wind's tale
Literature, Love, Nature

Murky Clouds

Gentle translucent dew drops

brought along murky clouds

on grey chariots of northern winds

taking me in their mighty clutches 

tossing, spinning me to the

dimensions of the other world, 

as rays of amber Sun descended

on the eclipsed horizons, the  

mighty chariots of Northern winds  

froze in eternity and I once again

came back from the hell! 

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Persian Laila
Humour, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, satire, wit,

The Persian Laila

Having feasted past-midnight, PersianLaila got up lazily at the stroke of twelve. Wearing her sparkling tiara, she rose with a numbing headache resultant of a hangover,

Caused by the left-over French champagne that she drank greedily from the China glass of her Benevolent master.

Her master’s darling she occupied a special place in his cozy lap and abhorred the site of her pot-bellied mistress,

For Laila considered her as a staunch-competitor and purred when ever she dared come near especially at long intervals of midnight drinks .

She would adorn herself on the left thigh of master and lick heavenly nectar only from the corner his pinkish wrinkled hands.

A site to behold midst bubblingchampagne and the smoke of expensive Cuban cigars. Her blue eyes drunk with envy and rage, she fought hard and with everyone for her master’s attention.

On rare occasions of evening strolls, she would walk with snobbish air and displeased countenance on the cobbled streets of rustic New York

Looking down with disdain on all other pussies in the town as she deemed them to be too causal and boring in the appearance,

For Laila came from the Persian peninsula from the house of the grand pasha of Azerbaijan, her great-grandmother the dark-eyed Hoorie was a favorite of the sultan-Suleiman

And what a cherished presence on all matters important of every concern but was slain on one moonless night by the jealous ladies of Sultan’s Harem,

All were fine, till troubles started to brew, for master was a man of excess and one Persian damsel was not enough and yearned for another beauty to occupy the vacant right thigh!

So brought a petite French this time, Annabella who had a legacy of her own, for she came-from the family of Master pastry chef, Monsuier Jean Paul employed in the house of King Louis XII

Both pussycats couldn’t look each other in the eye for both was endowed with looks and style to charm any.

One fine day while the master was away, in a brawl with each other both got their tails entangled, the mistress had enough and decided to sail one of them away…

And who better than the Persian Laila, for she was never in her good books. Hence a plan was hatched and poor Laila was swiftly hurried off to live with an old woman in quite a corner

Of the town and master was told a tale of how she eloped with neighbor’s Valentino who had-no history to boast of. 

Annabella now the reigning queen while Laila spent her time remembering the days of glory gone by.

missing
History, Literature, Nature, poetry, Uncategorized

Metamorphosis

I grew up beyond the grey walls….

Walls that changed hues under varied spells,

mama would strictly keep me inside.

 

The thick silver parapets adorned tiny holes,

black ashen specks from where I marveled

at the cruel oddity of the world.

 

A faded sepia of Papa hung at a crooked

angle-tilted towards outside,shadowing

other picture-frames.

 

The grim monsoons brought spree of life

stamping on foundations of boundless

hedge, spreading its tentacles…

 

Vile serpentine vines of bougainvillea invaded

sacred space, by keeping me in restraints

stealthily crawling into me.

 

I see scaly lizards licking the swollen damp

crusts of the walls, that now turned

purplish hue, squeaking hushly;

“papa zedes, papa zedes

papa zedes, papa zedes”

 

Terrified of clicking sounds,every monsoon

I meticulously filled up fissures with 

Papa’s old black and whites.

 

Once smacked across the sugar face smiling,

I always beamed when I sobbed inside,

tongue at loss of words….

I covered the last fissure with the only picture 

I had of Papa.

 

Forever barricading myself with-in walls, I

metamorphosed into silver, a mass of

cemented blood in concrete limbs.

Fortifying myself of the lingering echoes…

“papa zedes, papa zedes

papa zedes, papa zedes”

 

 

Desires
Love, Nature, poetry

Lofty Desires

I aimed for the mountain

top while rare florets ooze

from the ground

beneath me, I longed

for the sparkling stars

neglecting the lapis lazulis

laying on the beds of the mighty rivers 

I craved to suckle on the

heavenly nectar, while

bees synchronized intricate

combs in my backyard

then when the dusk spread

its raven wings, I reclined

on my couch, cursing

the Fortuna for the missed

chances in Paradise, while

the orchards around prepare

for the early fruition.

couple
Love, Nature

Elysium (Paradise)

The moment when your glance fell on me

rivers of lust flew surging so many emotions

opening fissures of my soul, but as I stretched

my hand to feel the warmth of that glint, it

evanesced into a fourth dimension, as I

lay sunken in golden bed of desires, each

cell in my body bathed in your after-shadow,

that amorous silhouette engraved on my

bronze heart, aching for one last time 

the perfect rapture of bodies ,for the final

communion of my parched lower lip with your

upper lip, where dwells million diamond

dew drops, my sole pathway to 

Elysium after death!

life, Nature, poetry, Uncategorized

When I Die

When I die, do not cremate me

lets not erect massive tombs

or embellish any symbols,

Let nature take its course.

