You are my poem…

While corpses of my longings floats
Through my dreams, the silent anguish
Arising in the subconscious, insist me
To look back and chronicle those days.

Though I cannot blot out your tears
With words, I express my love as poem
Which I crimson with the blood of
My heart, I still can through a kiss
For a moment, blot out the moisture
Of the agony overwhelming your blue eyes,
That weaves exquisite poems, radiating
The loveliness of spring flowers.

I can as well stitch out a smooth silky scarf
With sweet rhapsody sodden with love.
The songs of love in my soul is kissing
The flute of my passions, to let you know
The unfathomable depth of my intimacy, and.
The entire earth and sky diffuse in your eyes now.

Passing away...…

Unable to take away anything
We earned or accumulated;
Unable to complete the tune
We started composing and hum,
We climb down the steps silently from
This stage, where we have been
Enacting a play, with scenario
And screen play created without our
Awareness, and directed by God knows who?

The sunshine that came in the morning
From one bearing, vanished and faded out
Through another direction in the evening.
Smiling through green leaves and settling
In the lap of fondling waves of the ocean.
Aching moist eyes close, even while
Bidding farewell for another night.


We come only once through this trail
To carry out and then exit from the play
Once our part is enacted completely;
Or sever off incomplete at an intermission.
By the time we make out the meaning of life
It will be too late to make a course correction.
Yet, the dainty reminiscence succeeding death
Spills its fragrance of heavenly nectar into the soul!

Ruminations…

Life makes me bereaved and in despair,
Though the heart long to laugh out.
This life is a tragic play where
There is no choice for the role
We desire to play along, till the end.
Passions in the mind wake up and arise
Even when I try to curb them and
Lull them to sleep, and soothe;
Like startling at hearing the voice
Of the paramour, in expectation.
I tried to soften the quivers on my heart’s lyre,
The love song that incessantly overwhelm
In my muddled mind as a torrential flood.
How can I compress and constrict the sweet
Fragrance of the endless spring into
A small bud of a jasmine?
Let the stars laugh and wink their eyelids
Teasing the lotus for its penance for the sun.
The heartache and agony of mankind
And their endearing dreams are of
No value in his terrain, throughout life.

ONCE!

Would you forget my silent strain of grief,
The song that is sung, endlessly in my heart?
The tear laden eyes that brims, when it’s
Unable to see each other, and the heart that
Forgets all rancour, that was beheld there.
Did you forget the untraceable thumbnail pictures,
You drew on the palm of my hand?
Do you remember the first kiss that I gave
You in the twilight, standing away from the light
That trickled from the house you lived.

Though you have drifted away from me,
Bidding farewell, a short while back,
A thousand rainbows in the mind are
Calling me again and again back to
Those days we spend together in glee.
I remember those evenings when you
Stood with half closed eyes in your ecstasy,
As my lips brushed your cheeks with passion.
And the consolation, with a thousand tongues
You gifted, when I was grieved in my heart.
Though I long to keep away all my memories
About the many days we had together,
The endearing aches overwhelming the eyelids
Awaken me with its outstretched flares…

Eternal groans…

Give a refuge for me among the waves of
Oblivion, you the ocean of ages!
You write everything and obliterate
All things that were ever written, in your march.
Passions and desires become spring seasons,
Then turns out as periods, and points of time.
Bowers garlanded with sweet flowers that was once,
Have turned into burrows where serpents hide out.
You are not overwriting, but erasing everything
And is rewriting afresh with new splendours,
Granting novel hues, and themes to it.

Ripples of love soar up there and fills
Heavenly raptures and rhapsodies in the mind.
Finally the cherubic nymphs and fairies transform
Into bizarre figures,that the eyes detest to watch..
You never attempt to topple down an edifice
But build them; yet you draw the dawn
As dusk that melts down in your folds.

Mansions in the air!

Oh! Sages, where is that glorious morning
That you promised to the mankind,
Deceiving them through ages by telling them
That Truth is God and the stories relating
To heaven about gods and goddesses,
And the life they lead in paradise.

Now gold coins and paper currencies
Rule this world in bursting laughter.
Mankind run after it, like bloodhounds
After their quarry, in the wild forests.
Justice and charity, morality and virtue,
Have been vanquished, in the battle fields.

