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

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

In her dark, crinkly map of life,
drawn from shady experiences
she courted in her forgettable past,
hope was an island fully obliterated,
not even a dot was left as a mark
nothing identifiable was there, just water.
Perplexed she stood, not knowing
how to reclaim any of it, even if it's in depth.
Then came the mysterious redeemer,
uncaring about his fate;
innocence was writ large on his face,
she roped him in to helping her.

He dived deep in to her deluged past,
dredged enough, from under,
gave her hope a shape and size,
to make an island, that would give her life.
The beauty he created for her sake was unbelievable,
no monument of love would have looked so resplendent!
That's where she brought her new lover over,
a character as shady and vicious as her,
her somersault was indeed spectacular
none had witnessed such a heartless trick, till then!
She forgot the past, the deluge that engulfed her hopes,
the mysterious redeemer and all that.

all she wears
is a smile

Are you the surge, triggering the flight of the transcending bird?
the  ultimate mystery, unspeakable, that liberates the seeker.
While awaiting the wingless flight, the moment of soul's effulgence,
you too are a mystery , like the all encompassing spirit, I am one with

The universe is not wholly cognizable,constant transformation
one to something drastically different, and the story never ends.
Known physics, could tell the story,only halfway, the rest is dark
I understand the helplessness of space observatory at Herschel
peering at vast Magellanic cloud galaxy, a mystery in the move.

Muriel, when  our eyes first met and  your name  rolled off my tongue with a fine ring,
felt, I was charged with your sun-filled-sea-radiance from inside out
just the cadence of a name has an unctuous something! I've never known that  before,
just saying it evocatively few times, I felt touching your heart; a golden thread did bind us then.

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

a garden unkempt,
she took him,made an attempt.
he is more than real!

Not
fine clothes
or diamonds;
the milk of human kindness.

Her stolen heart was left unannounced at my door step
I know  the last place she would like to look for it, is this.
Yet I kept it warm and safe, with in the flannel of love
still wet with the tears she once shed,  but tattered a lot;
I'll keep it like times before, till she has the presence of mind,  
to retrace the steps to my door step, she could never forget.

This being the usual place to find her discarded heart
many come knocking my door, inquire what is it's state
plain curious they are, more of a usual ritual, familiar
"You do cradle it far too long, isn't it still a child, refusing to grow?"
I pretend ignorance, loyal to her, the heart that was once mine alone,
I'll never let down my split love,sell or barter what is left in that love
only wait for her without rancor till the tired foot fall of hers
echoes after the pale moon has risen, climbed high up in the sky,
hesitantly at last she will come to my door, find, it's again discarded,
as ever I am the only one,  her last resort, though she hates to accept.

Then she weeps leaning on my chest, grief haunts her without fail
far a while, she cries, as she limps back with her brooding heart
I go to sleep, thinking how a love once moved  mountains,
                                               ­                                              had gone waste

She dons every cap,
But the credit still eludes;
The fight continues!

Every time she appears,
in the limelight, emerging
from the corners shadows prowl,
in no time she mercilessly steals
all the charm from girls all round
and then every one is compelled
to talk about her in hushed tones.

"Stop this wily moves to steal a march
do you think I am unaware of your tricks?"
in to her ear I would whisper,
as if advocating for others,who lose face,
when we dance face to face, in total abandon.

She would pretend innocence,
look at me as if she was cheated ,
go back to her silent  planning,
for the next theft between deft dance moves,
her disarming style, curtains off her wile.

Eager morning light,
              nibbles her little by little;
*isn't it quite evident?
               she is  dainty and fresh!

Sun flowers in full bloom are what he sees in place of her eager eyes,
at the very moment, he transforms; another Van Gogh in creative frenzy.
Her eyes are alive, from them  swarms of crazy bees fly seeking him
her each desirous glance, goes straight to his heart, sting again and again,
hapless he becomes, as the sweet pain in his heart grows more and more,
revealing true colors, the lovely CARDIAC NURSE takes charge of him.

