Consecrate me in your madness
    sanctify this communion,
sketch me in bursting metaphorical hues,
  color'd tinges blushed of cardinal's soft sonnets
paint a picture within inky filigreed lace,
  finely woven silken thread'd tapestries
my religion breathes your affinity
      harmony's rapport of favored essence
twist poetry into my hair,   whilst
   dancing upon the music in your stanza's hymn
bathe me in peachy champagne bubbled prose
  suffuse butterfly shivers up my spine
i breathe the air you've fervidly script'd
   etch'd in blood flow awakens my senses,
the emotions artistes' bleed out
   you are my strength, my power
          my weakness, my Achilles heel ~


swooning in the phases of your darkly lit moons
           cut me deep into the heart & gut
piercing movement of echoes unfold.  
        moving majestic amethyst  mountains,
shred my soul with your dragon's breath
     anoint my *******, oils that seep from thy quill
            make me punch drunk aberration's tipsy
        drenching me in sparkling scarlet wine
clinging from the vines of destiny's path
           my soul's existence is solely dependent
    upon your utterly blissful verses within Elysian Fields

From gone by years remembered in tears a tale more sweet than sad
Of a stealthy game that brought no shame played by a son with his dad
It's still a secret not told to this date he keeps to his breast the son
Still haunts his thought if he was caught by his dad long since gone.

The dad was old had a heart of gold used to spend money his own
Deemed it fair as long as there wouldn't be a burden on his son
He lived on pension but felt no tension in his frequent buying spree
Got whatever caught his whim’s fancy gifted them to the family.

We don't need as such why spend so much the son would remonstrate
Your extravagance has spoiled all chance for any savings till date
At this age on life's last page I need to spend the last dime
Live in rapport with warmth of comfort till I exhaust my time.

When failed all logic performed one trick the son played out a farce
Many times not once whenever got chance secretly filled up dad's purse
The old man went on to buy for his son ignoring his advice of thrift
The son on his part did what said his heart boosted the old one's spirit.

It was summer was time to go home, the dad took leave of his son
For all the nine months he stayed in the hills lived a monk’s life alone
A few days later over a phone call the dad spoke son when I count
I find in my purse what I carried intact in fact a little more amount.

The son feigned surprise deemed it wise the truth not be told
Lest he came apart his pride felt hurt the man with the heart of gold
He said in humor’s voice it’s cause for rejoice that money spent is grown
To this day the son guards the truth alone never making what happened be known.

If you have to go to the beach
Where the blue bends down to the sea
The eyes far the waves outreach
Salt sprays gurgle in glee,

Find the time to take a ride
Miles down the city’s edge
Over the greens of countryside
Past huts with thicket’s hedge!

When you pass the winding stream
See winds on the bloated sail
Hear boatman’s tune of forlorn dream
Catch a village belle with her pail,

Find the time to stop a while
Watch the sun shine her grace
Forget travails of the bumpy miles
Smell the dew on her labored face!

If the white clouds sail the sky
Bewitch you the rustic way
Break your path make a valiant try
Seize that moment of the passing day,

See in her eyes the river’s tale
In her hair the flower’s bloom
Feel in her breath love’s rapturous gale
Her desire’s rainbow plume!

Rue not the time lost on the way
For you paused for the boatman’s song
Viewed her frame molded in clay
As the river brought her along,

Regret not if you are late for the beach
Where the blue bends down to the sea
Think of the chance that brought to your reach
A glimpse of eternity!