A tailor bird, though busy wanted to stitch the best
of clothes for me to wear , in a fair, getting nearer,
so thankful, I was, though it'd hardly fit a man
of my size, I bow my head, overwhelming is her love!

The swift, I always admire for her speed, promises
to take me for an arial tour, 100 km an hour, no less
all 148gm, of love is she !though I appreciate that,hardy can
I fly with this tiny parcel of energy, many a kin whose love
again is hard to reciprocate, unless I realize we all are one.

The dark purity of the night, I lustily sought,
to juxtapose it with the exhilaration filling in me
seeing her lush,**** body's eager anticipation.

Each cell comes alive, in her libidinous embrace,
Her erogenous silken touches,blends with the satin sheen
of sheer black cover darkness unfurls one end to the other,
the  dreamy lighted spots, embellish the nightscape's  opulence.
Night, anointed us with the fluence of love, when our supple bodies,
entangled in the bed till we drunk slept, blissfully lost the world.

Fierce faced warlord's
frantic antics were mere ploys
to hide from the world
his real face; the most
frightened was he, of the lot.

intruding light
has corrupted
black night's
real character.

Never did I think
the little prankster pup
newly entered  in my life,
could express so quick
in a tongue not his;
ebulliently thankful,
he runs towards me
and yells  "PA PA"
every time I get near.

Quite enticing, plush
she is a spectacle,
all the same lacking
substance and depth.
A coffee table book
everyone who is
someone, curiously grab,
turn the pages in a jiffy,
just to feel the gloss
eye the seductive shine
ogle the ostentation,
and caress the pictures
in opulent colors,
then, let go quick
without any qualms.

Throw it back on the table
with a resounding thud
in no time and leave
without even looking back once!

Every dainty dish of love
she rapturously serve him
has an unmistakable  distinct flavor!
He repeatedly wonder, often aloud,
that what would be the magic she applies,
in her smashing haute cuisine ensemble.
When,
it's love, like butter, pure and dense
in large dollops,with it's flavor invariable,
is the one constant major ingredient,
in every which dish she  cooks;
for all his questions, persistent and curious,
her answer would be just a smile mysterious.
In their love life enviable,  this one thing
still remains the million dollar question!

The sensual glee, that translates as conjugal poetry
gently speaks about the pair's  easy, perfect chemistry.
Intimate moments exude a rare sense of aesthetics,
pointing to an alchemy they could easily spark
by their sultry proximity;  minds and bodies, move  
in resonance, and the waves of exhilaration brim and flow.

Prelude
"Let's go" his soft whisper
the mantra, in his voice she hears

the esoteric voyage through
the cryptic high seas of self,
fathomless, unmapped,
uncharted and reachable
only by the most fearless
ready to unbind and make
the self free for it's adventure,
begins thus for the peaceful pair
complementing the absolute
for a life time, til they reach there
and find themselves one with
                      pure consciousness.

"Let's let's, but only together"
she chants in unison,with him.

1.
Bidding good bye to ego, clad in red and black
a beast, not easy to bring to it's  knees, submit,
the high horse proud,raring to go,having  sharp horns
sticking out, fierce, that goes berserk,on seeing white.
Altogether a curious construct, that dictates terms-
they set about, invoking the blessing of the flame of light.
2
They stood together,  eyes widely shut, bringing
both palms together,in front of their  chests
creating a lotus bud, symbolizing hearts,bowing
each other in "Namaste",-bows the divinity in thyself-
chanting the mantras of peace, thrice, each time, repeatedly.
3
"Lets go back to the begining of every begining.."
the primordial hum, transcending quagmires of time
in the path of our ancestors,who did see the" unseeable",
without eyes, knew the "unknowable",diving in to the
ocean depth of self,going inwards chanting"Neti, Neti"
Not this, Not this, inquiring each till the essence did reveal.
4
They did this, focusing the eye of the mind, on the eye
beyond all, that watches every small thing in universe.
Mind, sharpened like the blade of a sword,efficient to cut
the Gordian knots,of paradox, duality and illusion,
encountering the silence that thickens at last, speaks
the words of wisdom,patient they are, to know the ultimate,
right there at the source of light that is the true essence of all,
5
Celebrate the pure consciousness, that pervades in every thing,
the thought that begets all thoughts,that  moves on to be karma,
that becomes purer, through the cycles of lives, one after another.
"Let's be humble, utmost, sans the ornamental clothes of pride.
May the thought reigning cosmos, the spirit of peace,chanted aloud,
take us to it's sanctum sanctorum and melt us in to it's divine embrace.
Only one there is, all are it's integrals,the divine cosmic hum 'Aum'
that enliven the universe within each cell, remember , is eternal"
                                                #@@#

It's not the rain
that makes her
wet this time, again
conveying it
to him without
any dillydallying,
revealing her
intentions in
such plain terms
with a sign
language
invented, all
by herself,
leaves the mark
of the genius on this
woman, deeply
in love and lusting
her man,plain and simple.
***, robust uppermost
in the mind.prompts
yes, bold she is,
she takes things
in her hands at times.

She needs to stamp
her nature
unequivocally,
and she does it in style.

Your luscious lips fervently seek mine and the time freezes,
the cosmic hum, the primordial love anthem is heard within us,

Your signature scent, perilously plays fiddle with my olfactory nerves,
a garden of love within me blooms, hear the sonorous drone of bees !

A web of silver threads from your eyes, makes me your captive,
stitches the insignia of our love in my heart with the touch of a feather.

On the back of my neck, your broken breath permeates ****** heat,
the hold around my waist,tells what your words couldn't spell out.

He lets his cat
out of the bag
smiling, in silence.
She pets it's
soft coat repeatedly.
It purrs in delight
and lets her know
it wants more.
All she has to do now
is to see it drink milk
til she too is pleased.

He shuts his eyes wide
and waits, following
keenly her every step.

The world as we know it
doesn't exist, from an evening days ago,
unruly fog with the menacing arrogance
of a killer whale, skimming
in the shallow waters near the shore,
has made the world vanish
without any trace, how long it would last,
no one could hazard a guess, till now!
"Is it the end of the world?"
within closed doors people wonder.
1 But no 'bang' of any kind was heard
did anyone hear any suspicious 'whimper',
the weather women with a broad smile
and reassuring voice  fails to tell us.

In this stormy night of primeval elements,
what exists for us is a continent of fear.
Shiver touching the highest recorded mark
in the Richter scale of fear, staring at a
dark night , bundled in white blanket,
all thing moving and static are kept  frozen.
Blizzard, a drunken madman keeps on
inventing a cuss word different, a minute
hissing it in varying tunes and modulations.

I hear no drone of airplanes flying low
to take the landing approach
in the airport nearby, anymore
everything except the storm and snowfall
has come to a standstill,what the morning
will bring, who could tell?
Every heart will be heavy tonight,
if only 2 Stephen Hawking will lift
his cell phone for a minute,
this is the time to ask in hush hush tone:
"Does such unprecedented signals
points that God would play dice
negating the prophecy Einstein made"

Comes winter, walking on cat's paws
with the promises of a time different, again
Hail the **** ingeniousness of this cheat,
who arrives with a new guile year after year.

yet again I fall in to that ***** trap
winter cleverly sets for me with
her sweet nothings, falling ice flakes
and her characteristic ****** white attire,
I am seduced by her ****** virginal frolic,
snow soft murmurs that lengthen nights
hear her  orchestra distinct plays without fail,

From my neurons the winters past are  erased,
deeply in amour I am with her,my marrow tingles,
how do I still get entangled all over again,
in a dilemma, programmed to recur every year?

Each time this happens I'd say to myself:
"This is the last and final time this love happens
this cold uncaring cruel maiden's embrace!"
winter, beloved tantalizer,who loves to freeze me
and extract the last drop of love from me before she leaves.

Winter, I now understand,I too love your desires
that torment me all through your stay here, every year,
In your white, gilded resort,you keep me as a prisoner
where I am no different from others,in clinical white cloaks.

When she saunters
in a two piece bikini,
without making
any  pug marks
even on soft sand,
"Which one color
adds more firepower
to her allure
enhanced figure?"
is a question
never heard aloud,
all the same,there
hovers in the thick air,
quite tangibly.
Even with all the intimate
knowledge on her at hand,
it is still too difficult
to suggest, as she moves
with the deadly confidence
of a sleek armored car,
every one that appears on
the line of fire along
the  180 degree curve
sure would go down,
that's a daily occurrence.

