He dreamt he was Sappho's trusted companion,
To whom she shared her love's poetic lessons.
And then came this moment of revelation;
He longed to be a woman and make love to her.
Things are not as they seem  at the outset,
That part of him madly in love with Sappho"s secrets
Didn't really know is it her body, soul or poetry
That made him go mad with an intoxicating pleasure.

The other part of him in love with himself  more,
Protested"I desire her like a man does a woman"
Love is insane often, it is hidden within the masks worn.
In every passionate love affair, is a river of fire to cross.
Love puts him in a dilemma,without any resolve at sight.
In a life ensconced in fantasy, he is steeped in a  love stupor
If ever he again wakes up, he'll try to make lasting peace,
Slosh in the poetic wine of Sappho and desire her all the more.

He dreamed he was Sappho's one true friend,
whom she trusted to share her amorous secrets,
And soon this revelation; his point of no return !
He longed to be a woman, to let her make love to him!
Is it her body, soul or poetry,don't ask him
what made him truly crazy,triggering unnamed pleasures
The other part of him, in love with himself, relentlessly protests,
"My desire for her is that of  a man to a woman"

In every passion filled story of love,there is a river of fire
to cross, a challenge to to take up with a 'do or die 'spirit
Love puts one in dilemmas without resolve, and observes,
declares  one as a winner or a failure,  at the long last!

A life steeped in a fantasy, even in sleep,he is entangled
in hopeless love,which makes him a martyr, victim or hero
When he wakes up, he dreams, he'll bring about lasting peace.
By reading Sappho, till the time he decides it's enough!

A cloud of passion from above, signaled to him
to kiss her  burning lips, that look like lightening ,
blindly in love with the ever evasive ethereal swirl,
waiting to be on a date with her desperately for long,
he did it quick; a powerful surge  never felt before
radiated  through him, at  that impromptu moment,
he flew up and dissolved in a flash. without a trace.

As I drive past, I spy, in the sky
above the air force station of Bangalore,
two vrooming fighter jets,
three hedge hopping choppers,
five flitting dragon flies in mirth beyond words,
a swallow in love, with his lady love in tow;
fly in formations-
creations of own convenience,
(except for  the machines,
that strictly  follow rules)
against the big, round, magenta sun,
getting prepared
to set behind the mountains.

cosy sleep under wraps,
listening rain’s symphony;
life in half a dream!

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?

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.

Her wink had
four thousand
different meanings.
But the 'interpreter
of winks' picked one
altogether different;
that  changed everything,
the course of history even.

Aren't we dreams complex that bloomed
in the garden of *Rorschach?
ink blots with hidden meanings
where ghosts of the past roam to pluck flowers

From the elements that dance around us, I gather this and more,
a desire to be one with them, in ways one can't fully discern.
A meteorite had fallen in love with me, I am the fire raging inside her,
no evidence one has, how inner fire changes, till it happens!
Look at that distant star, does it speak? But, I know she loves me for ions.
One will better understand, if one lends ears to the tune of nature.
The wind booms its love, caresses the desire, let it grow in to a fire,
we are energies in dance, love and longing disguised, that take many forms.

Mom's fingers extend,

              to gently touch my face,

looking at her eyes, i try to guess,

                 what  she thinks, at the moment;

         yes, I can tell, just like, she could read my mind very well,

                               *the day I was born,

                                                  was what she just remembered!

When I looked at the mirror,
this morning, in a hurry,
*my father who left five years ago, forever
lovingly looked at my eyes.

I am your roar,
of anger,
pure power
released without
any reserve
creating fear
when it's the need
of the hour.

I am your fragrance,
that wafts, attracts
makes  everyone
take note.

I am your bite severe,
incisors and canines
deeply driven
without a thought,
surge of pure pleasure
expressed in a way
that may seem cruel
when the tremors of ******
washes over every cell
merging it in to a flow
seeking the sea of tranquility.

I am your moment of stillness
you, a drop of dew
that glows and awaits rebirth
when the sun kisses and dissolves you
in few golden moments.

I am your smile
so gentle, that makes
my heart stand still
with a feeling that come from
the heart of cosmos.

I and you aren't two
we lose the deep consciousness
by the play of this illusory world
where we pretend
we do things to survive
and earn a right of passage.

Nirvana happens here
in this life, in small packages,
we pretend that we are contented,
but never lose sight the truth:
eternity is our true abode,
where we aren't different,
but one and the same
along with all the others.

Thirsty beyond words
his eyes drank
from the  blue depths
of her eyes,
hungry lips munched her smile
again and again.

In the limitless, desolate desert,
facing inclement weather for long,
day and night I was searching for
"the diamond that will bring
deliverance once and for all"

That was what I was told
by the clairvoyant of the desert,
in his words mysterious,but I knew
what was the true meaning concealed.

