black and white abstract painting
feminine, life, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

Dawn

You my dear love, like a sceptic shock

entered my limbs and gave me a

a wasted kiss.


A lazy embrace which lay stretched

like hollow streets, hyper, hypnotic I ran

towards those sepia streets.


Time didn’t freeze, as it never does,

Yes! Sun will be the Moon tomorrow;

never doubt what the blind women say.


Wind withers on letting her raven hairs

down, making way for that barefooted

dreary dawn.


To descend coyly in the wedding gown

and embrace the Sun and the Sewage;

You and me in it’s sandy shroud.

gloomy face on bones in dark
life, Literature, Love, poetry

Sweet Grief

Sweet grief, come sit with me

relax, recline and rejoice.

I was aghast when you left me

at the dawn for the Sun to clasp

and the hope to flutter.

Sweet grief lie down with me

now don’t stomp or be in hurry

or if you attempt to leave

this time, I’ll hold you by

by your narrow neck and

show you what suffering

looks like, when the daylight

comes and the elusive hope flies by.

countdown
Literature, Nature, poetry

Countdown For The Day

Morning sun shone
in its full glory. 
Coffee quarrels 
and stiff body.

Artificial catnap, 
guess sleep-aid pills;
again did it’s wonder.

Neighbor’s black poodle, 
Vanity lazing on mosaic porch
Lusting a blooming orchid
licking edges of master’s fingers…

Spray roses with no
fragrance hung neatly 
in cheap Edwardian vase
on a yellowish marble mantle

Incoherent gibberish bla bla
of quirky Morning shows 
incredulous laughter
delinquent  sarcasms

Countdown begins 
midst sips of sooty coffee.
Quality of life measured by
barrage  of human folly…

Madam Giselle
feminine, Literature, poetry, satire

Madam Giselle’s Pride

“Makeupum Divina lipstickum 

Hail Oh, scentum , perfumee lios

Goddess Stilettum que sara sara”

Madam Giselle woke up to one glorious afternoon,

and damn those long-long lashes stretching little

over than the river Nile. Sparkling stilettos towering 

way above the heights of the leaning Towers of Pisa!

Having Insight 24 inches waist Madam stretched her back,

skillfully squeezed her belly to adorn golden Victorian 

corset, but it wasn’t to be easy for Gods have conspired and

were hell bent to bring down the penniless heiress from the

25 floor Ivory Castle.

As madam painted her face white with crushed powders of

corals from the far-off Gulfs in the fashions of Japanese Geisha

Fluttered fake lashes, ostentatious snobbish smiles extending

little more than her chiseled jaws, heavily armored with

 French powder and perfumes.

All the effort to slay any man who dare to passed by, hurriedly made

her way through the narrow allies of apartment suit in a

perpendicular fashion to avoid crushing her precious creases.

Oh so much pride, such high vanity, but she is indeed a beauty!

Tragedy fell upon! A loud thunder as heavens roared

heels cracked the sparkling Stilettos fell apart before her careful

gaze giving way to the bare ankles. It was to be the

first omen,

Acrimonious beings floating  fluttering in air laughing,

giggling; a loud thunder & descended million unwelcome

tiny crystal droplets, soaking the kohl smudged eyes

cascading into pools of black waters….

“Why it had to happen to me” ,cried Madam Giselle

Was my crime to be in vain or was it just a naive disdain?

For tell me folks is
little pride bad for a woman of my type? 

Fear of woman in window
life, Love, poetry

Mad Man

Sorcerer he imagined days of virtuosity

those hours of maniac creativity.

Ladies and only ladies objected to his mighty chicken;

but never a ladies man, he was a bloke

Now as his mind became flat with hay

and ethered breaths as he lay.

Pancing back and forth in strange darkness,

gazed at the sky full of moons in naked starkness.

Mother stood in embellished wedding frock,

a chalky dream, it was never to be a cakewalk.

Midst cat droppings, and shattered dreams

he wished to defile a flower again.

But he was nothing but a Mad Man

women wearing white and brown swimsuit standing on seashore
Love, Nature, poetry

Las California

” And therefore I’ve sailed the seas and come

to the holy city of Byzantium’

-William Butler Yeats

Drifting towards las California

surfing coast to coast,

in a state of frenzied hysteria.

In the city of cock-tail

baby it’s gonna be all hearty and hail.

Now don’t you believe those blind poets;

who proclaim surrender and succumb,

and miserable kindness is all the worth.

Truth is in youth, tanned body is all the mirth.

Ember sun, droplets of sweet-sweet wine

that cerulean azure sky-line.

The low hanging palm palanquins,

and the glorious home coming queens.

Before the golden Aprils begins,

sun-city is the new Byzantium;

and beams of warmth my holy mausoleum.

Sinful Dips
Love, Nature, poetry, sensual, woman

Sinful Dips

I took sinful dips in vast seas of love embracing

you tightly, with a terror of drowning in the

deep waters of desires. Wines from your

lips did wonders, for I went and came back

from the hell fires, taking sinful dips

in the waters of love.

 

Shedding all vestiges of shame, clothed only

in translucent moon-light while holding

you tightly, trying to sooth the amber

of my flesh with your cigar breaths.

 

I performed holy ablutions to wash off any

lingering doubts of cravings, let raven

hair loose to sway in directions unknown,

only to clasp a caress in my nets in the

deepest pits of desires.

 

While softly twirling on the rubenesque flutes

of thirsts, closed my eyes and swam to the

farthest corners of desire to discover a

dated relic of yours resting in the

sea-beds of my whims.

 

Knowing that magical things might happen,

I allowed myself to completely penetrate

in the realms of darkest fantasies to,

accomplish once a flawless rapture of bodies.

While you played your wicked games

I let lose more shames just to capture a

whiff of your perfume, to break an ancient

spell of absence while taking sinful

dips in vast seas of love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harp's Nylon Strings
Books, Love, poetry

Words Never Fail

I’ve filled the voids of my soul with

slants of words, the curvatures of

alphabets to gratify the endless

nights of effervescent

passions.

 

In the deepest abyss of malevolent

nights, I’ve implored the meanings

of your desertion through the

arches of letters.

 

The denied kisses through the

strokes of symbols, the dearth

of touch with caresses of

half-formed letters on crisp

blank papers.

 

At times I am riding on scripts

while others overwhelmed

under their weighty connotations,

you see my love words 

never fail!

 

For they can fill up empty papers,

hinge together differing

borders, like the elastic  

ropes you can stretch

them to suit bleak

realities of life.