You have shown and assured a dawn
Where the sun of love and peace will rise up;
The sun that was in deep sleep in mythology.
Where is that promised morning now?


*Dharmaputra who lost his kingdom
Is seeking a forest to dwell in peace;
Krishna is no longer there to carry
An errand for them to the Kouravas.
Or recite the Geetha to Arjun.
Those epic hymns have now become
Tragic poems and being ignored.
No mornings are there conveying the ripples
Of the songs of love in this earth now.
What happened to promised predictions?

* Ref: Maha Bharatha Stories

Pervading fragrance...

Harmony, reprieve and quarrel!
That is the history of mankind in succinct.
Preparedness, hindrance; they make the
The theme of a love story.
Seasons may come and then leave.
They will spread out pearls all around,
And gather them back before its return.
Blossoming flowers will wither away,
Nevertheless, will fill the air with its fragrance.
That scent will skulk and persist for ever.
A thousand eons will enjoy that perfume.

Destiny will always grin on the futile
Fate of humans, without discrimination;
And God will simulate sleeping all the time,

Anxiety!

The moon opened
Its nuptial bower,
Folding up its
Sapphire blue drapes.
The spring season
Possessed the night.
Is your paramour
Coming to night?
If not, what made you
To appear only half naked,
And wait in the harem
For his arrival, impatiently?
When a gust of wind
Suddenly opened the tiny window,
I saw you putting
Your palms to cover your bosom
Hiding your bashfulness.
I saw you dousing the golden shawl
In scented dewdrops and laying out
Over the mantelpiece.
And you were looking down
On the floor, in coy meekness
As you heard his treads approaching
Your chamber door, and your face
Beamed in exhilaration, excited
By the twitching euphoria.

A glow worm...

I will forget everything, my moonshine;
Will forget all in the dreams.
You are the teardrop of a blossom.
You are the pearl drop of the dainty dew.
Or the craving thirst of my stricken spirit.

Does a butterfly enjoy the spring
While smouldering in a flaming pyre?
Does the embers of my heart has some radiance
While it lies in the ocean of thawing ice?
The wandering desires are seeking the shores
That recedes away farther from me.
No stars are twinkling in the yonder
Only a twinging mind in desolation!
Do the dead quarrel with any one living?
Is there any whimpering coming out
Of a bird that has lost its wings?
Even a glowworm has a tiny light
Of its own, in the lonely night.
And a life emitting light to the living ones...

My paradise…

If this moonlight, these flowers, this breeze
And you are with me eternally;
The music in the song of the nightingale;
This ache and twinge and you in my presence,
Giving me the ecstasy of a life time;
The sandal paste you adorn on your pretty forehead
The saffron moistened by the pearl of your sweat
As my fingers wipe them out while
I endearingly fondle your countenance
Sitting together in the moonlight;
Like a cloud showering its moist drops
On the leaves in the garden
I will cuddle your sweet face then…

The supple radiance of your body that
Lie sleeping on my chest, at this moment
Is similar to the dew drops on the blade of a grass,
And like the a pretty pearl blossoming in the mother of pearl,
Caressed by the serene rays of the evening sun.
The sweetness of your name pervades in each of my words.
I feel your proximity in my boundless dreams.

Guest of honour!

Is that the bracelet on your hand calling my name?
Is that drop of nectar lingering on your
Coral lips, beseeching a kiss from me?
Does each of your heart beat always
Whisper involuntarily my name?
Does that sandal paste in your smile
Preserved to anoint my cheeks, in time?

The lover seeking the nectar filled blossom
Has reached the flower, and cupid with
His sensitive arrows, enthused the thirst of passion,
The tender petals awoke in the chill of lust
And drops of honey were brimming with ecstasy.

How dainty is this charming earth
That greets the radiance of love, as guests!
How immortal is this moment that
Brings my beloved to lay her head against my chest?

Fragrance from past births…

Whence is this sweet scent emanating?
Coming, seeking me with its fragrance!
A heavenly scent bringing forth the nostalgia
Of a period, before my birth and my present existence.
Inexplicable, yet embedded in the soul through births.
Or stemming from a flower that bloomed somewhere;
Or from the loving dream of a blossom.
Whence it came into this soggy moonlight?

