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 Aug 2016 Laurent
ryn
I don't know how to love
without wanting more.

I don't know how to swim
when there is no shore.

I don't know if there's an after
when the present is sculpted from before.

I won't know love
if love is nothing but lore.

When I saw you last
I never knew it was last
I never believe
Even now, it was last
YOU left something in me
I left something in YOU
Several personal moments
One can't keep count
The whole list is so infinite
Yet, it is something
Very intimate we left behind
For survival of our existence
The very being for which we're born
It is, was & will ever be
LOVE, LOVE, LOVE...
Between our SOULS



The sparkle in your eyes
Are my dual lights
More brilliant than
The sun & the moon
And that black sphere
Is my dark night
With one sparkling star within
Smoldering the dark skies &
Setting a blaze inside my heart
Diamonds are mined from your eyes
Flowers bloom seeing its halo
And a LOVER soul dances in joy

A searing glance
Hot as a sun, cold as a moon
Those deep eyes,
Pools of oceanic blues
And my waves of tears holds back
On those floating sweet fold

You, the one with precious eyes
Your eyes fill LOVE turbulence in me
For those enraged
With the passion for your eyes,
What fortunes one needs?

YOU, my precious
I'm gazing at those iris
Even stars stop winking on a clear night
With one blink of your eyes,
Countless wild flower
Adores a LOVER's heart

I'm smitten by you, my gypsy girl
The rituals demands me to wait
But who needs the traditions now
That alluring smile
Adorning those glittering eyes
I'm in LOVE with thee
How can I ever wait further
Let me kiss those sparkling eyes


 Aug 2016 Laurent
K Balachandran
An age old chair, in seasoned teak wood
carved, a perfect work of art, nothing less than
a masterpiece, and a  reminder of so much past,
sat regally before our wondering eyes, tempting
on the central court yard of my  ancestral home,
where generations lived.
                               Wanting to sit like my grandpas of yore
I found a carpenter, perhaps the last one for this work
who understands the air that surrounds the chair.
We discussed the concept,
design and the kind of wood
it has to be  made,to create a replica
to bring back the grandeur of times past.
But then, found  not an easy task  it is
"Do you deserve it ?" the bearded
carpenter, was so blunt in his skeptic stance!
He  puzzled me  with his questions
Yet we were keen to give it a try.

The adamant carpenter relented
after many sessions of questions
and answers, perhaps my passion
did the trick, his eyes made me believe.
He promised to make me a chair
(The kind none would dream in this age)
as if it's a mission divinely assigned,
"You need to change a lot to deserve it"
he insisted, suggests a series of
purification rights  "for your confused soul"

"To fit  in to a chair like this , fulfill
all it's  demands"in my ear he whispered
as if I am the chosen one for an ancient  throne.

An  antique chair shaped by the imagination
of my distant ancestors, now changes me
and without slightest  resistance I submit;
would I ever know what is happening?
 Aug 2016 Laurent
ryn
Paradise Lost
 Aug 2016 Laurent
ryn
.

"Looking down from ethereal skies
Silent crystalline tears I cry
For all must say their last goodbye -
to Paradise..."

- Paradise Lost by Symphony X

Head buried                          
in pillows in the sky,      
voraciously consuming
the fluffy whites.            
Windy fingers                    
sieve the air.                      
                 Watchful eyes                                    
tracing tails of kites.    

He only hears      
  the faint hymns
                            from the outstretched wings
         of feathered birds.
            Leans back weightily
          on his throne of clouds.
        Notions form haphazard
in so many words.    

Casting his gaze,
               willing it earth-bound.
            Careless trees sway
                       in synchronised tandem.
              Diverse songs merge
              seamless in harmony.
        Singing in unison,
                             revelling the gift of freedom.

             Silent tears fall
                         and trickle as rain...
                  As he reminisces
                                       the images of his forsaken past.
       Scored paintings
of a paradise lost.  
All must say                          
their final goodbyes...                  
He will bid his,                              
last.
                                               

.
Current earworm. I feel this song.
 Aug 2016 Laurent
Valsa George
Tomorrow I shall see the birth of the awaited dawn
Today it seems I am locked in a midnight zone
Tomorrow I will not walk into the dread of the night
But shall be led by the blazing light

Tomorrow I will carry my yoke manfully
And never recite the litany of my woes mournfully
Tomorrow I shall slow down and stop by the mountain side
And watch the silvery stream joyfully down way glide

Tomorrow I shall seize every chance that comes my way
And never wait for them to fall on another day
Tomorrow I shall be out of my prison cell with discord round
And shall enter a palace with joys abound

Tomorrow I shall willingly partake of another’s grief
And never seek solely my own relief
Tomorrow I shall wait for the calm that follows the storm
And not grumble in haste that life is a withering dream

Tomorrow I shall look beyond the clouds of gathered gloom
And see for myself the beauty of stars that in hundreds bloom
Tomorrow amid hostilities I shall keep alive the sparks of friendship
And never mourn the absence of anyone for companionship

Did I hear someone teasingly say to my utter surprise
“Your resolutions sound so good! But what if tomorrow doesn’t arise?”
 Aug 2016 Laurent
Valsa George
When sleep deserted me
I crawled out of my bed unseen
To delve into the crevices of the dark
With the curiosity of an explorer
And the near comatose of a somnambulist
I walked up and down the steep slopes of the night
Like a night watchman
Without a lantern in his hand

When my legs grew weary
I sat on a rock
Covered with moss and lichen
Staring at the dark night sky
With no constellation of fireflies
Flashing their torches anywhere

Sitting there, I listened to the song of night birds,
The rustle of leaves,
The howl of wolves,
And the night wind’s rave

Looking into the dark pockets of the night,
I thought of human mind, a deep gorge
With many an uninhabitable corner
Where serpent desires lie coiled
Scorpions crawl with toxic pincers
Predators roam to prey upon helpless victims

The mystery of the night absorbed me
Her muffled sounds, her dark beauty
Her elusive charm, like thick night fog,
Percolated deep into my consciousness
And I floundered in a fathomless sea,
Swirling in her eddies and currents.
      It whisked me away to lands far…far!
      But on being washed ashore,
      I was in a creative delirium


I am now in No Man’s Land
      Where everything is in a coma of stillness
      Where no light glimmers
No door ajar
And no one in sight!
Here the poet in me breaks open
The somnambulist's comatose
And down way flow my thoughts in indelible ink
Which only I can read

Like a night bird
Roosting among the branches of a tree  
I sing of my heart aches,
Of my yearnings and longings

In the barely audible whispers of the night,
My song reverberates in the eyeless abyss down,
And the dark desolate valleys below

People say, ghosts walk the earth at night.
Oh!  I am not scared!
I am not eager for the dawn to break,
Nor want to put my pen down!
Confusion
Oh, for the love of the younger me
Torn between feelings for my teenager lovers
Protecting my heart from the lying *******
I ran from their clutches and I spread my wings

Somehow, one of them gets to follow me
On the devil playground call modern directory
Gazing into my life day after, day after day
making it seem like getting older make us restless and hopeless. .

Oh, for the love of the younger me
Torn between my feelings for my teenager lovers
Still running and protecting my heart from their lies
Those lying ******* from my youth

Meow power does exist.
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