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.

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”

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

desire mightier
feminine, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, Self-Help, woman

No Desire Is Mightier

I know not…

Was it a dream or a drowsy opiate slumber?

As I stood on a tortured sea-shore

and cast my eye on the swollen waves

passionately  kissing my naked feet

making love to me with a brutish force

taking me in its azure vinyl embrace

slowly grasping my flaming flesh with

a fiery I’ve never known before,

an uproar a stir in my fragile body

exhausted since centuries of decay

the foamy saline waters entering in me

through all nook and corners, fissures and holes

mixing in all the violent blues with the

crimson reds, crawling stealthily like million

serpents, wriggling gushing upwards

Oh! a sensation a loud roar within

a rapture somewhere, an euphoric elation

an electric jolt worth thousands bolts!

My enslaved body in an act of consummation

so strong, my heart-ached, soul-shuddered

at the violation so brutal, like a hapless bird

caught in a nib of a savage Falcon from the

far-east, I let it happen without any contest

Why? Because I possessed it too and let loose

the cinders of  ancient fire burning in me

for I didn’t surrender, and let it go on without

a single doubt or shame nor did I curse

the gods above, knowing that no desire is

mightier than the other, for yearnings

have the same frenzy everywhere.

But I know not…

Was it a dream or a drowsy opiate slumber?

Legend, life, Literature, Love, poetry

XANADU

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-

dome decree: Where Alph, the

sacred river, ran Through caverns

measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.

–Samuel Taylor Coleridge

As, I count my hours

with the endless jars’s

of poor man’s coffee,

I hallucinated about

Coleridge’s Xanadu.

May be it’s just

one meal a day or

is the opium that

Keats snorted.

As I lay bare

in grim winter

afternoon,

I see around me

a wasteland,

but I am dreaming of

Khan’s Xanadu.

photo of tiger
life, Nature, poetry

An Encounter

( A Narrative Poem based on a true encounter in the Himalayan Mountains)

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

-William Blake

As it happened one cold winter night,

I bleakly remember the air was of fright.

I trudged on a road tired and weary,

watching my steps turn heavy and dreary.





The air transformed into grim and cold,

trilling’s and chirpings came to an end.

Everything was clasped, by an eerie hold; .

A strange rustling, was it a fiend to slay?





Did I see a ghost in sight?

It pounced and perched from a shadowy bark,

as it tapped , I glanced at its speckled back;

A beastly creature, it has no match.





What are thou? I shivered at it’s types,

with speckled yellow and black stripes.

A terror took over my heart, which was beating fast.

As it fixated the gaze with ember eyes,

I knew, the ghostly spell has been cast.