 

No one will weep or mourn

Just abandon my body on

The Towers of Silence of

ancient Zoroastrians followers

of Ahura Muzda.

 

Scavengers will nibble,

maggots will feast, worms

will build their abode in me

Nature will take its course.

 

If any morsel of my remains

is left, scatter it on the regal

Himalayas, the divine peaks

of my blessed ancestors.

 

Offer it the vast ocean whose

lapis-lazuli waters gushed in

my veins, where my aging mother

performed her final ablutions.

 

And if you need a shoulder

to lean on, seek the company

of wise old deer, who was the

only love of my life.

 

Make it known to the blind

pontiff in the dilapidated

temple across the sacred

river to spare me nectar

of the exquisite heavens.

 

For my hungry soul will take

the ancient route of Elephants

in search of moksha, and

vaporize in cyanic skies.

 

Nature will take its course…..

 

 

 

Moose
Love, Nature, poetry, Uncategorized

The Colossal Poise

I ran naked midst tall elephant grasses

breathless, gasping for some air in my

emaciated lungs collapsing  on the

red Earth beneath.

 

Alarmed by the blob of sounds oozing

from the fissures, leaned  and settled

my left ear to listen to the heart-beats

of my own unborn still floating in 

 vast cores.

 

Gentle pulsing sighs of life gone too

soon from the bare lap, snatched savagely

from my bloody hands. In the hours

of gloom, I ask the cause of my doom;

 “Was it my doing?”

Is the question I implore the most!

 

I a poet could never muster strength

to take out few words from the repository 

of  the colossal dictionaries to pen an eulogy.

Could never erect a tomb for the light that

fizzled out in front of my  stony eyes, if only

I could cover the infant flame with my own

hands, is the probability I plead the most!

 

And just when I stooped further for hearing

a dark shadow hovered eclipsing rays of the 

blistering Sun, a giant moose beseeching me 

to leave, for now it was  the turn of the

Colossal Poise to kneel down…

mamma
feminine, life, Love, Nature, poetry

Mamma (Mother)

(This poem is a tribute to my mamma ( as I call her) for being an amazing mother, for raising two children single, working hard to put food in our hungry bellies, for loving us so much, for setting us free and fad away)

 

Carried in warm waters of her womb

for 280 days ,raising two children along

with abuses of father who existed in

his absence.

 

Ran from pillar to pillar, shore to shore

in scorching heats and icy colds to put

a loaf of bread on that severed table

brutal reminder of wedding that

once too  place. 

 

The sheer poise in her demeanor will 

guard her children from, the evil that

dwells in this world,that assuring smile

would blanket her little ones from the

coldness that only humans are capable of.

 

And when the time came she walked

two steps behind waning and waxing

like the aged moon,for sons who were

once lovers turned blind, feebly tamed 

by the shrewd ways.

 

What she achieved was extraordinary

no bills or coins of worth but the 

glorious grace to stand on her own, 

A lesson  learnt since she a woman 

came into the world.

 

It didn’t matter there was a beautiful

symmetry in her fragile body, the 

enthralling rhythm in her walk and

that charm, a rare one that some 

poets celebrate…

 

She was to be a vision which shines

without rays of cruel Sun, she was to

guard her place of work, learn to be

loved without a man on her side.

 

From the high cliff now that I see, this will be

be the world of some father and sons,

of few dimes and family names but I’ll

always be my mamma’s little girl!

 

 

loveliest soul
Love, Nature, poetry, Spirtual

A Believer

Me a speck of dust

insignificant particle 

May be a believer or 

may be not….

Yet here I am…,

here I am with

topaz rays of the

glorious Sun on my 

malformed face.

Azure brook flowing

gently through my

blistered feet.

Fluttering of crushed

leaves, music to 

mine ears.

Buzzing of bees, melody

of  fallen florets.

Beats of mine unborn in

the womb of violated

Earth

May be a believer

or may be not…

Yet here I am.

 

 

 

 

 

 

life, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

Snobbish Indifference

Stolen glances 

missing beats 

those translucent

moments, porous 

breaths evaporated 

in cheap sooty puffs 

of gas-station

cigarettes, lungs 

choked of highway

psychedelics, motel

caffeine to measure

vaccant hours of 

your casual neglect, 

I measure from

puff to puff,

smoke to smoke

and make most of

those empty

hours, all while

gazing at your 

sinful lips,

marveling the

arched Sicilian 

nose where rests 

that snobbish  

indifference…