Who is she? I do not know.
Inhuman. She tangles my mind like no other.
One look, she glances over your soul  
With her pale hues and feline eyes,
I  have been baffled with her tight grasp.

Celestial. Confusing. Crafty. Cold.
That she is,
She has casted a spell on me,
That can only be broken by her.
Who is she?

Puzzled. I have been,
A witch? Could it be?
Her voice is melodiously venomous,
I have been mesmerized,
She has clung to my soul.

A distinguished walk,
The childlike enthusiasm,
An enigmatic character,
Her signals are vague,
She is full of anonymity.

Marked with beauty, a mask hides her personality
The possessor of the key to my heart,
She is a mystery.

The line didn't move, though there were not
many people in it. In a half-hearted light
the lone agent dealt patiently, noiselessly, endlessly
with a large dazed family ranging
from twin toddlers in strollers to an old lady
in a bent wheelchair. Their baggage
was all in cardboard boxes. The plane was delayed,
the rumor went through the line. We shrugged,
in our hopeless overcoats. Aviation
had never seemed a very natural idea.

Bored children floated with faces drained of blood.
The girls in the tax-free shops stood frozen
amid promises of a beautiful life abroad.
Louis Armstrong sang in some upper corner,
a trickle of ignored joy.
Outside, in an unintelligible darkness
that stretched to include the rubies of strip malls,
winged behemoths prowled looking for the gates
where they could bury their koala-bear noses
and **** our dimming dynamos dry.

Boys in floppy sweatshirts and backward hats
slapped their feet ostentatiously
while security attendants giggled
and the voice of a misplaced angel melodiously
parroted FAA regulations. Women in saris
and kimonos dragged, as their penance, behind them
toddlers clutching Occidental teddy bears,
and chair legs screeched in the food court
while ill-paid wraiths mopped circles of night
into the motionless floor.

I have known this much talked about search for true love for over 10 years and I am aged 22 years now. There was this unforgiving loneliness till I was 17 years of age given that I am the only child of my parents who lives with them in a lonely campus of a research institute away from the small city.

A tumultuous relationship filled with resentment to the brim about my parents keeping me their only 'issue' was brought to the hilt and I was weary of being their arguably most beloved 'machine' who was supposed to live sticking to the 'guidelines' laid by them as the ideal only son.

We aren't from a landlord's family and have limited resources, so I was supposed to suffice in my parents' love and affection, studying at a fairly consistent dedication to bring forth the results worthwhile landing me a good job.

But who has been able to control a Romeo-in-the-making?

Answer: Nobody!

But my Juliet wasn't yet on the horizon till age 17, when I mistakenly took my first girlfriend who was my classmate till class 7, to be my last love. Period. Then for the first time I was introduced to the idea of 'love' by this sweet girl whom I dub "G3" over 11 months elder to me. I had proposed her, but it was not a pre-emptive proposal.

Our period of courtship had started over Orkut which was the most popular social website at that time. It was just friendship initially until I had unsuccessfully proposed two bimbets other than my first girlfriend. One of those two unsuccessful attempts was with her best-friend-once-upon-a-time.

I had told her about them both, she had even tried apparently helping me propose her best friend when I had told her that I had even written a song for my childhood crush over the years I had been away from my old school.

Her first reaction was, "I would die for having such a boyfriend! Wish it was I for whom the song was composed."

Then when I proposed my childhood crush, G1, I couldn't even mention about the song and she rejected my proposal. Period. I was distraught, I was broken & I was amazed at how easily she could've undermined my liking for her from the past 7 years.

To take my attention off the disappointment posed by my first rejection. I proposed a different girl, G2, non-seriously, knowing that another rejection was lurking behind the curtains of time.

Rejection 2 successfully diverted my mind away from the mess created. Anyways, I did have a girlfriend for myself. After all, people love guys who sing melodiously and can play guitar apart from having decent appearance, and believe me- I used to look this chocolatey young guy until I was 19 years of age.

The girl who later went on to have the place vacated by my first crush was her same best-friend-once-upon-a-time 'G3'. She went on varied lengths in narrating her own break-up story with the guy she was with. I got a second-hand  piece as my first girlfriend. It was no issues, at least till she was bickering about how he had broken her 'heart-of-a-self-proclaimed-princess' and we started having arguments and serious tiffs over what had been happening in her life.

