"pittar" poems
They swayed and reeled intensely
Surging the pulse
And warming the heart of the Okija temple
They are the cynosure of every conscious cell.
Pittar patter, pita-pat
Chitter chatter, Chita-chat
Their beads sang
As their waists struck each cord
Their eyes smiled,
And gleamed like stars
Their hands move pari-pasu
Like unending waves.
The pains in their feet
Turns to sweetness in our eyes.
Their legs capture
The heads of everyone
In its eclectic movement
Their smiles make men,
Want to create a resonance,
Then there is the urge to caress them,
But can they be touched?
They are like hot coals
Churning out in myriads
They are too blazing,
To be passed over.
They don’t know what or who they are,
But they are aware of their essence
An essence, not near fulfilment
An essence, close to satisfaction
They know that they were born to dance,
Because nothing dances better than the sea.
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
I looked up,a little hope in sight
Been forever since heard the pittar patter
The only thing which makes me quiet
Suddenly the guilt inside me died
As I felt the drops of rain trickling down my conscience
Mad with joy I was
I forgot what I did I past
The first rain washed it all away
The thing I feared will stay
The first rain sculptured the new me
With overwhelming fragrance of wet mud and glee
From then I was never chased by my bad dreams
The old me was long been drained
All my sins vanished , they died with greed
Thanks to season's first rain
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC