It was a beautiful rainy day.The rains showered like blessings from the sky to mother earth.The drops drizzled over several stunning creations of God. The ***** frog winked in fright when the tiny drop thumped on its peeping head which it had kept out from its water world curious to know what's happening outside.The lazy ladybird hides itself in the rug of leaves it hopped and played till then.Little dusty leaves quivered with joy as they rejoiced and celebrated the long waited bath.

      Far aloof,the village looked so spanking new than ever after it was wetted by the light rain.so modest,so composed,the radiating sun put itself out of sight making way to the pompous clouds.Besides all these petite feelings,the livid eagle gaped at the sky sniping for it had missed its daily glide over the rusty mountains.

      All these tiny things shaped out the background,while the main subject remains undescribed yet.The big fat buffalo stands aright in tranquility as if nothing new happened.Its skin so tight,shining so bright,created a beautiful sight as the raindrops tapped on it pitter patter.Its horns like engraved artifacts mirrored each other and stood still amazed at their similarity.The momentary muddy puddle covered up its hooves.

      And now comes the most interesting foreground of the picture. It’s the little cute boy!!! Small dark brown eyes...Umpteen hopes filled in them. He wore the most beautiful jewel on his face....it’s his smile gleaming with merriment. While his tiny hands held tight the wicker, his entire little body hid itself behind the huge gunny he wore to shield against the shower. He hopped over the small puddle creating beautiful waves and exquisite splashes.

      And that forms the most beautiful picture about which my dad told me.The little boy is none other than my dad. :) :) .

In life, there are so many instances where we see some of the most amazing scenes but regret of not having an SLR camera with us to capture 'em. I have so many such beautiful pics captured in my brain and just wanna put them out here!! ;)
It was a beautiful sunny day in spite of being rainy season…I got ready to office in a very typical hurry – burry leisure and came out to bus stop. I have one good habit of not getting i-rated even if the bus does not show up for half an hour or so. That’s mainly coz I start observing every minute thing during the wait : P Like the way people walk, the patterns on morning sky, various fonts used on shop names, people’s expressions in vehicles…what not :D .
Amidst these inspections, one view caught my sight in delight. I saw a middle aged lady in her dusty clothes. She looked pale and thin with curly hair that looked not so neat. She was sweeping the shoulders raising a lot of sand. While all was nothing so special, came a little girl running from where I donno!!.The lady looked at her keeping aside her broom and took over her on her shoulders.
        As I moved my eyes a little to the right, I saw a dirt cart which is usually kept to throw the garbage. Here follows the most astonishing scene. To my disbelief, the lady placed the kid in it. She continued sweeping. From the background of many huge trees, the sun rays escaped out and lightened up the whole natural setting that was created. Now all I saw was laughter on the little angel not bothered about anything in the world but the dust that was rising. She clapped and clapped her hands while it looked like the sun rays also joined their hands to make an unheard tune. So unintentionally and innocently, did her movements create various stunning patterns of dirt that created a foggy look.
This was the moment I wanted to click it J

Spring in Kansas.
It doesn’t come in softly.
It roars in with the wind and rain beating against a steel roof, washing into the old soddies and stone,
Clearing out winter in one giant breath.
The change comes within a week,
From dry dead, brown, to startling green, an emerald landscape of winter wheat.  
The emerald isle has nothing on Kansas in the Spring.  
Then the color starts, red buds against glorious green fields
and thunderous skies, a painters dream uncaptured.
And forsythia, the first blooms, beautiful and stark.
Crocus, daffodil and dandelion crowning the ground with gold.
The trees, bare of leaves, burst forth with flowers in shades of white and pink and the magnolias burst forth, ready to fly off the tree.
Our mighty cotton wood, drooping with frills that will become light catching tufts in the early summer sun as the leaves murmur their constant song, piling like snow in the heated streets.
Thunder rolls as lightning strike turning day into night with hail filled clouds and twisters striking like Greek gods, angry and awesome.
Creeks flood and clear the way for tadpoles and crawdads in streams and pools.
Spring comes, the earth warms, we all wake and stretch and wait for the sunflowers to do the same, yearning to the summer sun.

The first smooch kiss
A spring night
Moonlit pastoral lake
Dancing elm, oak, and pear
Mild breeze
Courting song of crickets and katydid
Secrecy and silence
Standing close, smiling, and stirring
Our necks tilted on the right
One hand behind and one front
Thumbs caressing the face
And fingers
releasing the locks of your hair

Our hands massaging behind and front
The adorable landscape of love
Bump and *******
Belly and waist
Crossed legs
Delirious smell of the skin
Taste of your rosy lips and sweet saliva
The taste of one another
Outer eyes closed, inner open
My upper lip between your lips
Your lower lip between mine

Rubbing, pressing, *******, kissing
Small and big, short and long
Goose bumps and blushing
Breathtaking, timelessness, breathless
Uncaptured, indefinable moment!

Watch out as we struggle to maintain
the withering roots with a dose of intolerance
Blasted through the decade aged monitor that
We can't afford to replace because these
suits and briefcases are tattered together to call substantial and the white building you cruise to each day ain't that blinding anymore
For all the 'accidental' 'unknown' and 'uncaptured' hangings you dated
And the collar around your necks
Got no creases in them
Like those on the hand of his sister
as she sits by the coffin

A nighttime recess.

An awareness embedded
within the thickened folds,
layered - one upon another.

Second upon second.
Minute over minute.
Hour after hour.

Rendering me unheard
and vague.

A stream of consciousness
that runs uncaptured.
Unexplained and unreasoned.

Consistent and tiresome.
Haphazardly predictable.

Routine like
                      clockwork.