But if on a  bikini in white
she would be seen on the beach
absolutely mysterious she looks
the decision on this is unanimous!
how does one  know this?
     -a stunned silence every time
       happens is the clinching proof.

A letter of intent, so clear, addressing me
written in exquisite feminine form,
in the script of love, her eyes encrypted;
only I'll be entitled to read it, none else,
and undertake the next delicate move.
It comes gliding towards me, isn't it magic?

Nothing unexpected this , in fact two pair of eyes
for a cool one week,did negotiations in intense silence
pregnant with desire, culminating in love,
                                                           ­         the scent of love
elates, it's in the morning air, binds us together, wafts!
Yes, you are the wild flower, the honeybee is here.

The torture chamber painted
thick with red, white and black
fully contains artifacts different
unimaginable kind each one is.

Pain indeed was the tap root
from which art sprouts, says the poet
all the secrets of the heart, hidden deep
for which a heavy price is paid
throughout life, sing and dance
spin a fine yarn, tell an unforgettable tale

An egregious, chained beast
lurks within the demure beauty,
something dark he reared within
perhaps a savage, recalcitrant,
quite ill at ease in the presence of her pet
wakes it up, viciously poses challenge,
beauty sedated, mute, closes eyes,at such times,
falls in to a fitful hibernation,
    allowing  both the brutes, to slug it out
till one of the two is overpowered
and roar of the other, the victorious is heard.

You are an artifact, chiseled alabaster,
       I am just molded plaster of Paris,
You remain rich shiny white,
      irrespective of seasonal changes,
I need frequent  involvement of hands
      that know their craft well,
to be seen as an object of art, that barely survives,
    but still brittle, would easily turn to dust.
Men and women are different, inside out
    I was told, I see it myself now and delighted!
Over and over again I ask you to be aware of
      the limitations that tie me down and forgive
but you won't accept, go on with your life quietly
       caring so much to keep my sinking heart buoyant.

A cloud of passion from above, signaled to him
to kiss her  burning lips, that look like lightening ,
blindly in love with the ever evasive ethereal swirl,
waiting to be on a date with her desperately for long,
he did it quick; a powerful surge  never felt before
radiated  through him, at  that impromptu moment,
he flew up and dissolved in a flash. without a trace.

Power and military acumen to the mighty king
were  the true weapons of conquest in his possession,
til the time marauding made him squirm with pleasure
went on his trail of terror, destruction and subjugation.
Many wars won;no bloodbath to this iron willed one
ever seemed different from any other, victory was routine

then came a rare moment of pause, a sudden bend
in the path of a roaring river,initiating change.

"It's time to put down this blood splattered crown
envy of others, but  weighing me heavily down"
Frenzied, in no time he removed the thorny crown
and every bit that embellished him from head to toe
in naked glory he stood before the mirror, but why
couldn't he look for a long moment in his own eyes?

"All I see is an architecture of muscles, nerves and blood
on a skeletal frame, no different it is from any other
just lingering  further, all one can see is  dead matter waiting
to dissipate in to elements, when the time rings bell"
(words of his Guru, long long forgotten, came alive)
"The bird is  bound to this cage,with elements for a time
in a flash, it would pass,where then is the bird's true abode?"

All the wars won, achieved only the creation of cycles of pain
countries taken over by brute force,women taken as trophy,
loads of gold, diamonds and riches; just footnotes of an epitaph

"To search and find what really matters, that transcends time"
was the famous last words, before the conqueror's renunciation.

These canaries go on chattering without an end
in their yellowish green language,isn't it queer?
Ambivalent I remain, are they at loggerheads with one another?
noisy canaries, aren't they a bother
                                                      why can't they sit quiet,
and listen to the silence?
But  the canaries are a spirited lot,seems to create a world they like.
what they say is unintelligible, should I listen to them?

A bit, I did, then it acts on me in more ways I than can imagine.
One can sit eyes shut as long as one wish,
                                                          t­heir tweets are sweet after all.
The canaries have a musical gift and a language of their own
they incessantly chant, it takes time to discern it's essence,I find.

