Like the Green Manalishi

Your eyes drag me
to the depths of an unnamed fear.
In the darkest hour of the coldest night
silently, as they draw near.

The agony of being cornered
has muted my trembling throat,
as you advance on me,
stripped down to stark naked soul.

Shutting my eyelids is
all the escape I could muster,
as my heart skips
its final beat.
And I feel your
eight pronged fingers
crawling up my flesh,
caressing me with cold deceit.

And all I can hear is your whisper
muffled into an afflicting moan,
summoning me to the desolate north
to make love at the love’s tombstone.

…

Privy to the miles

Sing your heart
and mine will play along
and this night shall freeze
between our eyes.

Let go the undone
and fill this moment
with our
rendezvous reprise

The melody of souls
would surf the breeze
under the moonbeams
from heaven

As, in the guise of
moonlit smiles shall flip
two worlds and
a piece of mind

Crossing many miles
with the speed of light
those eyes see
right through a soul

and dare not brim them
and please forgive them
for they are as yours
as mine.

…

Maiden Flight in a Lazy Afternoon

Paper clouds in the autumn sky

hang still in self denial.

Colour pencil dragon

on my little desk by the window

gazes out  for some paper shower,

 

as the haughty wind rides into town,

lifting skirts, tangling hair.

And brings with him

merry vacationers to my lawn;

withered leaves, twigs and paper flowers.

 

Driven by a tranquil trust, I sit,

cutting and folding into shapely plume;

scribbled, hashed papers,

lined with blanks

for my maiden flight in this rusty afternoon.

…

In Captivity

Rooftop dreams have shiny edges

they dance with the wind and fly.

Fugitive dreams, they love their life

as I think I love mine.

Though I am forever

like the wise feathers, left on streets,

parked cars and grassy fields;

Like the naive pebble

never thrown too high

and the raindrops rushing down,

in captivity of gravity.

 

Wouldn’t mind the cats

having the leftover lies.

The chilled pint is what

my mind is really pinned to.

Little golden bubbles naked

rising up and huddling to the froth.

They share the revelation of absolute anarchy.

For they have discovered the

The mystic science

of getting away with jeering at

the captivity of gravity.

…