Breeze shuffles leaves,
returns to caress the fruits missed,
soft tete-a-tete

Out of the blue, she blurted out,
"Peculiar stuff, I want to assert"
I had no guess what was her find.
(More like many a times one sees onself
in turns of life, unexpected, I presumed)
"Oh! is it? tell me all about it " I enthused,
And woke up at the very same moment
in to a dream, of different kind, half progressed,
There was no trace of a 'her' in this dream I wormed in!

Solitude has swooned,
Drinking silence to the lees;
Eternity’s flash.

The pool glistened
in wet moonlight,
wearing a  haze
like in an ***** eater's vision.
the deep blue waters
that lay still
has something to tell
one would think,
he was glad to see
such clear water,
that reminded him
something vague

"Answer my questions"
from the pool intoned a voice
"before stepping in to this water,
your ablution can wait a bit,
would you like to taste
this water, and find out
its origin, if you could, then step in"
"Why not" he replied with confidence,
"I am enamored by this sight,
such loveliness makes one
forget pain of every kind
now, let me know it a little better"
when his tongue touched
the water just once, a flash
struck,  remembrance came
rushing towards him like
the curse of  tsunami waves,

her pearly tears it were,  collected
on its own, for many years.
he sat by the pool, guilt ridden
torn apart by grief, cruel vultures,
till the moment his eyes fully dried,
he was let out from the house of pain.

Water color painting of her mindscape
visualized by an artist of repute
and its map, though not drawn on a scale
yet shows the topography and neighborhood,
gives a concrete idea to plan the conquest.

A route map to her heart, meticulously prepared
marking all shortcuts and blockages of passages,
that may lead to confusion and mix up
is an essential tool now at hand

A modern day marauder is just that
he has no time for sentiments of a pusillanimous lover
sentiments are bothersome,  portend troubles in store
if logistics are right, plan is great, any peak will stoop,

But yes, the moon they say plays havoc,
love poems that knead the hearts, songs and music
too, if comes between, the project may go bonkers
the problem here is the reign of unpredictability
when love starts its gallop and emotions the other horses
just follow without rules  whatsoever,
isn't it unwise trying to stop a dam breach?
Not even the dam breach software be of any help here,
no study is yet available on dissipating such passion,
dynamics of love is an unknown country altogether
no intelligence available is effective to move
against it and make the conquest certainly possible.

Dear one,
as desired,
meticulously
corrected
the mistakes
you made,
one by one.
In the process
added my own,
do I need to tell?
I take refuge
in the thought
that it was expected
when you chose
me for this job.
All I can say is this:
we complement
each other;
but perfection
is the mirage
we relentlessly
search in this desert.

It's in her signature scent and erogenous warmth
when her full lips are pressed ******* mine, I bask in,
when a pernicious current flowing  through me makes
my mind spin out of control, how disastrous are
the consequences! I see heavenly bodies gyrating closer,
it's now certain that I'll fall prey to her wild charms,
and gladly be her slave for all the times to come!

What an infamy it would bring to my beloved, forget me,
her beauty immaculate, too will be a suspect then.
Oh! I can't think of it, it'll break my heart for ever,
my sweet Valentine, forgive me for feigning indifference.

In flow I’m yet still,
Present here, but eternal;
A mystery clear!

The night is young,
dark, lascivious and willing
expectations and I
sit hand in hand with her
keeping the tempting
sleep at bay, for long.
Your part of the bed
is still warm, I imagine,
                         anyway
I kept your dinner
packed in the fridge,
warm it up and eat
if you are too late.
I won't be able to take
any call from infinity
if I am being fornicated by
my concubine
an old dream of passion
that keeps on soliciting,
but don't know when
would it knock on my door.

Turbulence and tranquility,
the waves taught me both,
from seagulls came
silent flights, smooth landing
on moving waves
and cacophonous rage,
dervish dance was the gift
coconut groves granted
during the months of monsoon,
the art of hiding sweetness
within hard shell, too was their lesson,
"Don't exhibit,
let them find out coconut water
if only they deserve" the tall palms
implied while they danced like
feverish, passionate lovers,
hair splayed, rocked by crazy winds.

Your eyes spoke about a kind of
beautiful transience and unaffected calm,
at the end of the quest for the ultimate.

From many we flow towards one,
tranquil, eternal, omniscient.
I pick and choose from various notes
to create a symphony of accord
knowing in my heart that it's what we all share.

Night took me to the heart of deep sleep
and said the specs of light will not perish
"Cherish it to make  days of sun and dance
then come back to the ample ***** of darkness"

Youthful spirit told me about the alchemy of love
between hearts and heart breaks too, that teaches one
that sadness has it's sweetness.

Walls proclaimed all about limits,
also patience and courage to break it,
if one removes stone after stone bearing pain
every wall will eventually fall.

coyotes growl in the dark,
night has kept hidden so much;
dawn a dream away!