Morning sun splashes
molten gold over ripe wheat fields,
Spellbound,  stands a village lass,
she feels like a dragon fly, fragile but mirthful,
her spirit soaring high above the clouds,
one of those uncommon moments in her life,
when she felt something beyond words happening to her
she doesn't know how she forgets her dreary life
in which one day is just like any other.

Demure village belle, in her bright colored
patch-work dress, traditionally worn by women,
in Northern Indian villages, bathed in sun, walks alone,
through the winding village path, crossing fields.

Her smile conceals the pain, the thorns on her path give,
walks miles and miles in scorching tropical sun,
to the common well to get the water filled
in an earthen ***, carried on her head.
Her silver ankle bells, incessantly tell the tale of
harassment and violence, cheating, bullying, all that,
by ruffians, tricksters, con men and the like prowling,
on the wayside.Her own family members are no less!
**"It's all in a woman's life" she mumbles, curses fate-
something she has not fully understood, is this
why fate mostly interferes with the lives of women?

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!

Learning to write letter "B"
my little son tries, I curiously see
to get in to its spirit so abstract
through its concrete form,
by finding an analogy-
he could relate well and not forgotten easily.
more like a bee using wax to make a shape it likes
and then seeing it as the hive he wanted to make,
watching him I think, as his cute hands draw
the twin swells forward, with such interest,
eyes for a moment glint, as if to say" yes,I get it"
"Look dad, isn't it just like milk?" he exclaims!

I know 'milk' is  the word he associates
with the source of milk, from the days he was breastfed,
"B'with its shape  fits the bill, to be treated with love
"B" he finds reminds him the milk of mother's love.

I wasn't listening to the whispers of the moment
that embraced me tight; her vigor was such that
I did completely surrender to the bliss enveloping.

The night, spiritedly dancing, said something softly
in her characteristic language,darkness spotted with light.
A distant star,witness to this pantomime got impatient, yelled
at me for not listening; being unaware of the larger picture:

" I am past,robbed by light years, kept a prisoner for your eyes,
still unabashedly yearning to be in present,keeping my hopes alive,
Listen to what night says, get the essence of the moment, remember,
the morning is going change everything,then it would be lost for ever.

The night fell silent for a moment,extending her tender hand, winked.

Holed up in a bunker, a soldier dreams that the war is over.
It's just poetic justice, a dream for an emerging new dawn.

See, every soldier defying orders, leaves the post and embrace
the one whom he was made to think as enemy in his naivety
they dance in the no man's land, where they plant a rose garden

With them aloud, let's chant,"Bury the guns fellas, war is a tale
told by perverts of the worst kind, just to sell deadly warheads.
that **** happiness, book the culprits that make war, allow them not
to fornicate truth, blatantly like this, deceive the world , gift turmoil."

Plan A: there is none as such;
though unflinching ego makes
complex calculations, concludes,
reassures it is best laid for sure.

Plan B, hence has no actual relevance
A mountain river, life is, it rushes
the way the cryptic GPS message directs.
If you ask how it works, try to understand
the intricate organic correlations, involving factors
that  even a super computer can't process
but your mind would, somehow easily tell you
in a clear voice, if only you are ready to  listen.

Every best laid plan is merely a wish
the more profound is spoken as a prayer
words addressed to the voice inside, that listens and acts
fulfillment then, is an emotional construct
you need the scent of that flower to inspire life.

Who says the cosmic plan is mysterious?
One who walks the karma path right, even when eyes closed
knows how to reach where one is headed to.
The truth this: one leads oneself, so keep the inner eyes open.