I heard the anklets clanking behind,
but was busy churning the sand dunes
like wind,by the time I was awakened
by the music unmistakable,
I got only a glimpse of you coming

to meet me eagerly,but a fool I was,
an ostrich burying it's head deep in sand.
I've been going around the sea of sand,in vein
searching for that oasis, where you for me wait.

Wind keeps on
reminding the waves
something cryptic,
even the leaves
perking up their ears,
fail to grasp it!

Though wind
repeated it,
again and again,
leaves vacuously
rustled, remained silent.

The waves in a
spectacular pattern,
respond to wind,
desperately trying
to grab the truth.

Sitting on the shore,
between blue sea
and mountain peaks,
observing the grand play enchanting,
he feels excluded,
from this conversation,
that remains obscure;
unconsummated
between the wind and the waves.

"The meaning is right here,
but one hardly
gets it, unless
desire to attain it is overpowering"
in tears, she said
exasperated, not able to go beyond the shore.

"we are like waves and leaves,
give it a miss, get confused,
vision of ultimate truth is the crux,
unless the eyes are opened,
filled with light, one fails, has to repeat"
he replied, like one tasted failure many times.

"you've blindfolded
your eyes, willingly
and complain;
be patient
work on your
inner world,
let the light drive  away the night"
the master smiled as he said.

"Roaring wind and waves
fire, earth and space,
the secrets they hold
are within the inner world"

At the end of narrow path
is the placid pond
where water is still:
truth absolute is reflected.

**"Life after life,
one walks round and round
seeking that blue stillness,
where one would
see one's true self reflected,
when the moment arrives."

In her cryptic words
a thoughtful owl,
proclaimed aloud
secrets never known;
the horn bill was loud
in registering his objections.
Let it be hidden,  he said
like jewels in the folds of rocks,
only ones who searches deserves it.
The forest went still
the next moment;
a harmonious silence resulted,
the tussle, in it was dissolved.
The night--
quickly took over,
spread it's net of noises
inter spaced with silence-
that engulfed all discords,
orchastrated it as music,
then wrapped up everything
in darkness opaque.

Yes, she stole my thoughts*

devoured, digested and made her own
in the shortest possible time one could imagine,
made her imprint to make it a through job.
all between a stuporous sleep of my unmaking
after that frenzied mating instigated by
her  cheating instinct at its acme.

she did it quietly in the dim light
of the zero watt bulb,
after we slept together
for the first time;
it was eerie
my romanticized thoughts
were the first to
get drawn out,
a tree full of wild red blossoms,
the name of which slipped
from memory to oblivion,
migratory birds of different feathers
sitting on that tree chirping in love's sweet passion.

i woke up
when the thoughts circling
like blood in my veins were touched,
she was there prowling
with the look of a witch,
a happy one at that
how victorious she looked!
my angst has no place in her scheme of things
after that, she coughed and spat
and pretended ,IPR never was violated
When you get bitten by the
serpent called  lust,
and two ***** conjoin,
thoughts go down and hide,
one become unreasonable
and glide through moonlit sky,
stars wink, thoughts wink back,
and the stupor takes over.

yes, she stole my thoughts
how could one complain?
You need to be one or the other at a time.

water body bobs,
with hidden intentions;
good, bad, neutral..what?

Though an anchored boat,
my silent mind goes adrift
as lapping waves sing

billowing black clouds,
a silly sneeze of a rain;
such an absurd scene!

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

Everything would come to an end,my love
             even the frenzied season of love we celebrate.
In loneliness I muse, dreamily
             pour the molten gold of my heart, incessantly
in to molds one after another;
            on this one I don't have to remind myself not even once,
in my consciousness  this abstract is darkly painted
                 on it's live silvery screen:

She sits waiting patiently for me to come to rest,
                 in that secluded, quiet house
where love and longing, sighs and moans,
                  even the poetic cadence, my only aphrodisiac,
like many hued evening clouds,
                       disappear in the dark, till the next day dawns.

The night sky of sleep
was ebulliently psychedelic,
specs of colors, yellow, brown, red,
created an ancient language
that spoke, secrets of a forbidden past,

The helicopter crept through,
the sky, tearing the canopy
of lights momentarily,
landed on a high rise apartment of dreams.

                                Now, after all these years,
difficult to remember,
who lives where;
aren't we somnambulists,
without navigational aids?

I would suddenly wake up
from one dream
                             within another -

soft touches of tender fingers,
sweet whispers in my ears,
soft light spreading its palm on an exposed shapely breast,
                                                         ­         I'll sense a disquiet,
a sigh, the pangs of a weeping heart, incidental results of
a life of passion, strife and agitation,
getting ****** by currents,
diving deep in to swirling waters
                                                          ­    

                                                           ­     In a dream, a young woman,
                                                          ­      standing on a podium, in a class room,
                                                           ­     teachers in a trembling voice
                                                           ­     how to appreciate poems:
                                                          ­      "From beyond light years,
                                                          ­       comes our grief..."
                                                       ­         the scene dissolves in to mist.
                                      
                    ­                        silence!


