Why crave that random
love, when we have
this Self-Love.
Is there not a dignity, in
claiming the love which
is ours and belongs
to us.
Tag: poem
Countdown For The Day
Morning sun shone
in its full glory.
Coffee quarrels
and stiff body.
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…
The Black Art by Anne Saxton
A woman who writes feels too much,
those trances and portents!
As if cycles and children and islands
weren’t enough; as if mourners and gossips
and vegetables were never enough.
She thinks she can warn the stars.
A writer is essentially a spy.
Dear love, I am that girl.
A man who writes knows too much,
such spells and fetiches!
As if erections and congresses and products
weren’t enough; as if machines and galleons
and wars were never enough.
With used furniture he makes a tree.
A writer is essentially a crook.
Dear love, you are that man.
Never loving ourselves,
hating even our shoes and our hats,
we love each other, precious, precious.
Our hands are light blue and gentle.
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
But when we marry,
the children leave in disgust.
There is too much food and no one left over
to eat up all the weird abundance.
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.
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.
Light
In your light, I learn how to love.
In your beauty how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest where no one sees you,
but I do, and that sight becomes
this art.
_Jalal Ud din Rumi
Miss That Girl
I miss that girl who,
would run wild, and
was always ready to
smile without breaks.
She loved without care
When the things
got tougher simply
cried her heart out.
and life would get
straight again, ideals
were lofty , heels
higher and memories
ran sharper, food
was always warm
and drinks forever
bubbling…
Now many springs
later that girl
seek reasons to
laugh, tears don’t
descend to heart’s
desire, lovers have
gone senile, running
requires plastic knee-
caps and heels are
trimmed to two inches
mark ,forgetfulness is
the way of busy life,
while food requires
a careful watch, the
bubbling drinks be
better left off…
Life might never be
straight again ….
I miss that girl!
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?
LOVE
I would do anything for love,
but I won’t pick trash,
or cook anything tonight.
GOD
I made my way to the temple,
more to set a perfect example.
I looked and turned to the left,
feeling myself quiet adept ;
entered a dirty squalor.
It was old Lucy’s, little bar,
midst neon and fluorescent greens;
I realized after the few sips,
God dwells here in the broken hearts.