We broke-up. I had enough of the hardships brought by myself upon her. She had taken to crying harshly over phone. I resented myself. I failed to identify that it was not true love indeed but only a mirage of the idea.

I next concentrated in studies and this time I prevailed over the hurdles offered by examinations and a second girlfriend, 'G4', who refused to openly accept she was going about with me was attracted to me. She'd go see the Taj Mahal at Agra and the Hawa Mahal at Jaipur with me apart from spending the night in the same hotel room but would still reckon me with my pending reappear supplementary exams and wouldn't openly accept a failure as her man. I was frustrated by her autocratic behaviour and opted for a different girl, 'G5'.

G5 was the prettiest of my first 3 GF's as far as looks were considered. We romanced around Delhi's historical places and malls; holding hands around cinemas and Old Fort walls in New Delhi. But still I was as ****** as I was when I was born.

May 7, 2010 was a scorching hot day with the sun ablaze overhead and me going on the busiest highway of India. I was going back to my home and met with a serious road accident en route that kicked me out of my senses into a frozen comatose state.

I somehow survived the life-threatening coma and was moving around in 52 long weeks, limping heavily all thanks to my parents and the kind physiotherapist. Thanks to a poor memory, I initially performed extremely below average at college.

Then I was all prepared to attack at all future examinations and nothing could stop me. I breezed past another girl 'G6', this was my last failure. She was confused between me and a different guy. Neither me nor any other guy with a high self-prestige would entertain the idea of being weighed as an option. I again moved on.

Then comes the continuing story of my true love. True love is the one that lasts forever successfully. She is incidentally my 7th chance upon the love pathway and last. I am sure this is her- my soul-mate.

She is my gateway to the 7th heaven, I find her presence in every aspect of my life. She is 6 years and 9 months younger to me and her descent in my life has been the best thing in my life. I celebrate and rejoice each day in her presence. Our tastes are so similar that we feel merely our X- & Y-chromosomes are different.

We patiently wait for time to last till the day till we perish after blessing our grandchildren. We live 250 kilometres away from each other and have only known each other through voices and photos. We are yet to meet. Till then I wait for the day my master degree gets over and she gets into a medical college.

Now I will end this post by saying that there's no end of love and no beginning of it - you just have to wait, identify and hold on to your truest love.

I remember
Vividly those serene eyes,
Shining bright,
Emotion in them
Sparks my blood to rise

Thy teary eyes divine,
Speak with love and tenderness,
Eyes, a million stars in them
The picture of innocence.

Eyes seeking me -
Glowing,
Like that first dew,
On the new viridescent blade of grass.

Your eyes my matinal star
Your eyes my middays sunshines,
Your eyes my vespers twilight,
Your eyes an oceanic depth,
Your eyes my autumnal hues,
Your eyes wild jasmines
Fragrant at nights,
Like that sunflower
Gazing the afternoon sun.

Let the peacocks vauntingly dance,
Let the nightingales melodiously sing,
Let the flora and fauna flourish,
Like spring in prosperity,
In felicitation,
Let me always
See
Through Your Eyes

find a lover who writes you sonnets
who uses the darkest flecks of your eyes as ink
and the shades of your skin as paper
writing along the edges of your wrists and arms
with tongue and teeth
with purpose, truth, and love

find a lover whose heart sings to yours
a pianissimo summer sonata, dolce
using their words sotto voce against your ear
melodiously humming against your body
with their lips pressed to your neck
with passion, fire and tenderness

find a lover who creates art
using line weight in colloquy and canvas alike
to paint you with diamonds, as they see you
watch them carve your essence
with rainbows and pearls
with intensity, feeling, and beauty

find a lover who gives to you
who presents all the joys of life
unselfishly and without expectation
and when they give freely and openly
ensure that you, too, become a lover
who writes, sings, creates, and returns

Fragmented pieces of scarlet memories,
trees of stout arms reaching.... affection the fruit it carries,
Mauvey plumes sprout this golden harvest of my imagination.
I'm drawn to taste commitment's nectar of delicious dedication.