I am an yellow moon,
she is the pale mist circling,
we are in an embrace, momentarily,
                                         in a dream
in the jeweled bed of the night sky.

Night’s open black book,
Tells million stories of light;
Ever expanding!

I save this enchanting  poem
my lonely resurgent lover,
for a life, after this one of
struggle and strife,
I am not sure, when
would it be.
Thrown in to the darkness
I will embrace it's cadence,
with all my being, dwindling, sad
to kindle a drop of light,one after the other,
till the moment of liberation.
A poem to fuel my funeral pyre
to beacon you ,searching for
a music lost, longtime before
forever,forever,forever.

I save this scent,exquisite
wafting in the mountain air,
the vine so innocent
anointed me with
only for this evening
for you to recognize me
as your true beloved,

But I am lost in the thicket
of scented flowers,so sweet
and lost in the sad thought:
"How she would find
my scent distinct from others"

We are cheated by beauty
to which we pledge our
beating heart,without
remorse  of any kind.

Love takes us for a ride
cashing in on our innocence,
making us fools of love's
sweet nothings that
dissolve in thin air..

Still love reigns
craving for beauty would never stop!
we are in a journey from darkness to light.

Sad eyed men, inebriated by pain, unshaven
eyes swollen, red faced, sleepless at night
loneliness perpetual  haunting them like
the ghosts of days dead, in single minded pursuit
perturbed by pains of every imaginable kind
in a devine trance one with dark frightening silence
pouring out their heart in blood dripping details,
tears mingle with words' firepower,molten lava gushes

A fiery woman, though,weak,meek and looks frail,
writes in a fierce frenzy,as if it's her life or death game
there are nail marks all over her emaciated body
as if a famished tiger has badly mauled her.
No trainer of beasts she ever was....
All the living witnesses, her suffering,festering wounds,
a derailed mind,her companion,once in insane anger gifted!

See weeping woman,men in anguish
in the fear of losing long cherished love,  
poring out the lava of fear,anguish and pain,
Wounded men and women with an orchestral precision
write seeking happiness,but in words couched in pain.
And then there is this one;eyes fixed at the  moon,
getting his fix for the day and the fuel for poetic pen!

All of them poets were in a world each of their own.
"Not sane or insane,wildly ecstatic, still in inescapable pain"
the caresses of poetry's fingers result in that,
And look those children running after butterflies!
poems, they would be thinking are colorful wings and feathers.
song,dance,mirth and celebration, alas! it isn't!

Deep in the wild,
when exploration led to
intoxicating moments,
she whined, in a way suggesting
she needed more,
whimpered ambiguously,
let out broken cries,
like yelps of pleasure,
purred a little,
as the engagement
became congenial.

When the waves that lashed
became strong and
she felt out of control,
she yelled out,  so colorfully
braking all barriers of mind,
till her lust exploded,
in a spectacular way,
she wreathed like a bull
struck by the matador's sword,
squirming and murmuring,
till the waves slowly retreated.

Slowly  she opened her eyes
as if she was in a prolonged sleep,
and  then,winked at him
mischievously as if to say
their tango with
intimate moments was
a gift of
**nature's quest
to blend complements
in to
one.

In a spire, in the white mansion you live in a colorful dream,
but here in this dungeon, of a nightmare I am trapped in reverse time,
a secret passage will bring us together, says your incredible message
but my love, tell me how, if I am forbidden from even dreaming you?

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

On a lonely night
when my moon
refused to show her face,
even after pleading
till my heart broke,
in to pieces of gold
and diamonds,
dedicated to her
all covered with love
dripping like drops of blood,
darkness forced me
to confess the love crimes
I never did commit
I thought it will set everything right
but in vein....

Wolves howled with
a mad glee to make me
nervous thinking that
you'll be frightened,
the owl, in silence
pretended to be all knowing
but not a wee bit
about the gravity of our love
registered in his mind,
hooted again and again
"She doesn't love you"
in a  voice reeking vengeance.

My love, I never thought
of a cup hemlock, a bodkin
or a flight to darkness
from the hill, we used to sit
heart beating against heart
when
          you
                  gave
                             me
the portion of your love
for the first time from your
trembling lips....................
I am enscorned in you
you are in my veins
immortal I am
I'll meet you in your abode,
even if you fail to keep your word
and don't turn up in our rendezvous.

the jasmine bush, whose
fragrant buds just bloomed
took me in her ***** and
wrapped me with her scent
of love, what a solace!

