My small hut of dreams
surviving all alone atop of hill
covered all around with huge deodar trees
of muddy wall and slanting roof sill

Ginger and cardamom tea
near the orange fire place
reading journals
I will live , capturing the first snow in days

freshly baked potato in oven clay
sprinkled rock salt with melted cheese
fragrant leaves of corainder
lingers on and stays

sweet and sour taste of wine
from the close by farm of grapes
friends and family gather everynight
over dinner and United prays

bells echoing mystery in the air
far from the temples on a difficult mountain
where path to heavens looks reachable
trekking the rocks in sun and in rain


Manisha

When we'd stood and wondered
where our lives were going,
not knowing our hearts had blundered
still we waited for the midnight crowing.

We thought we could begin our journey
at the morning's first light,
and when the fires were lowly burning
we had seen that beautiful sight

At light's last waning glow
we realised our folly
and felt love's striking blow.

We fell and neither was sorry
as we were consumed by the falling snow

Do You…

miss the way;
I look into you eyes
the way my fingers explore your skin
the ear that listened
how in me you had no fear
the tender moments
the kiss, soft and gentle
teasing your lips
holding hands in public
doors that open
a gentlemen
dances in the rain
peanut butter nutella
meals prepared by me
how i brushed your hair
going down above your knees
laughter that broke silence
cuddling the recharge we need
pictures of our adventures
photos ****** shared
walking around the home
nothing but underwear
traveling together, many places
making love by moonlight
wishing on that star one night
looking into the mirror
as the story unfolds
dreams and promises and wishes
forever these we hold

… and then you awake…
could this be…
the one man of whom you dream?

… then I awake…
holding my pillow…
I realized…

I was the one who was dreaming

The snake
N
E
V
E
R
  Bites
O
F
F
M
   O
     R
       E
T
H
En it
C
A n
Ch
Ew.

This July, the thought and creativity that I would have given to a Fourth of July poem were reserved to help save a kitty's life. A frequent front-porch visitor, Princess knew nothing of "amber waves of grain," "purple mountain's majesty," and "rocket's red glare." Rockets shot high above her five-word world, that had little to do with patriot's dreams and everything to do with the promise of tomorrow. Right now, I am the only man in the world who cares about this cat's existence. The truth is I am just as stricken, and we lie side by side equally dying.

Like stars spilling from whiskey dewdrop lips 
Words streak across a midnight sky of longing

What proverbs may come from these whiskey lips For every lightless night spent apart For every unspent voucher to destinations we will never travel to
Find something beautiful
And don't let go
All things of beauty
Must pass away
Maybe one beautiful thing can stay

Hold tight the breathless moments spent dreaming in aurora skies
For every darkness carries the remembrance of the sun
How it left warm kisses upon fluttering eyelids 
In this way we too will find heaven

That undiscovered heaven whose patterns we have run through
and dimly remembered sun
the hopeless light that sits quietly
In the souls of the storm-born
That far
that distant
That's where the hurt is
That is the proof of love