You didn't see the lacerations
on this wanderer's heart,
he followed you wherever you go,
drank from the enchanted pond
of your beauty, got tipsy
couldn't move from here
as a silver ray of light, tied him for ever.
Like a pixie, you made him loose his bearing,
got drunk with love, your sweet poison,
he lost his way out from here,
he loves the feeling,
getting pixilated by you, to him is heaven,
he just wants you to be his dancing partner.
Life is a wild dance in the forest,
memories of varied kind we planted, ourselves,
grow, flower and spread musky scent,
all we take away are the pollen stuck
to our ecstatic gyrating souls,
and a bit of light we earn on the way
by loving one another deeply with heart.
Pour me one more drop of that-
drink, beauty you carry so light,
let me go for a trip
to the far continent of your soul,
and merge with that landscape.

You are an artifact, chiseled alabaster,
       I am just molded plaster of Paris,
You remain rich shiny white,
      irrespective of seasonal changes,
I need frequent  involvement of hands
      that know their craft well,
to be seen as an object of art, that barely survives,
    but still brittle, would easily turn to dust.
Men and women are different, inside out
    I was told, I see it myself now and delighted!
Over and over again I ask you to be aware of
      the limitations that tie me down and forgive
but you won't accept, go on with your life quietly
       caring so much to keep my sinking heart buoyant.

A regal white heron,
a bird of passage
that had followed
it's beloved dream
a long, long distance,
sits quiet unmoving,
atop a flowered lemon tree
on the bank of a tranquil pond
that wasn't known to it before.

Fish, enjoying freedom,all along
play meddling it's reflection
as if daring the heron to act
by trying to catch it's attention.

The crowned heron,
more placid than the pond
on the wings of an elating thought
resumes journey chasing it's dream.

Sky was clear, deep blue,
When a jet plane passed through;
Aesthetically foul!

seed:the playwrite's thought,
director prepared the field;
actor's sowing act!

Swim was my pleasure.
Now the floods took the low lands;
Fish swim in houses!

I won't mind being surreal,
if you won't scurry
seeing me in my real self,
and kind enough not to
think of me as outlandish
as something like 'Shrodinger's cat'
kept in a box
that is both alive and dead!
(to the universe outside the box
as the' Copenhagen interpretation' implies,
dont ask me how!)

I am least interested in'quantum entanglement'
which i can do without, but oh! mathematics
that mother of all sciences is hell bent, it seems
to hunt me down till I say uncle.

They have  told me ,
what I am now
is not mathematically possible!
(whatever it means)
They looked at me as if
I don't exist.

(Oh! my poor Shrodinger's cat
I now understand your plight;
oh ! to be both dead and  'undead' theoretically
when reality chooses to go naked!)

I just said this:
I have no use to mathematics
that refuses to believe in me
if maths find me unacceptable
all I want to say is this,
how would maths even touch poetry with a barge pole?
and don't forget, maths creates the poetry of the universe!

Oh! I am confused
forgive me for being Buridan's ***
that sees in maths 'Shrodinger's cat'


They looked horrified
and in a moment
turned to thick smoke
and dissolved!

Dear wordsmith, lovely mind, should I tell you,
cosmic dust settled to create this  earth?
How enchantingly you write, unparalleled aesthetic delight,
                                      
                                           *
                                       *
                                                       *
*all from those distant dusty nothing! I am so amazed!

poetry
    moves
      like
       ghosts;
           if explicit,
                       no poetry,
                                  no ghost.

Reading  from it's book of absurdity, for you and me is a daily routine,
do I  get conditioned to meekly accept life's brutal reality you ask me
Even on a bed of burning coal, I've seen dancers amaze with alacrity,
I fight back those slings and arrows with the sheer verve of my poetry.
From  lonely walks, through inner paths every time I return smiling
my golden retriever faithfully follows with the day's happy find.

A fruit, tasting truly different, it was what I needed,
because in every bite, it satiated my desire, inexpressible
I climbed to the top branch of the fruit tree and
plucked the most sun drenched juicy one gleaming.

But it didn't put out the fire raging in my heart, though
the sweet fruit made me withdraw and be quiet
for a short while and then I went in search of another
when it dawned on me that it's a rare root, with
magical effects, that the nomads collect from hidden woods,
and it is the stuff used at the  dead of night for alchemy
the chemical work that makes even the cheapest metal gold!

I went seeking a girl,who was described in revelations--
her bewitching beauty, haunting eyes and the songs she sung
promised many things to my heart and I couldn't sleep
after the time I met  fleetingly, that seductive dame.
She was from a world different, her heart was unlike
any one else's I have known, yet I told her I still do search,
as it was a puzzle still, why beauty beacons me !

The black forest winds and waters, the flowers everywhere,
I needed to be alone with myself, when my heart stirred,
heard a little bird chirping that said" You make me calm,
where did you find the poem you just read aloud?"
Suddenly I have woken up from the dream I had fallen into,
eyes lit with beauty, munching a fruit, my favorite
book of poetry in hand,I went to my love, to read it aloud
to her and mull the beauty together, get rejuvenated.

