I enjoy, the subtle shades, connotation of each word,
probe, how dexterously they are put together in an order
like jewels in an ornament for generations to wear.
The way the construct speaks to the brooding solitude
that moves in and out of my soul,as the reading proceeds.

I smell a fragrance, like the scent of fresh ripe fruit,
eager to taste it, sink my teeth deep, draw juice,
now find a memory awaiting to resonate with the
cadence of my heart.
                                                 I am such an animal
that can smell poetry's worth from a distance,
a goldsmith who could  predict it's weight in gold
my avarice for a poetic diet, never dies, only swells.

Every poem of my kind, to me does something
my lover does, decidedly every imagery, carry forward
a memory, like wind a cloud, reaches a space beyond
touches eternity with it's magic wand,  a flash results
Even if the poet leaves me mid way, I'd still see the light.

I've an enticing excuse to imagine what I want to see
a poem doesn't produce anything,but what it does to mind,
is pure magic,I am in that flow,far from the illusory reality.

Our frequent  encounters
day after day after day
I and you would pretend
happen by mere chance.

But love lives in the sixth sense, we realize
it keeps our antennae up, even when apart
we act as if we are oblivious of that one fact.
it's this guile, that makes our love so special

A mysterious connect with
the movements of each other
like never missing the poetry of
lascivious flourish of your body
intended for me as an aphrodisiac,
yet again letting  my tender heart
to get hit by your eager beetle eyes
that'd follow me everywhere I turn
decided not to miss anyone of my desires.
I too am agile, an avid capturer
of motions of your body, mind and
effusive spirit that attach with mine
in every which way it could; I keep it alive.

From one corner of my eye,
iridescent sparks of love
involuntarily fly,
ignite the dormant suns,
yearning for a dawn,
within your lovely eyes;
overwhelmed by joy, they
light up my inner skies.

Either by the curl of your lips,
that suggests a perfect fit
with mine, keep  waiting,
or with the sensual swing
of your curved alabaster hips,
that display gay abandon,
you set flames to fireworks,
that in my veins create tides
and set fire to my *****,
that won't easily be quelled for a
while: till that time we both decide.

By instinct, I deeply sense
the ocean moves of love,
in her heart and respond,
as if, by nature's prompt.
In each wave we combine,
as the force and water mass .

A cactus he loved, all he saw was beauty in her,
the fascinating patterns,were engagingly intriguing,
she sought his thorns, to naturally reciprocate,
to love him, the way she always had known that art.

            Never could she find, even one, however she tried,
           thorns weren't his attraction, was she disappointed?
           she had to learn  love transactions, eliminating thorns,
           then, everything in place had fallen one by one.

He felt her
inner thunder,
waves of scarlet
reverberating
in his *****;
deep in the marrow
a pleasant tingling.
"Your sun spoke to me,
his insistence, very pleasant
reached me as waves"
later she coyly
whispered in his ears.

Let go all pretensions,
honestly compare notes
of hearts, the magic happens.
              They created their
big bang on a sprawling bed,
all are echoes, he, she and the rest.
Even the universe that pulsates
within and spreads outwards
as waves.