Kisses of Now and Afore

 

Beloved, don’t think that I’m

Speaking it out of ebriation;

Heart’s depth wine can’t fathom,

Only distilled souls scent gyration

Of body, heart; and her figurine

Moving, inspiring, cajoling for conception,

Which minds never normally design.

Oh! My unfaithful lover,

Me pine for thee as afore,

When thou flooded this heart with thy shower,

Whose wavering tinkles reached this mortal’s core,

Mortal still I’m; yet immortal!

For thy love always kindles soul,

Sleep thou now amidst that bliss marital,

And slap me as only destiny’s play foul.

Thy love lightly flickers still;

Thou adorn heart’s treasure tree,

Me, but, on the verge of fall from the hill,

Still, during the fall pray I’ll for thee.

Fate may qualify me as a lover failed,

Yet in defeat lies my greatest win,

For, my sweet failure destiny hast hailed

As the success of the Lord’s grin.

My drunken selfless heart wishes

Thou all the best in thy new start!

Worry not for the ‘meant to be ashes,’

Forget the kiss last and that falling apart,–

Now, thou lick sensuously for a cause,

And me left apart

Like the whisper of an unrequited prayer;

A dry wish that makest not any noise,

Thy voluptuous smacks sound liar;–

Lying to hide someone thou loved,

Who from destiny’s path never moved.

Ode to the Spring

 

Labour is in the air around;

Spring sun fades the wheat green,

Their grainy tops; ripening and ageing;

Million crowns from the clown’s kingdom,

Prepares as he for the labour duty.

Spring, the season of fruition, procreation,–

Nature’s ejaculations for kama-mahautsava,

Now when cold father makest love to mother warm,

First cries of numerous infants chirp around;

Picturesque gift, merge as they in one:

Spring is here, mature and blown full.

 

What a great time it is;

New comers smile first; do they cry!?

Flowers wild, isolated, conceived hastily–

Nettle, clover, primrose, thistle–

Worry they not uncaring parents,

Who, too sensuous, flow blindly,

And these small daughters or sons

Scent the solitude, wilderness around,

Play they with hurrying swallow tails

And fear not moths in the dark,

Mature as if, welcome they bees.

 

More flowers than eatables around,

The season with the message:

‘Reality lies in eyes, not mouth,’

New leaves, new colours, and hopes new,

Bunchgrass, weather beaten by the cold, relive new,

Reed warbler gets sinews new,

Hangs as it among lengthy stalks,

And nature lulls them through skylark’s beak,

Seemst it if a virgin maiden

Sings, dances wildly like grassy ‘wavy hair’,

Would be mother!

Enters the conjugal threshold now.

 

What if one fade in, and the other fade out,

Colours emerging or going out care not,–

The days are just matchless,

Spring, the season balanced; the day and nights

Cool warmed, or warm cooled.

The landscape becomes a garden,

Lie where so many beauties;

Each and everything beautiful,

Need not they, thus, caring special,

Urge is just to create new,

While, spring tracks the parental escapades.

 

Now, when waters go heavens,

Except the dewy rain of nights;

Waterbodies—puddles to ponds—start slimming,

Slimming like a narrow curve around the back;

The back of springy damsel.

More are seekers now; drops becoming divine!

Thirst forces more walks over banks transitory.

Smallest grassy worlds, tiny flowers, insects

Anguish not the hierarchy above:

Spring flowering from man’s to His kingdom,

Hides as the burying beetle; passes a foot near by.

Gypsy Girl

 

Like the mystical flower, seen here then there,

The lovely wild maiden, spring laden

Showst its non-periodic rare; not to care,

Stupefied eyes gaze but settlement ridden.

 

O flowery lass, thy breeze-driven gyrations

Prop winy drops upon tongues,

Still, thou unapproachable to focussed vibrations,

Through thy escapements caravan moves, singths.

 

How can thou be so heartless!

Not to fix eye somewhere for someone,

And always fly away without bestowing a single kiss!

What a classy heart to be won!

 

Gypsy girl, thou spread beauty’s message:

Sudden full arrival, lost then in a haze.

Sister

 

O my dear sis,

Time was then all bliss,

This once home thine, now miss

All that growing, evolving care and wish

Thy sweet happy return

To the place where you were born.

 

Thou for a greater purpose gone

To nurture life in some home,

Still, thy place becomes a shrine here;

Down to dusk, work with so much care,

I can still sense thee in this air,

Circulates which orderly, like my sis fair.

 

Thy virtues sing, commit when we mistake,

Great are the homes whom sisters make.

Some Lines for Some Time in Future

 

When thy eyes begin to glow dimly

And walk form not a rhyme with the body;

Flowers when gone for a single lily

And world's eyes see not once fair lady;

When even cup loathes thy shaky pout

And time engraves its loath on thy rosy cheeks;

Eyelids drop when for vision out

And life only but leaks;

When thy grey hair die day by day

And all crests shrink to troughs;

See thou not when a single ray

And violently shake thee those coughs.