Could it be the sigh from the soul,
Which always bear unknown miseries and melancholy?
Like bringing a message this way
From an unseen nymph, of her love,
That could not be expressed previously.
Like an articulation approaching from far beyond
From the kingdom of stars and galaxies,
Of extra terrestrials in love with the earth,
In ripples and embracing the shores of the spirit;
Subjugating the subliminal and whisking away
Into the realm of a phantasmagoria through which
I am moving like driftwood in a flood.

A sad memoir!

Same voice, same complexion;
An evening sky devoid of all splendours;
Empty and dreary with no clouds around;
Desolate shores where millions flowers of froth
Are given birth by the sea, unsavoured ...

Silence builds a nest in the heart
An everlasting pain sustained and stood
In the celestial sphere, without diffusion.
Winter and spring arrived and departed
With its melodious tidings and ornate grandeur;
Boisterous exhilarations and joyful outbursts.

Still the mind was in penance
Without articulations;
Only a grey flower dangled on the
Branches of reminiscence, unshriveled...

The word!

Everything has been said in a word.
A flower bloomed in the soul, at one glance.
Who looted the precious pearl,
From deep inside the heart?
Smiles exploded one after the other
On my jasmine, as it blossomed.
Sucking the nectar from the petals of
The flowers, who sang the mellifluous dulcet?
The chilly breeze playfully whispered
Something in the ears, on its way through here.
Glittering stars and an enchanting rainbow
Appeared in the far horizon!
Nature stood still in wonder, unable to assume.
What was that word!

My modesty

Ebulliently I coveted for a kiss, a sweet kiss;
An embrace on the lips by the love beetle;
I yearned and then my soul stirred.
But my modesty did not allow me to tell you my desire.

In the chilling early morning among the awaking
Blossoms, when you stood near me with your
Coquettish talks and me in the shade of a jasmine
That emitted the fragrance of a thousand dreams,
I turned into another vine and my bosom was quivering;
And I was shivering with my bashfulness,
I failed to utter my craving, out of my modesty.

It was a freezing breeze in the evening while
We were standing on the shore and the sea
Spreading millions of blossoms of froth
Around us, and I turned into another wave of that
Shore, my eyes gazing at the point of your
Curves in the midriff and my pulsating longing
To cuddle you and fondle your vivacious face;
But I could not, as my shyness made me disinclined…

Masks...

Someone said, ‘the face is the mirror of the mind’.
It can’t be the truth since the true face is
Hidden, always behind the mask of grins,
Camouflaged artfully
Over a sea of anguish and frustration.
Love in adolescence could be amusing
And delightful to recollect later, but
It could turn out to be a cyclone striking
Over the ash covered embers of
Reminiscence and may flare up any time.

Love is a delight, when confronted for the first time.
It becomes a burden when it loses its glamour.
The magic stems from the ignorance
That it can never end, and is eternal.
Words unspoken are then heard;
Invisible things come into view;
Without touching the senses feels the touch;
A miracle is happening inside…LOVE.
We call it love with its eternal angle.
‘Oh! Love is real enough; you will find
It someday, but it has one arch enemy
AND THAT IS LIFE.’

Pandora's box...

A music emanating from stones,
A flaring beam of light, in darkness.
An oasis found too late for the wearied soul,
That stumbled and limped through gloom.

Why should the sky be aware of the agony
Of a bird that lost its wings in flight?
What is the need for a garden to express
Compassion in the angst of a blossom,
Whose petals have wilted, scorched and withered?
Is there anyone in this earth, who has ever realized
The truth of human life, and its mysterious ways?

These are like the way of the eagle in the air;
The way of a serpent on a rock;
And the way of a ship in the midst of the sea;
Unable to comprehend and profess!
Our earth is rotating on its axis and revolving
Around the sun, always in fixed orbits;

Like dawns, like dusks
The human lives are infinitesimal as births
And rebirths occur in its natural ways.
Who remains in this earth having understood
The vagaries and complexities of birth?
It still remains and stands out as a riddle!