There is an expert in canary speak; what's his name?
Yes, Brian, should I get his help to get it explained?
my thoughts turn more focus on the mysteries of canaries.

"Listening to them did a lot of good to you"says my girl.
The doctor is very supportive to the cause of canaries.
"There is wonder in the results of your blood works" he tells.
"The canaries are braking new grounds in my life" I realize
"My blood pressure is down without any medicine",  cool.

I begin to realize what Canary symbolism means,
they led me to a life style never did I dream before
as if by some magic, now I perfectly understand their language
she tells me how quick I am in picking  emotions nowadays!

would you believe this , the canaries are my Gurus nature gifted,
teaching me living, loving and flying away without making noise.

This astonishingly smart work
by an enterprising bunch
of greedy caterpillars on this tree,
symbolizes sweet success itself
(only to them, not for others
I'll have to grudgingly accept)

Look how they devour with a vengeance,
every bit of the gentle greatness, one felt
in presence of the exhilarating fine green crown,
of the lovely tree that stood head held high,
smiling  in scorching sun, storm and rain,
and made me stand awe struck,
for a while the first time I passed
through the path under her thick canopy.

Success has avariciously eaten up glory
a fine creation of many seasons,
without any concern for those
who die for greatness, nothing else!

All that remains to see is this:
whether fragile winged butterflies,
charm personified in vivid colors,
would come out,of this greed?
Though they being a creatures of transience
makes it a bad bad bargain.

After dark, energies flow in manners that pleases them most
braided together in lust, two king cobras were seen spiraling up
when darkness like a camouflage sets in thickly around,you're
the  marijuana of my mind, seeking far horizons of pleasure.
I willingly seek oblivion, when pink pointed goosebumps
like tarantula's love bites, results of mating time cruelty
infest all over my body's landscape, signatures of ecstasy.

I feel your lips become, moist, soft, honey from each drips
never enough,for me, is it possible to get inebriated more?
Your sighs and moans speak the vocabulary of a forgotten
ancient language love hurriedly resurrected for us from past,
brevity is the crux of that lingo of erupting jets of desire,
it teaches you to moan in fifty different tones in all;even more?

Your sharpened nails etch cave murals on my itching back
that has the searing taste of blood, in hot hot chilly red.
my taste buds of lust, begs for more and more of it.
You are the marijuana fueling my narcotic flights that land
in your misty land, enveloping my senses as a whole.
"The night is still young, hear what the darkness whispers"
I hear you speak like an oracle, on things about to happen.

I ventured deep in to the mysteries of mother forest alone,
when I was free from fears of every kind and sweet delusions,
ancient trees recognized me instantly, from some other life past,
and sung me songs when I sat exhausted,their fruits tasted sweet
made me realize how aftermath of every karma returns to one
at a time unexpected; fruits either sweet or bitter they bring.

Under the shades, of trees,hearing the  lullabies they sung
I slept forgetting the wars won or lost in the past, immaterial
all that now seemed
                                Those trees in their love reminded my mother.
I didn't care when I lost the path,in fact, is there a path in the forest?
All paths lead to one destination, there isn't any other,nothing to worry.

Forest with her thousand hands embraced me and said:
"Every king one day, has to take his heavy crown from his head
put down and walk this path wearing dress made of leaves"

There weren't any footsteps fallowing me here, I didn't expect any.

From the green hill, blows downwards
a wind, gently titillating the languid trees
of this dense forest,the rustling of the leaves create,
an impromptu tune, proving they are taut strings,
yielding willingly to the sensual fingers of the wind.

Super moon,while raising, listens keenly awhile
as if she had never heard one like this before.
The wise silver owl, sitting on the high branch
keeping account  of every stroke of night,with an imaginary wand,
as the conductor, catches the emerging mood that seethes
within the million pieces of orchestra that gently merge,
get exhilarated, finds a pause to punctuate it with a timely hoot,
the moment freezes, falls in to the repository of time for keeps.

I enjoy, the subtle shades, connotation of each word,
probe, how dexterously they are put together in an order
like jewels in an ornament for generations to wear.
The way the construct speaks to the brooding solitude
that moves in and out of my soul,as the reading proceeds.