Subtle wishes that bring smile on the face of thy neighbor
are much more meaningful than selfish desires

1.
Eyes, eager fish, in deep Himalayan blue, splash and swim
the ultramarine sky of the mind, gets color coordinated, in resonance
wind from across the ranges, incessantly chant  guttural "Öm"
gently spreads waves, that on ears, vibrate as music,divine
our feet get liberated from mind's control,  the trek becomes us.
2.
Eyes now, turn swifts, fly to the valley extending to horizon,
teeming with flowers of every hue, profusion of orchids,
rolling white clouds above,create *tantric patterns
of grace, swirls, swoops,scoops, somersaults,the trek goes on.
3.
Melting ice, fits well on the conical brown mountain tops,
a white bodice, perfect cover for her lovely peaks,
angular mounts gleam in the limitless avalanche
of light, an impulse for benediction is palpable.
4.
Simple folks of village, on the way side
in flowing colorful dresses *****, tall poles
festoons of bright colors, joyous prayer flags   flutter in wind
proclaims festive spirit, they vigorously wave.
5.
Now heart overwhelms, sings the paeans of
a sky that changes it's face from blue to white
and sometimes, a hue so bleak, deep gloom,
on red brown earth, sun light prances around.
6.
The grass bed then transforms quick,
mind drinks the dense benediction peace brings
that coils inside the soft blue waves, beating within and out
7.
Himalayan blue has taken us in to it's embrace
bird songs ring along the path of ancient sages,
who went in to the forest abode to contemplate, never returned,
became one with the hum of cosmos, they walk within us.

Revving up the engine
of the gleaming funky machine
before zooming around, gave her
such an Adrenalin high, nonperil.
The constant ****** no guy ever could
promise, this act gives her.
She is pleased for that moment,
gets ready for the ****** rigmarole,
the very next second.

She gets jealous of her
own story, ever heard of that?
On the race course and the spread bed
alike her ebullience creates
tsunami waves,broke long standing records.

When you run fast enough
there comes a moment,when
there is no record left to break!
and the beds, you guessed right,
all are broken, made redundant.

And then the inevitable happens,
she smells leaking gas, panics,
freezes on the track, shuddering,
switches off quickly the engine
of her dream machine,her heartbeat,
makes the final escape,spontaneously,
without delay, decides to renounce
worldly pleasures altogether,
up to the Himalayas goes by foot, seeking
that thing which in life she missed all along,
Finds silver light's play on ice caps, and realize this:
she was walking through a dark, dark  tunnel ,
of self-deception,"Affluenza" was indeed her affliction.

The Himalayan snow cap, loomed large as an attraction,
in her dreams once, now seemed less formidable, at arm's length,
"What a Guru,who looked timelessly ancient,
jokingly predicted  once, comes true here"she muses.
Her trek upwards resumes with a vengeance.

1
*He packed his bags to leave the town, along with his love,
but not all that soon as they had promises to keep
but when she said in hushed whisper,
being a bird of passage, she would leave soon,
he didn't in his wildest dreams thought,
she would leave him behind.
2
He can't do without her a minute,
she too would feel the same, he had no doubt,
she heard what he said and enchantingly smiled,
she didn't say yes or no, he was bit puzzled
pale she was, like a withering flower, for that, he loved her more
she looked so vulnerable, he wanted to protect her for ever.
3
This inn does't belong to them, they are helpless,
have to concede to the laws, imposed on them
finding true love is like winning a game of dice
there isn't any rule to make sure one will win, so he makes sure
to follow the itinerant maiden, wherever she desires to settle.
She took leave of everyone near and dear; a ritual heart breaking
how lucky he was , the only one to be with her, every single time
she controlled herself , a brave heart she is,
none, even her kin offered to go with her except him
she didn't have any baggage, he took many with him,
she just smiled and gently reminded him, this:
"Travel light always, you wouldn't have to jettison anything"
He saw a cryptic smile play on her lips again.
4
"Look! how simple my love is" he beamed within him
they were at the ferry, he didn't see any one there other than them,
he , his love and her dog; then ferry boat came
"Space only for you and your dog" a voice without a face said
They got in, the dog first, she pretended she didn't see him there.
in that moment he knew where he stood in this deal;
this world is an illusion where love makes us all fools
5
Each one has to stand alone, watching  the karma wheel's turn
no one is shade for the other, karma decides
she was another, though they were one,
what an illusion this is, if caught in its web, it slowly kills
Did she mumble something, before the boat chugged off?
"We'll meet there, where time and space is a myth"