Hear now the sitars melody, notes in Arial Black on Milky White,
I climbed the apple tree in this garden of light,
The colorful wind melodiously blowing a heretic hero's demise,
Though shaken my grasp prevailed the prize.

Alas through and through my vantage point reveals a view,
The floating dislocated memories on a river of silky love,
That rise and brush the teardrops from my cheeks,
Then spirit away like frightened doves.

IN THE POOL OF THE LOST MAIDEN SONG

                1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


                2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


                3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


                4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”

My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit
Beside a helm conducting it,
Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
It seems to float ever, for ever,
Upon that many-winding river,
Between mountains, woods, abysses,
A paradise of wildernesses!
Till, like one in slumber bound,
Borne to the ocean, I float down, around,
Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound:

Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions
In music’s most serene dominions;
Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven.
And we sail on, away, afar,
Without a course, without a star,
But, by the instinct of sweet music driven;
Till through Elysian garden islets
By thee, most beautiful of pilots,
Where never mortal pinnace glided,
The boat of my desire is guided:
Realms where the air we breathe is love,
Which in the winds and on the waves doth move,
Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above.

We have past Age’s icy caves,
And Manhood’s dark and tossing waves,
And Youth’s smooth ocean, smiling to betray:
Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee
Of shadow-peopled Infancy,
Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day;
A paradise of vaulted bowers,
Lit by downward-gazing flowers,
And watery paths that wind between
Wildernesses calm and green,
Peopled by shapes too bright to see,
And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee;
Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!

IN THE POOL OF THE LOST MAIDEN SONG

                1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


                2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


                3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


                4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”

The black hole’s emanations attempted to fill the gap in galactic  infiniteness as all spiraled down to its new beginnings while residual harmonic vibrations honed the forms of its becoming .

The insect’s hum buzzed harmoniously almost melodiously in  syncopated integrated vibrations as it flew across the room , out the door and into the night sky .

The ship’s deck rolled and pitched as hurricane weather smashed and  shattered its empty hull against the wooden dock .

The blazing core of the comet streaked across the sky as it decomposed  in the atmosphere and extinguished its self in the ocean .

The blazing light of innumerable suns chaotic radioactive glair was almost audible like sounds of distant campfires as the last bits of wood crackled into embers beneath the starry sky .

( a vision dream )

      1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


      2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


      3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


      4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”

It is a beautiful bird sanctuary
Where a sparrow chirps, a cuckoo sings
And  the parrot talks and the mina speaks
And the peacock dances

There is a great comradeship among th e birds
But a proud crow inflitrates into the place
And prattles and boos the cuckoo
And mocks at the lark

The nightingale sings so melodiously
That all the birds clap and laugh
Except the crow who thinks his bark
Is greater than the song of a lark

He feels as though he were the king of
The park and thinks his bark is sweeter than
A parrot’s talk and greater than a peacock’s
Walk. How long can he bark?

The crow is like a poison in a bowl of manna
How long will the birds bear their woes?
A day comes when they will kick the crow out
He will surely be out of sight

slightest of her sight
was such it's gravity's might
wholly my heart shook
such was that compelling look

left me utterly sired
tangled like a tainted wire
heart crumbling
feet stumbling

blind by her aura's light
such was it's bright
my heart melodiously sings
trapped by her angelic wings

like she came from pretty moon
for me was she a boon
her rolling eyes something they meant
for I was hypnotized by her saccharin scent

wore exquisite crimson dress
that showered roses with zest

I knew one thing for sure
this love was veritably pure
no dream no fantasy this was
to aquire you my only devoted cause..

IN THE POOL OF THE LOST MAIDEN SONG

                1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


                2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


                3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


                4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”

Through the laden flights of ***-stewed gulls -
Deepening in red rosaries to poltroon,
Contaminated by an urgent wish,
The sun-soaked merry bandits blew.

Each to each, and, mingling with that sweaty palm,
Dolorous eyes sad-greeted the fleeing dawn.
Pancreas then, the earth-girdled Titan swam,
Anon the rising tide to stem.

Dentist the night, repair to dance-floored beams,
And rising melodiously ever anew to pine,
Sweet ***** dreaming of her saw-toothed chemise
Saw the fine end to the upstart king.

