Your caress...

It could be just an agitation in the mind
That devoured the words unknowingly;
Words that smouldered in the stumbling heart.
Or it could be the wailing of the shivering soul
In the wind of a winter sowing silence around.

Our lingua franca is so rich with the many beautiful
Words, if they are unsaid or unuttered.
What will be the colour of the feather, falling down
In the recess of a dream and reality?
At the inception, it will be flamboyant with
All the seven colours of the spectrum;
Then fading and blanching into
Disgusting grey, and finally
Into the copper colour of age old brass vessels’
Patina, where most of the time, love takes
Its toll of death finally, and walk away.

So, my dear, swallow your words you desire to utter,
Let the wine of tender love give crimson
Hue to the starving innards of my body,
And intensive sweetness to my scorching lips
Together with a benevolent touch on
My pale emaciated arms.

A melody in the eyes...

Blossom of a hermitage; a bloom, still not kissed,
Thrilling even the alter, where it is offered;
Where the lips radiate the glimmer of the rubies,
A composition of beauty of the loveliness of spring,
An embodiment of luscious tender emotions;
The opulence of the countenance, induce me to
Write subtle romantic poems, making me a poet.
Let that song resonate in your lips always.

In your eyes, where the blue ocean ripples,
Blooms a season of parching desires
That impels my soul, and gives me the impetus
To vivify those ardent desires, into words of a melody.

The nymphs of the clouds in the yonder blue,
Bowed their heads in reverence to your sapphire blue eyes.
I wish if I could become a sweet dream in there,
And my love, shoot out tender sprouts in joy.
The buds of roses adorning the morning dew drops,
Wilted after seeing the enviable lips quivering in you.
Let me write a poem abound in love, lurking in those eyes;
Let it sparkle and glisten in them for ever.