So she said.
Upright and mobile, weary of this lonely arrogant stance.
For whom, before what shall I crumble, inhaling relief of the kneeling ?
Or fold all the way down, head beneath heart, tender child's pose.
Might that be beginning or ending ?
Might there be surrender salvation here pending ?

In a world, somewhere beyond the senses of human
a woman fell in love with a man,
he could be me too.In no way she could see
all(every one )of me, or I her; yet we know each other
in our magnificent ignorance of universe, that
makes things work for us in this world we live.

A sea of bubbles, each universe is copy of some other
as a lost pair in parallel universes, if researched enough
I would have found there are millions of she and I, exist
in numerous universes, doing things in all
permutations and combinations, I am sure.

If I take me as a Romeo, I can't happily court tragedy,
remember in some of these worlds where a different
law of physics works(a different Newton existed, apple didn't fall)
our love could become a super success, Shakespeare there
would have been forced to write a different classic.
In some other world a different tragedy might have occurred
I am not one , but multitudes,  in planets of different universes,
I am the past, the present and the future awaited, I am the same cat
Schrodinger has donated his name and made famous
that made life and death suspects

I am the 'atman'- the essence absolute, in human beings
that yearns deeply  to merge in  the absolute consciousness 'brahmam'
about what the Indian sages of yore spoke in 'Upanishads'
millenniums before quantum mechanics saw the light of the day.
Brahmam, the absolute, non-duel in unmanifested part of the universe, beyond knowing
by a cryptic play becomes matter and manifests before us, bit by bit
Higgs boson,  please catch  the cosmic slight of hand red handed.

Winter, tricky entrapper,
cozy cuddler, night fiddler
nuzzler, tantalizer, whistler
sharp nailed cruel lover
seasonal unfailing seductress,
sprawling on the bed cloth of December,
rolling over a few months either side,
I would never take her for granted.

I see her peep through
the window curtains,
spying at the warm days eyeing me
and waiting for her to climb down the steps;
she is jealous, as she wants to linger
playfully riding on my back.

she seeped in to my blood stream,
like the narcotic effect of grass,
before I  know it happens
little by little to make me
forget my other loves completely
even without my permission.
Her wiliness is stealthily at work,
to monopolize me fully
separating me from others
yes, winter is cleverness clad in white.
Now, I am at her mercy, completely
my fingers, chest and lips strangely
enjoy the cold caresses, she gives each!

I realize, she has taken over-
my body and paints my mind's canvas,
with bubbling hallucinatory white,
she wants others tightly on her leash,
my other loves complain:
"you act just what is her will
you always wear her fragrance,
on you what an influence she wields!"
can I help when winter my darling,
brooks no excuses!

She exposes me before others
I look like a pusillanimous one,
cowering and cringing before her
none, even my true love, has
such absolute control over me
like she exerts, it's a secret
but true that I wriggle to get out,
of this white net she tenderly knitted-
for my comfort, which is,
pleasurable I think, to an extent,
yet difficult to accept at the same time.

Let us part before long, not to make
our relationship much complicated,
I'll wait, till the next season arrives
you are in my list of periodic partners,
I'll be ready with warmth in my heart,
for your eventful visit, that leaves
an impression far too long to ever forget.

If wishes were fishes, I'd have a whole net
Of fanciful things that I'd likely not get
If wishes were stars, when I'd look in the sky
I'd see thousands of you, all shooting by
If wishes were teardrops, then each night in bed
I'd have streams of you gathered by my head
If wishes were rainbows, then after each rain
The image of you the sky would retain
If wishes were fishes, then by god I'll try hard
To have you as mine, to love, hold, and guard

Sometimes the poem
doesn't want to come;
it hides from the poet
like a playful cat
who has run
under the house
& lurks among slugs,
roots, spiders' eyes,
ledge so long out of the sun
that it is dank
with the breath of the Troll King.

Sometimes the poem
darts away
like a coy lover
who is afraid of being possessed,
of feeling too much,
of losing his essential
loneliness-which he calls
freedom.

Sometimes the poem
can't requite
the poet's passion.

The poem is a dance
between poet & poem,
but sometimes the poem
just won't dance
and lurks on the sidelines
tapping its feet-
iambs, trochees-
out of step with the music
of your mariachi band.

If the poem won't come,
I say: sneak up on it.
Pretend you don't care.
Sit in your chair
reading Shakespeare, Neruda,
immortal Emily
and let yourself flow
into their music.

Go to the kitchen
and start peeling onions
for homemade sugo.

Before you know it,
the poem will be crying
as your ripe tomatoes
bubble away
with inspiration.

When the whole house is filled
with the tender tomato aroma,
start kneading the pasta.

As you rock
over the damp sensuous dough,
making it bend to your will,
as you make love to this manna
of flour and water,
the poem will get hungry
and come
just like a cat
coming home
when you least
expect her.

The blood collects, the earth the cup
And quickly now it's filling up
The ones who drink will also pour
Until there's nothing anymore
I cannot say the time is come
But what I know - thy will be done

Are you the hand that paints it red
Or someone who has washed instead

For no one else can claim your role
It's yours alone, so keep it whole
I see myself in others' eyes
But are my own becoming blind
My lids restore the outer part
Enough deceit to plague my heart
I should at first, have looked within
Before I traded sight for skin
And if there's still a chance for me
I'll take it now, I'll drink the sea

Merely a color delusion. Usually with shady conclusion.
Each lighter war starts and ends with tons of confusion.
The accusations start flying. One casts the blame, the others left denying.
However I pass most of this guilt onto BIC, who does most of the supplying.

It's merely harmless bicker. Each is only defending their  own flicker.
Lay them all on the table so we can end this all much quicker.

A flammable rainbow  is layed out. This will help eliminate doubt.
And isn't that really what most lighter wars are about.
Here the truth is exposed. Leaving all unopposed.
Once we sort through the evidence the case can be closed.
What makes this game so fun. Maybe you came with one.
But when you empty out your pockets you now have none.

Or maybe today was your lucky day. Things seemed to be going your way.
No need to worry, that is just how you play.

They all look the same. They all carry flame.
Your only intention was to borrow it yet somehow yours it became.

But your not a lighter thief. You'd prefer the label fire cheif.
Most are unaware they stole it and hand it back in disbelief.