Curtains swayed against my pearly doom
Not brightly was your plainting song
Palpitating in earthly measures anew
Or seeking once more the mighty to appease.

O David, in thy glance the silver moth did live
Long dawns. An enemy of the swordfish,
He menaced us so long. And now?
Sporadic is the demise of depth!

A silver sea, or rather a sea with a fine multitude of
silver points
Caressing my eyes like toothless counterpoint to the
stately blue.
It gave a floor to a weening being of prancing gait and
measured thighs.

She smiled.

And the sea broke and roared, as ever,
and I heard it once more.
I saw too the sky, which had sufficient blue.
  Cooled by the sea,
warmed by the setting rays and mild air, the body
luxuriated in perfect
temperature.  She did not smile, but perhaps she did..
My body, I mean.

We came away, from there, as from all places to meet
another need.
of darkness and quiet.  Foamed the elements of slaking
portions of
mysterious
substance.  Surrendered to the moving body without
real life.
  Borne along on a
stream of liquid desire residing in another's
breast.
  Relinquishing her to a
perfect nothingness like lead or caviare.
        Oh, and who awaited me?  She was imprisoned
but beautiful
and I thought
quite happy.  I don't think she even wanted to come
to me,
or so it seemed.  But she was happier too outside,
in the waning sun.
  Mainly she had been safe and free.
     And there's an end of this day, which roamed
whither it would,
for I did not attempt to chain it.  Now I flee it.

A cuckoo melodiously sang
For many years long
In anticipation of her dear king
The most beautiful seasonal spring

The song was so sweet and great
That it was heard all over the world
The world sympathized with the cuckoo
To console her they stood in a queue

The bird waited for the king
She expected a wedding ring
But he went to another land
Which he thought more grand

The cuckoo was shocked
Her voice was choked
How long will she stop the song?
It was not at all her wrong

She sang a different song
The people would throng
They blessed she would live long!
Her divine song she would prolong

I am a dust laden untuned guitar in a corner.
Come toward me and wipe away all my loneliness and tune the untuned strings in my life with your warm hands.
Chat with me the way you sing melodiously along with your guitar's melodious tunes.

Beat my fears the way you beat your drums.
Read , understand , remember and love me like your books.
Listen to the noises , voices , whispers and sounds in my silences.
Give me an eternal space in your poetries.
Spent such moments with me that gets carved beautifully on the walls of my memories.
Get lost in my love the way you are into the melodies of your violen and piano while playing them.
Love me above the boundaries of ether.
Embrace me tightly in the arms of your soul and coalesce me within your soul.
And take me away in the ethereal cosmos with you.

The living shall worship 🛐 thy Lord as the Angels adore Him on the throne. Off their faces with their golden crowns 👑+ bowing down. Their songs is hallelujah, 🙌 glory, giving holiness, admiring the everlasting living being. Who made heaven is holy place of abode. Make audible roaring, let the pillars of heaven tremble, and the waters surrounding the universe from the peak of heaven shallow down the depth of sea bowing🙇 before His presence Every powers and knees worship, 🛐 before his presence, glory, salvation, healing, blessing, devine favor, love, peace, life hove in His presence, sing melodiously shout excellently even with poetry, sing palm unto thy Lord who is worthy, on whose hands lies everythang. Holy, holy spirit, holy is thy Lord Almighty God. Blessing be the name of thy Lord God. Amen! 🙏

POOL OF THE LOST MAIDEN SONG

                1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


                2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


                3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


                4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”

since the enchanted dream
In the night i saw
my insides are twitching
craving to draw

the exquisite meadow
luxuriant with wonders
cumulus clouds
narrowing in row

whence the water
Hastily sprang
hushing rapids
melodiously sang

prismatic reflection deceitfully shifts
the way the birds chanted in bliss

crimson sky
vibrant pattern it formed
beguiling wind
something it want

left me wonderstruck
rolling in stream
I glided the fall
ended the dream

A
broken record
melodiously repeating
the same phrase
to a constant rhythm:

“I love you”
“I love you,”

And
a timid ear eager
in pace to halt the
sounds of the music’s
delicate reassurance