I smell a fragrance, like the scent of fresh ripe fruit,
eager to taste it, sink my teeth deep, draw juice,
now find a memory awaiting to resonate with the
cadence of my heart.
                                                 I am such an animal
that can smell poetry's worth from a distance,
a goldsmith who could  predict it's weight in gold
my avarice for a poetic diet, never dies, only swells.

Every poem of my kind, to me does something
my lover does, decidedly every imagery, carry forward
a memory, like wind a cloud, reaches a space beyond
touches eternity with it's magic wand,  a flash results
Even if the poet leaves me mid way, I'd still see the light.

I've an enticing excuse to imagine what I want to see
a poem doesn't produce anything,but what it does to mind,
is pure magic,I am in that flow,far from the illusory reality.

There in the air, it hung, muted yet palpable,
like the  inebriating scent of new rain on earth
with this signal morning alluded something,
as if challenging anyone there to swiftly respond.

Gazing at the far away mountains, waking up,
pulling away slowly the blanket of darkness
a purple sun above making a symphony of colors
she is caught in the waves of the mood, it's cadence
captures the spirit in a poem; it blooms on it's own.

Zestfully she reads it in her resounding voice,as if
to the chickens clucking around in the cluttered barn
there wasn't any audience other than the birds and the cattle;
a sudden change the chickens,strange, till the moment before
they were looking for a worm or two in the black earth.

As if forgotten all other things the chicken stood
their head held high, beaks open as if to peck
in an attentive posture, they stood listening to her,
the moment they got the tune right,started reciting it.

The cows in the shed  turned to the direction of her voice,
as if it's a song, and it's for them she was singing .

Quiet night it is, as if it still
keeps the mystery in it's womb,
under the starlit sky we relive
the divine happening yet again.

Some, yes never miss the crux,
the truth of the story told in light;
but the fact remains that most of us
are only obsessed with the light.

So the stars hung high up shed
light in many hues different,
we just repeat the customs of yore
or add some more, feel contented.

The effect now is just ritualistic,
where does the mind hide?
allowing rampant darkens rule
making one another fight , it's sad.

A silver star is again born
in a far corner of the blue sky
and sheds it's light on all,we see
sky of our mind keeps on shining.

Do we remember to imbibe,the spirit?
of the rays of the cleansing star
are we aware that there is no
shadow to the star's light.

Hear this beloved river, in halcyon days
I was loyal to this majestic tree, I am attached,
to the sun I often spoke how loving
the tree is to me, and how eager I too am
to transfer sun's boons to my object of adoration.

Each season did visit us, with a  message
different, and I gathered this with joy:
The tree is a book of nature for all to read
and get exhilarated by the poems colorful
that speak in metaphors the tree invent
with water from  it's heart and sun's fire
working the magic only a tree is capable of
to show us as  flowers, fruits or  seeds that, attract
satiate, drive to the pinnacle of aesthetic delight
at times  create forests of future,with a vision too.

I am just a word, with a limited meaning I hold,
in the book of the tree ,that contains millions like me
my unconditional love to the tree is my fulfillment,
in return he loves every word that make his poem complete.

We were in love all through the time I was green,
the day I wore  yellow, got crinkled at the ends,I began
to think of you, river, with a devotion unknown until then,
though you a silver ribbon, was in my eye view , singing a song
of mirth flowing towards the unknown, imagined in our dreams

Our lives, at turns take directions that are not known
the tree once all I have is now from my world detached
flying down from the branch now a freedom I enjoy
receive me on your bellowing bed of water, comfortable
Let's flow together to the beloved destination,you've in mind.

In every human
in the caves within
sharing the space,
wearing darkness
or light as dress
live two tenets*
holding(more or less)
joint tenancy rights
named Inhuman
and Divine

Now a question
to ponder at leisure
Have you ever noticed
one or the other,
moving in or out?

When my soul thirsts for subtle beauty,
a treasured 'poem of plenty' I drink in solitude,
quintessence of all, to my palate, it tastes;
ineffable majesty of the cosmos in my cup!