What subtle and suggestive words I wish I could speak to your sublime beauty.
If a picture itself is worth a thousand poetic words
and life itself is a collection of unending, unaiming, uncaptured pictures
then what sweet words could be said to you with these lips
with this pen
that wouldn't be better expressed in action,
reaction,
interaction,
interwinement,
*******,
well of course;
I am a coward
and I say nothing to you
and I linger on in null contemplation
of the slippy words I would weave
as they stay sadly swimming in my clouded mind.

The lullaby of loneliness
Envelopes you in the dead of sparkly nights
Gazing up at the unchanging constellations
You crash down from its dizzing musical heights


The lullaby of loneliness
Alone forms the haunting lament
Springs forth from the deepest recess of your heart
Giving away isolation's uncaptured scent


The lullaby of loneliness
Day in and day out, I'll sing it to you
If only in return for the beautiful melancholy
You would fill up my heart, where it first grew


The lullaby of loneliness
    Remains elusive forever
        To so very few..

Whats lost when the masses
Make a pose. All of them out there
Standing the streets
So natural and frozen
I could disapear for eons
Hoping
Ill live forever
Regretting the punishment
Of
Knowing I forgot my third eye
To observe

the forgettable souls simmer and
Rise into the open air
And fade forever with all
The uncaptured moments
In time
Un able to repeat the same exact perfection.

"Visitational Voids"

Your veins hold stardust and we have the beginning and ending of time within ourselves.  I'm not looking for more time or untarnished love. I'd just like for a quiet to come over me as it does when we sink below a broken surface. Matter belonging to my ancestors and of my unborn children, I return to simplicity that's so pure and so dark, raining a timeless, stagnant glory. A temperatureless void in space where infinity contains answers. Where we wed to one another to exist in inevitable, unquestionable cohesiveness. Where fear isn’t scary. Where it comes uncaptured and intangible. Where what's tangible is our cosmos souls. Your human ego and mine, left behind, and the forever living that you and I do, conforms to the human theocracy about Big Bang. Our indivisible held hands expel so much passion, heat, human, lively things that we create new life.  This is the quiet. Take me to space, where it's a hum of stars. We can waste away into rebirth and recycle elemental allocations of consciousness and moral sounds.
-d.r 12.16.15

When I think of a love story
I can not help but to think about you
and us.
I think about those moments of uncaptured life and beauty.
Moments the world will never know.
When I think of a love story,
I think about the way our eyes communicate in ways our mouths sometimes can’t.
I think of how our hands fit together so nicely,
like the missing pieces to a puzzle.
I think about how bold this love is.
It isn’t something we have to look for in the fine print,
and this is not just about the chapters that speak of the butterflies that sit in the mystical garden you have planted inside me.
It’s every line that reminds me of the peace your presence brings.
In a world of noise and distortion,
I find peace and clarity with you.
When I think of a love story,
I can not fail to think of this love.
A love so beautiful even hollywoods finest cannot picture.
A story so good that as the pages flip I can not help but pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

You And Me

We are Moments
Uncaptured, Unattended
We are the Flight
Unrestricted, Unbounded

You and Me

We are the Souls
Free and Formless
We are the Fire
Fierce and Intense

You and Me

We are Love
All Sober and all Mad
We are the Dreams
All Petite and all Grand

You and Me

We are Anything
that we can imagine
We are the Gods
Building our own Heaven.

Ah,
uncaptured thoughts.

There's seldom a prospect more frightening to me,
thus I don a notebook & glorious pen
as my sword and shield
with which I'll tirelessly defend
my ever wavering memory.

What if I had no control
Of bitterness, I of hatred bold
What I say is cruel and wrong
You and I don't get along.

What if we planted seeds
Of evil... we in hell conceived.
What if I was a serial killer
Uncaptured and spreading terror

What if I was unrestrained
In tongue wicked and untamed
Holding the bit between my teeth
A horse of wrath beyond belief!

Do you think it's weak to hold that in?
The pounding weight of horrid sin?
Please don't pronounce me weak!
All I want is to learn, to seek!

Yes, meekness isn't weakness
The opposite in fact! Ì now seek
Power under great control
Childhood toll I am old..

Lord, give mercy to preserve and save
From the cradle to the grave.

oh dear
the redundant offspring's of the revolting slave traders
are cracking their odious empty heads in riotous rage
bristling with murderous frustration frothing like rabid dogs
for a warrior uncaptured dared refuse their snares disdainfully
and in further consternation to so called woke thieving merchants
shows these carcasses what strength and intelligence is all about

oh dear
the inadequate moronic offspring's of the revolting slave traders
have been disgraced and shamed and called out as common rogues
liars, crooks, odious reprobates, cowardly consummate embezzlers
nefarious back-stabbing poltroons only brave in ganging an mobbing
inherent bullies who plundered and ***** from east north and south
now seeing the children of their slaves ascending heights over them

oh dear
the puffed up no brass cockerel offspring's of revolting slave traders
in lingering malaise ineffectual and deflated isms are spitting nails
for the one man out there that would never represent a slave
from noble birth he sail and in sublime honour he thrives in glory
their stuff of nightmare the regal ebony that outshines dwindling ivory
they have become crazed and tearing lank hairs out they hobble on war path

oh dear
the ignorant uncouth bumptiously self entitled asinine offspring's
of the psychotic slave traders
are fighting for their birth right to use and subjugate all other races
history does not serve fools well and ignorance is a prevalent disease
oh dear, what can the matter be, dear dear  what can the matter be
Johnny's so long at the lynching party
he promised to bring me silver diamonds, gold tobacco tea and
coffee and also a shrunken head from Peru
oh dear