IN THE POOL OF THE LOST MAIDEN SONG

                1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


                2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


                3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


                4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”

Thank fearless love for a passionate life.
Throttles charge the gallows as if oddly shaped feet pour over mountains
There are things, the things no one has thought of before
Thin, thick, the golden gate plays games, give way to distrusting forgiveness
Thrusting and diving, trusting the knifing thief
Thoughts and dreams, whispers and spit
Through mediums and *******
Thinking, inking, chumming, coming
Thumbs are an evolutionary error
The taste of him, tactical and scared, afraid of the ensnared
Thrilling and drilling the president, he’s drowning in his will to represent
Threads rip at the sight of wrong and rotten thicks of ruin
Thistles lump near the top, swinging while ticks sway and swoon
Throw candles, lit fireflies, halt the stop watch knowing desire as we die
Throats bleach with boiling bills, and melodiously drown in melancholy ornaments
Theories prove insane is a thorough man with an open book of blank pages
Thwarting covers, nobody remembers, none have known his face
Thrifty as he is, they thrive on his peace and resistance
Thirty thousand cherries dropping at once, an atomic bomb
Threatening the fictitious fruit and depriving them of their dairy-free dreamscapes  
Thirsty Thursday looks at ******* Friday with a fringe of fear and inevitable fate
This feeling strives for a piece of an idea
Those thinkers, sultry like lively lace purple violet lilacs
Throttle sticks like lit dynamite to the corpses of conscious cornucopia
Thirsting crooked thatches croon about WD40, singing of slippery songs
Thespian facades, escapades and escapes, long catharsis reaction
Thumping metallic beats, drum the dents in my souls
Thermal conspiracy, heating the eggs equally hard boiled
Thin trees fragile nuances manifesting smoldering adolescent passion
Themed leaves seize Victoria’s secrets, branches boast their bulimia
Thorns are for foreign foliage fornication, induced by important imbeciles
Thumps will free theatre floors’ footsteps, and yawn gouging groans between the cracks
Thugs wail woes, worries and warts, sailors chug the tailored mug
Thongs, *** cracks and crackerjacks, sweet till the sweaty end
Thaw the swallows nest, waking feathers from their preening and unrest

My fingernails crave your skin
Hard red assassins
My fingernails sweep your skin
Texturizing our love

In every corner of your body
Your breath is twitching
Melodiously
You fill with air

Speak to me in tongues
On a plate like a breaded chicken breast
Marinating in a fine Italian wine and Balsamic Vinaigrette
Sauce craving an open flame
Homemade.

I'm falling asleep
I'm falling asleep
To the digging of a Disco party on a late
Friday night in yellow polyester baby blue You forgot
To pick me up, again but it's okay 'cause I'm
Stayin' Alive.
In a plexiglass life.
See right through it, it's translucent
Then never look at me again.

1)The living shall worship 🛐 thy Lord as the Angels adore Him on the throne.

2)Off their faces with their golden crowns 👑+ bowing down.

3)Their songs is hallelujah, 🙌 glory, giving holiness, admiring the everlasting living being.

4)Who made heaven is holy place of abode.

5)Make audible roaring, let the pillars of heaven tremble, the foundation of the Earth quake.

6)And the waters surrounding the universe from the peak of heaven.

7) Shallow down the depth of sea bowing🙇 before His presence.

8) Every powers and knees worship, 🛐 before his presence.

9) Glory, salvation, healing, blessing, divine favor, love, peace, life hove in His presence.

10) Sing melodiously, gloriously shout excellently even with poetry.

11) Sing palm unto thy Lord who is worthy, on whose hands lies everythang.

12) Holy, holy spirit, holy is thy Lord Almighty God.

13) Blessing be the name of thy Lord God. Amen! 🙏

Temporary is my existence on this planet I have mistaken as true,
For I am from beyond where my spirit flies free,
Celestial currents flow through melodiously within me,
As constellations hidden in my soul shine through my daily decree,
The wind whispers of limitations on my visitation rights as I fall to the illusion of security,
I am reminded by nature that I am not from here,
For I am from beyond where my spirit flies free.