 

Then dear, pick my book up,–

Where thy youth shines immortally,

Unhampered by the time's hand rough.

Far! Far! Somebody is in Need: Let Me Soak Miseries All

 

Let my tear drop

Where there is hunger and pain

And too many a sandy grain

For a single drop of rain;

Where in eyes drained, hopes never prop,

Lord! Let my eyes give fullest crop!

For their slightest pain

Let my heart bloody drain

The terrain, where death grope.

 

Let that infant’s puzzled look,–

Due to unholy experiences first–,

Cast gloom, pain over my face

For the childhood hanged by the hook,

Let me begone of my thirst!

Hold me back from the life’s race.

One Simple, Real Beauty

 

Country girl, I salute thee for thine rusticity;

That devoid of complexity, which

Bathes thee naturally without made-up artificiality,

Thou art only thou; not try to become such.

 

Least conscious about thy greatest gift,

Thou pour smile uninhibited,

Truth about thee never shift

Beneath thin layers venerated.

 

I like thee for what thou art,

Too little thou have to show other than thou,

Thy inner self and outer never part;

False seeds thou never sow.

 

Thou represent crystal clear beauty,

Thank God for thy farness from the city!

When Time was Helpless before You

 

Thou art beauty unchanged, unmoved

Just like that waterfall always the same;

Whose persistence running water can’t tame,–

That gracious continuity which time always pursued.

 

Thy gentle breezy state maketh time nude;

Attired if not by its changing game,

And thy beauty becometh a name;–

A picture which lives; never moved.

 

I salute thy infinite instantaneous beauty,

Thou smile and live for the beauty’s sake;

A beauty that was and will remain forever,

Time’s elements will try haughty,

But it can never take

So many jewels from thy lover.

An Orphan (or half orphan) in the Night

 

O child, where thy mother hast gone?

Standth as thou in this dark night,

Tears thy go waste; succeeds only moan,

Where ist thy absolute right to sleep quiet?

 

That mother, who shines as some distant star,

I doubt that she is too far;

Too away is the smiley spark to mar

The ghosts, and encourage thy tiny soul at war.

 

O thou two unfortunate ones,

Slept when together, time was once,

Now but both awake,

Why doesn’t she take thee away and make

A little star near her for thy sake,

So that cry thou not

and motherhood drown in sorrowful lake.

Duty to the Beauty

 

These tiniest showers fall,

Just like dream sweetest call

When we lie asleep,

Beloved, thy same slender sip

Through eyes leaves me wined;

As if in heavens I dined.

 

Those pouty fishy full lips;

Divine experience smitten tips,

And me smooched over them,

Plucked, then, the sweetest gem

Out of feminine treasure house,

Oh! Greatest fire it dost douse.

 

And thou fall for me

Like the windfallen flower to see

Its beauty fully blown;

Those petals having much shone,

Now was the time

To reach the prime.

 

O my beauty, I am the means to thy end,

Thou art Godsent,

And me the beauty’s supplement;

To be used for its fulfillment,–

Black bee for the bud virgin,

Beauty’s utility then begin.

 

What a great utilitarian, beauty!

So many boulders haughty

Corrode to die a death sandy,

So that river’s curves become more trendy,

Flows which then with a pride;

Starry eyes shine, O groomed bride.

 

I’m made for thee sweetlet,

Damn sure, I can bet

To exist away from company thine,

Thou but can’t without this pine,

And some say I consumeth you,

Me thus the blamers sue.

 

O my little flower, tell

Me a single one dwell

Immortal in this world

Without crusher’s press hurled

Around the petals soft,

While the perfume cometh

As the much cherished croft.

 

I exist for thee, O my beauty,

‘Complete thou’ is my duty.

Immortal Daughter

 

Ye black clouds amidst

Dark night knowst not,

How thy smallest daughter kisst

Slightest opening in bud’s pout.

 

Flower’s cherub and thine,

And sissy, hilarious time’s twin,

Thou seest not thy rhyme,

Pass thundering, lightening wink.

 

Huge! Thou dost overcast sky;

Time also takes mountainous leaps;

And flowers stretch heavenly eye,–

Thou three infinite parents.

 

Still, three children thine,

Only through them thy worth shine.

Love Someone’s Life Flower

 

Life, how much should I love thee?

And in which form and appearance?

Is it the one inside me

Or, the heart’s praise for that flower with fragrance?

 

The flower possessed by fear,

Love it is, or owner’s craze?

While, wildlife throbbing near,

And the flower still uncaught by

Someone’s love-net’s maze.

 

Why must a flower be loved?

Is it that it appears beautiful?

Or, love it creates which moved

An inward passion from death's pull.

 

O thou flower, I love thee more than the self,

For thou art the dreamy life unpossessed.