see
are words, dainty pulchritudinous words, I can munch always.


In spite of my valiant efforts,to make do with what is at hand
and appreciate the poetic bit, her body language whispers,
as my existential compulsion demands, I couldn't move any further.

I do my best, try to caress her gently with my brooding  eyes,
trying hard not to look duplicitous, but my eyes, curtained off
with boredom and drooping, easily lose focus, seeing this,
her eyes pop out,yet my arrows that lost verve hit sometimes!

Now, with enthusiasm renewed,she gives it a try,but repeatedly fail,
every shot she returns is a  blank, such a cruel curse of cupid!
She is an impostor, tamed sheep cross dressed as a wanton she wolf,
the easy chemical repulsion, lectures  to me on the alchemy of affinity,
but how can I complain, it's not a clause  in her letter of appointment.