IN THE POOL OF THE LOST MAIDEN SONG

                1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


                2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


                3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


                4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
"****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields."

A rhythm overflows the grief
moment by moment
rocking melodiously
words humming like velvet
soft like the rain on a spring day
soothing her head
surrounding her wandering mind

dissolving slowly like salt on her learned tongue
round twists and turns
creamy moving effortlessly through bendable tubes
soaking into new found places
squeezing harder
non lasciar andare

smarting palm against gripping-
breath heavy, warm and moist
gasp in cracked tones from far within
long, long, long

pressing, constricting
slippery and close
lips move slowly along open ears
touch gently
fall subtly closer still, yet again

eyes open, flutter quickly
passing over adoring breath
and wet lips
along the way loosened grip
squeeze once more
giusto per essere sicuri

flashing teeth in sure smile
understanding dimple
fingers flow and stop to rest
eyes flicker to dancing pupils
stars swirling
open and see
colors playing in the dark

curl around feet and legs
tight and tired
collapse and laced comfortably forever.

warm, strong hands;
the delicacy of his fingers
softly racing
d
o
w
n
the small of my back
losing my breath
heart beating;
lump in my chest.

a world unknown,
I have yet to feel for
someone
new,
my world spinning endlessly
as we lay
on the azure blue of his sofa couch;

feels so soft,
soft as the heaven and the clouds
as they wrap
             their arms
                          around the sun
and it slips into Darkness....

Darkness.
days of it.
nights of it.
yet the most remote light found
in the darkest of places

a cold lonely night,
riots; tragic news; insecurity...
he turns them into
radiance,
to the white of a sandy beach;
his soft skin, his beautiful gaze...
I get lost in that blue-green ocean
that bores into me
with all of their innocence.

I let him take me away
away from it all;
in that moment...
and as my skin brushes melodiously
against his enchantment
I know somehow that everything
has
changed,
and it is so far
from
                                                              undisclosed.

if only I could keep the sunshiny Darkness;
the togetherness of our loneliness;
the stillness of our fast-moving passions...
locked away secretly,
                                        a secret between (your lips and mine.)

You  are  the beautiful moon
But you can’t be bright
Without my powerful light
I am the glorious sun

You are a wonderful flower
But I am a buzzing bee
I will **** your nectar
You will make me a victor

I am a stupendous mountain
You are an amazing snow fall
You will beautify me
I am dutiful to you

You are a running river
I am a roaring sea
You will rush to me
I will embrace you

I am the season’s king
The beautiful spring
You are the melodious cuckoo
How melodiously you sing!

you are the burning fire
ButI am the cooling water
Without me you will blast and burst
Only I can quench your thirst

I am the shining day
You are the dark night
We meet twice every day
In the morning and in the evening

You are the sparkling nature Goddess
I am the gorgeous God
People may call us by different name
You and I are the only one and the same

IN THE POOL OF THE LOST MAIDEN SONG

                1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


                2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


                3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


                4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
"****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields."

Who goes to assignation, in a pleasant promenade of grove,
The flame of love is burning there
Which great warrior is singing melodiously?
In the middle of the unobstructed heart, the sound of the anklet jingling.
Who goes to assignation, in a pleasant promenade of grove.

Awake the night, taken the heart,
In the auspicious moment of moonlight
Very silently under the mimusops elengi
Said the words of the stored heart, inseparably.

So to ask, to whom to call in any tune,
The submerged heart remains full
The Jamuna flows exhausted
Even today, with painted eyes, what a picture to draw.

Who goes to assignation, in a pleasant promenade of grove,
The flame of love is burning there
Which great warrior is singing there?
In the middle of the unobstructed heart, the sound of the anklet jingling.

Melodiously
Two doves sit on a wire
Love partners for life

A slab of flesh, a big lug of moistened meat poised perfectly behind your teeth.

How does it know to stay there happily enclosed behind the primped maw?

My chest swings up and down as the uncertain wind chimes melodiously drone on

My toes curl as they anchor themselves to the manifestation of reality which is my bed

Release yourself of desire and your perception of self and you are free.

I am not merely DNA strands or small dainty hands.

I am unfathomable and that's how I know I exist, exquisitely undeniably present