"Your love is immortal
never grieve, your true love,
never would perish, it would
stand the tests, however tough
she is always yours, you are hers
in this life and lives to come"

I slept like kid under the jasmine bush
like a kid in his mother's bed
she covered me with her tears
of falling flowers, till dawn appeared,
at last I saw my beloved in my dreams.

A dark, sensuous, blithe, night
seduction is her sole intent,
beating in tune with the heart of
a lover, an adventurer, a crazy poet,
a beggar, a courtesan, a clown or a priest,
     prompts each one to do what to them please,
     to the manner born, unconcerned  of darkness and light,
     her knitted quilt thrown over their heartbeats rhythmic.
Sleep is the best refuge  for the uninspired, lonely, sick,
love, ***, any number of intriguing options she offers for her lovers,
and when the clock of night is torn open by the impatient sun
and day arrives with vengeance to reclaim its land,
with daggers of  sadness stuck to heart, bleeding
they move, like shadows doddering in the path of life.

such eloquent eyes,
her luminous spirit's dance;
love, to him gifts two wings!

In the wondrous story book of night,
               I fully absorb and contemplate,
You were the one omnipresent,
               in light years far and flames near.

                                   As orbs of light, in many intensities and hues
                                                     the ray of infinite grace that envelops,
                                      That feels like the caressing of lotus petals,
                                                    was you my eternal beloved.

Soft, frothing moon light has been
         at times of pain my true consolation,
The moving comet my source of wonder,
          that takes me to you in imagination.

                                             A reader, I was keenly searching.
                                                      ­for meanings of things in light and dark
                                               Being another character formed
                                                        of­ dust sedimented from many stars.

You are enshrined in the diamond
               temple of my mind's still center
making you my lover was
               in honor of my yen for sublime.

                                               The story book of night has pages
                                                         on spirited mornings, noons and dusk
                                                  your benign presence in each step,
                                                           ­ moves galaxies and milky ways.

I see your moving eye brows
   in the tumult of dark rain clouds,
Your intense eyes flash love to me
    when in pain,if  I feel some doubt,
                                                          ­  

                                                     In waves one after another of ocean,
                                                          ­   your hands embrace me to assure,
                                                       mountain wind from far distance
                                                        ­     brings your songs nightingales sing.

I am a living monument that's breathed
         from the elements , to keep on loving you
not ever a  jealous lover,I am like  a millioner
       ready to sacrifice all just for your presence.
                                                       ­   

                                                Is there any other lover with such care
                                                  who brings  boundless grace, like you?
                                                   you've the very same eyes of my mother
                                                          ­ that reach me the moment I fall.

In days I am moving within a dream
       for which, you are the creator, moving spirit,
I turn the pages of storybook of night
   whenever I want to be closer to your warmth.
                                    

                                                    A mirror you are reflecting my candor,
,                                                        ­ more than anything I ever yearned for,
                                                     You are the river that flows along  me,
                                                      ­   to the ocean, eternally seething in wait.

In the wondrous story book of night
                 I eagerly absorb and fall in to contemplation,
You were the one omnipresent,
                  across light years and flickering flames near.

As orbs of light in many intensities and hues,
                 the rays of infinite grace that envelop me,
what feel like the caresses of lotus petals
                 was your love,my eternal beloved.

Soft,frothing moon beams has been
               my true consolation at times of deep pain,
the swishing comet, my constant wonder
               takes me to you in my imagination.

I was an enquirer,eagerly searching
               for the meaning of my existence.
transforming from one to another
               formed by dust gifted by unknown stars.

Enshrined you are in the diamond
                 temple of my still mind,
making you my lover eternal,
                 I honored my yen for the sublime.

The story book of night tells,
                about spirited mornings,noon and dusk
your benign presence was in each step,
                 of the motions of galaxies.

I see your quick moving eye brows
                  in the tumult of the black rain clouds.
your intense eyes flash love in lightening
                when I feel starved of your love

In waves one after the other, your hands
               embrace me,I am reassured once more,
mountain wind from afar bring
                your songs, a  lonely nightingale sing.

I am a living monument, that breathes
           your love from elements to live on,
like millionaire,that's ready to sacrifice
             everything for the ecstasy of your presence.

There isn't any other lover who cares,
             like you who brings such grace to a beloved.
you've the very same eyes of my mother
             that wouldn't miss me wherever I am.

like her whenever I fall your hands
               seek me pulling up my mind
you are a presence constant
                  I haven't missed you ever anywhere.

In days I move within a dream
             having created it,you know where I am,
as I turn the pages of the story book of night,
             whenever I want to feel closer, you are there.

You've been the mirror reflecting my candor,
              you are more than anything I've ever yearned,
the river that carries me, that I am one with,
             a flow we are to the ocean of consciousness.