I thought I've seen the light, all of us assiduously seek,
though in a flash,for only an ethereal moment perhaps.
I yearned to catch that gleam in my wavering words,
so that I can keep it in your lovely eyes  where it belongs,
wasn't I right, in thinking so, only your eyes can tell me now.
I eagerly peer in to those dark eyes when you read my verse,
the magic happens ,my being beats in unison with that light, dissolves

Under the banner heading,
a sudden rainbow spreads,
a poetic rain,
in small print,
fills the white sky page;

a naked woman,
reads it word by word,
ecstatic,
dancing like a peacock.

Rain clouds, swirling emotions, crowd the horizon,
mind is taken over by wistfulness, sitting on her throne
of pain alone,the poet cradles her heart, to a trance she slips,
wings to a world, everything is possible----

melting heart's alchemy, builds a metaphoric edifice
she wills to live in it incognito for ever
none will discover this secret unless rarely an intrepid reader
without even knocking on the door comes in
perhaps, if a sweet suspicion arises, when resonating
with it's ambiguous core, and gets  a mute invitation,

the poem now is a lit house, in the pitch darkness of life
two inhabitants with different visions choose to live,
this house of metamorphosis, with increasing rooms
gets more visitors, who come and stay, at times they wish.

times invariably change, visitors swell or become a trickle,
the house well founded in the strength of a metaphor is alive,
around it's fireplace generations would huddle, find solace,
they hear the beats of thunderclaps and songs of pouring rain.

Cloud’s hot teardrops fall,
Polluted lake swells and sighs,
Dark waves lurk beneath!

Wor(l)ds cross pollinate, it seems,
our most modern thoughts
reflect ancient minds, if so
words lose or gain meaning?

Cover of morning mist, treacheous
bring them face to face,
in the depth, green darkness of a forest.
A porcupine and a pangolin,
armed to the teeth,
ready to start a war at short notice,
both are not pleased to the least,
this encounter shouldn't have happened,
that thought crosses the minds of both,
the mist is the culprit,
but how do they know that?

If porcupine is equipped with missiles and lances,
pangolin is  protected with armour plates,
both come to understand, in a second,
they stare, with no emotions in display
sniffing the air for even the faintest of signals,
they stand still, rock like, take stock.

A spell of forest seize them, tell a few things
in soft whisper, that humans fails to listen always.
Nature tell them in quick time,
the secret equation of them, in this terrain-
in smells, sounds and a hundred myriad things.

Each one reads the other's face, watch expressions,
then, in a moment the prompt of the nature is clear
Voice of the forest speaks
"Don't waste the spikes, you need them later,
Fighting with a pangolin is a wild goose chase"
"Why fight porcupine, the ant kingdom awaits"
Porcupine and pangolin, listening to the voice of wisdom,
move away quick, as if hit by a lightening
the cover of the mist lends a clever helping hand.

And the bell rang, the time of closing
of the nine doors of entrances,
he is glad,he did read much, experienced
imbibed, felt elated,embraced effulgence
but the unmitigated sadness is unforgiving
the heart, heavy; a feeling too painful to take home.
"I haven't invented even one word
as my firm claim to immortality,
words I 've only seen, read and heard"

As he quietly lays waiting, these words
rush to mind,"A solitary pilgrim  am I,
a song sung when an audience was all ears, applauded
beginning from a thought, I am left behind as one,
the rest from dust goes to dust.Finis."

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.

a boy to a girl,
Texts sitting across a desk;
love, a potted plant!

At the potter's village we met,
the dawn was only breaking, ominous,
young we were, how exciting a time it was,
shadows never made us frightened,
I made her, the way what she thinks she is,
in turn she made me the way I wanted myself,
there were no original or model, we both were
creations of each other, isn't that unique!
when we left each other, with our hearts  still smiling,
no one could, believe our words
they searched for the mark of tears.on our cheeks,
Standing on the river bank, we embraced the last time,
then, on our ways we went,
we didn't regret a bit, in a boat
called love we further sailed.

Eternity eavesdrops my heartbeats,
does she know, it's my love notes for her tonight?

In the ancient darkness of that  rock chamber,
bats hung upside down like unrecollected memories,
startled by his footsteps flew scattering around, coming alive,
the Precambrian rocks, smelling his presence, but still without  recognition,
wordlessly  asked, "Who are you intruder, troubling our millennial sleep?"
In his  mind he heard  his words echo,"Sister dear,don't you remember?
we came from the same mother- earth- then a molten mass,
she gave us birth, then wind, waves and water separated us in our  Precambrian childhood,
you still are in your slumber, secluded from all, happily oblivious,
your journey still in the beginning, at a different pace"
**The elements took me to a pilgrimage,I took avatars one after other,
I am swimming towards light, at last,I believe,
rippling through the darkness all-round

Her eyes kindled the fire,
touch raised the temperature,
kiss whetted the appetite,
got us equipped for Cupid's test.

Pretty Periwinkle, lovable, at my happy doorstep,
full of purple flowers, winks at me every time I pass her;
she has something to tell me in private, it's evident,
she whispered, I tried within limits, but couldn't afford to concede.

Rain poured its *** off,
And see now: pools big and small;
More than can handle!