With a start he wakes up, hearing muffled cries from around.

he left himself loose,
in beauty's collected works;
returned enlightened

The gun, gleaming in the darkness of subconscious
a phallus, stiff and red with frustration.
Then, this hallucination suddenly erupts
in the crowded netherworld, dark interiors:
a doubt, whether those thrusting *******
and pouty lips tempt onlookers to make up their minds?
Are there daggers hidden in those eyes, that confront?

Hold back the wanton gun and thought that stray;
be guarded when handling those, demons
breathe deeply, wait a minute, bring sanity back in position,
learn the essentials of gun control, if you want
undisturbed sleep in your bed, all nights
Love thyself, aware of the bindings of love, the light, smiles.

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.

Sitting across
my eyes study you;
a painter taking
in his model, to mind's portal:
you sit hunched
over the dining table top,
a work of art
"The girl in a hurry
taking few quick bites"
                               I am a picture
                               yet to be attempted
                              "The man in agony"
                               would have  just dark hues,
you left in a huff
to catch the inter-city train,
I work at night,
so went to lay down,
                                 When my eyes drooped
                                 I leaned against  you,
                                 your scent has such
                                 soporific touch
                                 that bring longings
                                 soon to the fore.
And in my sleep I remember,
you'll be lying in my bed,
with in your lonely mind
all through commuting,
rocked by the train.

You are the erroneous mirror
also the distorted, reflected figure,
and the observer, the  root cause of all,
just, comically absurd,if you see straight.
But this plight, to you remains alien always.
as the logic works outside the bubble.

A honeybee stings hard.
It draws back its sword and speeds;
Did it harm itself?

too drunk honeybee,
stumbled out of the flower;
wind whisks him away!

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

Unlike the males of the species,
mostly hunter-gatherers by nature,
on each girl, gently sits
a charm, one thing or other,
(to the ones she chooses,
more than others,
it rubs off, leaving an effect)

**But note this,
an unlikely item here:
at the height of her ****** rigor,
this sultry siren, sans peril
wouldn't care a fig
about her democratic rights,
you won't believe, not even human values!

The red rosebud, bitterly wept,
and said" I am full of guilt
          I don't want
                   to bloom at all"

A boulder, black granite, love oozes  in its core,
but none would believe the truth, it slept,
hearing the foot steps of passing millinnia,
birds and butterflies on their journey
took it as a shelter and sat in its shade,
beasts sometimes, sharpened their claws on its corners,
big cats bit it, in a bid to make it submit and surrender,
warriors in their frenzy to eliminate enemies
sharpened their war axes and swords on it.

None saw love pulsating inside,  even without a heart,
or asked it how it felt, when treated
like just a stone without future.
It had love in many depths, it never regretted,
being a stone, formed with  ingrained lack of love,
the journey became tough, as it just began.

It needed to bear it, make the dark core melt by its
acquired sensitivity,  through experiences-
it comes across; every bird, bee and butterfly was its teacher,
in its longing to break in to grains of sand and fertile earth
begin a new cycle, that'll take many millenniums.

One day a blue bird sat on its shade
looked at it as if it heard something and asked"Are you listening?"
heart of the stone was overwhelmed, "My dear we were soul mates,
I never could imagine, you 'd come searching for me-
in my cursed state.Sing, so that your song could melt me to life"
And she sang about billowing clouds and copious rains,
love, its magic and songs frozen in stones.

The stone melted when love poured over it,
it was a new beginning; stone to fertile earth.