സൌന്ദര്യപാനം, ആത്മദാഹശമനം

ഉദാത്ത സൌന്ദര്യാനുഭൂതി
കൊതിച്ചെന്മനം ദാഹിക്കവേ,
ഏകനായ്, പ്രിയതരമാമൊരു
"ബഹുസ്വരകവിത"പാനംചെയ് വേന്‍
എന്‍ രസനയിലതു സകല
സൌന്ദര്യച്ചാറായ് മാധുരിപ്പൂ;
വാക്കിതിലടങ്ങാ പ്രപഞ്ച
ഗാംഭീര്യമെന്‍ മധുപാത്രത്തില്‍ !
(Malayalam language version)

Ears I don't need to hear the music you are.
I don't have to sing along to be one with thy song
You are the tune, my words fit in, meaning falls in place,
The voice rises and falls,the  journey of my music thus begins.

You are the river of nectar, that never ceases to nourish my shores.
That doesn't need any space or time to flow through; it never ends.
A drop of it's ebullience, I am catapulted from the flow of your wave.
I roam, searching for you, to return and immerse  in your fathomlessness.

Our frequent  encounters
day after day after day
I and you would pretend
happen by mere chance.

But love lives in the sixth sense, we realize
it keeps our antennae up, even when apart
we act as if we are oblivious of that one fact.
it's this guile, that makes our love so special

A mysterious connect with
the movements of each other
like never missing the poetry of
lascivious flourish of your body
intended for me as an aphrodisiac,
yet again letting  my tender heart
to get hit by your eager beetle eyes
that'd follow me everywhere I turn
decided not to miss anyone of my desires.
I too am agile, an avid capturer
of motions of your body, mind and
effusive spirit that attach with mine
in every which way it could; I keep it alive.

When she opens the door partly
without any noise heard,outside
to let him in and close it again
the lovelorn moon gets jealous
a still cloud transforms in to an
eager ******, shameless and stares.

The smell of danger present in the air
heighten the thrill of them not being
just another regular pair of lovers
who could  easily meet,when they wish.
Such secretiveness adds a spicy flavour
to their forbidden love that stealthily moves,
to deceive the spying eyes everywhere.

When she opens the door to let him out,
a snow owl, startled, wakes up and hoot,
His way of saying,"Some things happen"
the moon, off color and tired of waiting,
let's out a sigh, like a breeze and acts coy.

The sheep were  in the pen, sheltered for the night
we then sat around the log fire to chat till we fall asleep,
under the open sky ,in a clearing on a wintry night.

Contrary to  what I gathered, he was full of life,
there weren't  any lines of worry, nor his face woebegone.
The heardsman looked cheery, humming tunes he loved aloud
which the pesky mountain wind, snatched and spread too soon.

I quiz  him about his treks to find pastures for the herd,
"Isn't it a task tiring , in the rough mountain terrain?"

"It's not me who leads the hungry herd to the pastures" he says
"As it is made the world to believe by those never had seen a pasture
The sheep know where the grass in green, and find the shortest path,
as pleasing them is my only wish , I dutifully follow their lead."

Elena receives a secret message from God
"Keep quiet and listen to Bach, kid"it said
She was so cross with God at first,naturally,
"The old man is cold, I won't listen to his
new commandment" she averred
as she wanted to annoy Almighty as much
as, a retaliatory measure.She felt good,
pleased, she fell silent for a long, long while.

Quickly she realized she obeyed His word
and by that time her ranting and raving
had fully come to an end.
                                             "Oh! my God!"
in astonishment she thanked God,
for making her feel better though she was
thoughtless and horribly blasphemous.

"What a crafty old geezer God is"she grinned.
yes,her defiance was intentional,but it was
as God willed,how intelligent His designs are!
"Oh! Bach! she remembered his words
she ran to fetch a record.Hey presto! it's there
right at the top of the heap, as God willed, of course,

while 'Christmas Oratorio' of Bach sweeps her off her feet,
Elena feels elated, as if the hands of devine, embrace her tight.

1.The Serpent

Pensive, she lies alone on her soft feather bed expectant.
Her eyes widely shut, imagining moments wildly exciting.
Serpentine desire contained in the burrow of her mind,
Sneaks out, slithers, snugly coils around her dainty waist.

2.Fact finder's predicament

The fact finding committee at last,
met in silence, in all seriousness,
But each member was found
taking a walk, in  a direction different.
Each one's sweet whim, clearly
did reflect in the facts they unearthed.
Reaching a point of convergence,
therefore was not something expected.

