already awaiting
another summer,

in great stillness,
to spread out over

the pruned grass and
mingle with the gentle

sway of the flowering
gulmohars...

Bruised,
Felt the sweat,
A ****** rose in my mouth.
Tending us to matter.

For what purpose did we exist
Other than to serve?
And we talked more,
Things that left,
Things that bothers,
Yet not things to come?

Losing in a train
A thought, few figures.
Lay it on me.

Forgot to care,
To hint the broken heart.
Forgive me
Yet embrace me
For we are held together,
To grow old together.
But my soaked crown
Kept my head inside.
Hidden my sight,
Shatter my voice.

Leave me be
In mending wounds
Renew sinews
In a creaking rock-a-bye.

Leave my head be,
Where my hat took off,
Blown off
By gust of memories,
Broken and hunched,
Laying off a chance,
To close my eyes.
To live in your heart.
To meet my maker.

I hide in solitude to show myself in plain sight.
I dream so that I can create reality.
I crumble so that I can build up.
My quivering is your peace.
My leisure is your reach.

'Twas our
tribulation nigh
Marcy, and
eminent with
her belief
over which
train stirred
her mischief
that brightened
any hour
with vaunted
views and
her most
furry lark
scape suite
here in
New York.

I so love this leisurely life,
hence the disdain for
marriage and wife

but if such calamity were
to befall and I find myself
hungry, sweaty, tired

in a dining hall, while
the guests have a ball,
let it be then, that my

pretty partner has gaol
bird thoughts, who doesn't
stand compromised, sad

imposed nonsense of
any sort, when I take
her hand, ask her if we

can flee, she wouldn't
care a hoot and simply
heed the call, I am

looking for a runaway
then, not a wife, one
who loves the trees,

breeze, road bends,
adventures, loves to
take solitary walks and

may be meet her husband
sometimes, just because
she feels the need, I am

not looking at all, for a
society-accepting, drab,
tradition-obeying being,

I am not looking for a
wife, after all, because I
so love this leisurely life

we could be lovers instead

here's to
streams travels wheel trees

here's to
kettle fumes dunes blues

here's to
hammocks ruffled hair loose clothes

here's to the free ebb

The ship(notified) lost
leisurely drifts over waves
westwards, "Unhurried hereafter"
is the slogan written on it's mast
it would seem to an onlooker.
A net is cast wide,
to catch as much fish
as the tired crew now needs.
Each furious wave
that rushes towards the ship
changes tack, proclaims
a frothy message of peace.
No more communication exchanges
causing disturbances, no hurry any more.
None waits for the lost ship,
in any distant shore, with a binocular,
or spanning a Radar, uneasily .
The crew had already forgotten
every mission undertaken before.
It has no schedule, deadlines, plan
the ship feels more buyout than ever before
,just floats along, as if it's a tranquil thought,
towards the direction where
the purple sun prepares to set dramatically.
Accompanied by two astonished whales,
sailing along like two mates, the ship,
now a lone wolf,with a hidden yearning
has become more alive, once declared lost.