From my perch,spanning the vast,
fathomless sky at night,
where 100 billion galaxies
vie with one another, for foothold,
shoals of fish on the swim
in diverse forms of being
( or nothingness of various kind)
in cycles  of birth from dust,
growth, death in dark holes and rebirth.

I now see only  a lone star above,
cowering at a far corner, in silence
anxiety ridden  as she's alone
in this celestial grand opera house.

Wonder, where had gone all,
the spectacular display of star power,
profligacy of fish of  ocean above
proudly displaying just yesterday.

Lessons, on equanimity perhaps,
nature teaches,writing on the night sky.

The brilliance of stupidity,
the civil society is stunned to see
on what media is all agog,
in these, even otherwise ,volatile days
of  vote bank skullduggery,
is an ill begotten progeny
of skewed intelligence gone
on an  unprotected vacation to Paris
(quite recently, when the city
was in disarray) resulting in
spending a long weekend of sin
with vapidity as the preferred
regular escort and nocturnal companion.

The wound
though old
and hence
looked closed,

the pain
it caused
was quite
obtrusive,
even after
all those
years, were
somehow
left behind,
oblivious of
the misery
it created.

Couldn't leave
it like that,
insistent pain
made to decide at last,
when it was
opened again
memories
sprayed out
copiously, like
dark, coagulated blood,
never before seen.
Then, fresh blood
started to ooze
as if reluctant
to close the wound,
unable to forget
emotions that are
made to sleep
anesthetized.

Like a flower
a thorn too
is a  wish
that has a
point to make,
it stubbornly
sticks out
awaiting it's
chance to *****.

Her long manicured fingernails were deeply painted  red,
one would think  it was just a little ago ,had they let much blood.
Her dark painted eyes lend the uncanny look of a wily spider,
but her wild, heart he felt, beats passionately against his chest.
Visibly intoxicated, she said his 'words taste like mellow wine'!
Like in a duel, she was crystal gazing what would eventually happen

Would the wizard have his way,win over the spider woman?
Or is it the spider woman who'd finish her prey,after mating as usual?
"In the labyrinth we are," he calmly poured the heady wine yet again,
"We live once, there isn't any way out,let's enjoy this bargain
who enticed and brought us face to face is nowhere to be seen
Don't bother, play the game, forget the goblet of poison, then it's fine"

ONE shadow ruefully told the other ,
it has fallen in love with,
defying the logic the shadows
are supposed to follow,
not to be deceived by darkness
or light,that creates what one perceives.

"How long we've been marking time
trying in vein,to break loose from the
patronizing glare of lights, that kept
us slaves of it's love.Good riddance!"

Two bright bulbs, utterly tired, of burning
so long,which made it possible for the shadows
day dream,slowly shut their eyes in weariness,
oblivious of the wild talk of the shadows
that reflected a perfect vision of fallacy,

No one any more would see, even a penumbra
of either of the shadows,in that darkened heaven.

From one corner of my eye,
iridescent sparks of love
involuntarily fly,
ignite the dormant suns,
yearning for a dawn,
within your lovely eyes;
overwhelmed by joy, they
light up my inner skies.

Either by the curl of your lips,
that suggests a perfect fit
with mine, keep  waiting,
or with the sensual swing
of your curved alabaster hips,
that display gay abandon,
you set flames to fireworks,
that in my veins create tides
and set fire to my *****,
that won't easily be quelled for a
while: till that time we both decide.

A colourful butterfly,
male of the species,
utterly romantic,
in his pattern of behaviour,
says it all simply
by the  his style of flight.
It is a kind of skiing
up in the air, as if on ice,
He practises it,  to tail her,
a duty he quite earnestly
took upon himself.

She is visibly pleased about
all the attention she commands,
revealed by  his spectacular aerobatics
her every response, tells it.

With his jittery moves,
he gives her good cover
from other pesky suitors,
with loud painted wings.

By flitting right to left
and then the reverse
he smears colors on her wings
his inadvertent gift, of love,
in the process of the courting ritual.

With his passion, he anoints her,
with all the fervour he could muster,
you'd see him tremble,
with uncontrollable delight.
as he defies the rules of the wind,
hovers over her as if she is vanquished,

Only she,sees it with a pair of different eyes:
"Love makes us both victorious,in this game"