Cycles of a different kind

Looking through the rosy pane
winter's frenzy seems insane

Spring did come and leave behind
offspring of a different kind

Slivers of hopeful sunrise
slash through her utter surprise

Love in summer, in strange lands,
estrange her from uncaring hands

What did seem a pleasant beginning
was just the end of their annual parting

42. The Map of Lost Desires

Lust is the map of our unfilled desires.
Past love: the collective altar of unstoked fires.

Each maiden a pithy offering
to the burning loin’s pyre.
Stepping stones on the path
through a deeper quagmire.

Each night bears her wicked treats:
Mammon’s stench stokes her fervent pleas.
A still-lingering touch sets those senses alight.
As our twisting flames quench alien delights.

As darkness turns us to searing naked ore,
Into our bronzed casts, flows molten pleasure.
Wicked nights transmute to unwelcome dawns,
As heathen bodies celebrate a parabolic pause.

Love’s twilight rages in these scattered streams:
Tangled webs beneath those subterranean sheets.
As we stare into tunnelled sunbeams,
Amber flames meld her silver-lined dreams.

Lust is the map of our unfilled desires.
Past love: the collective altar of unstoked fires.
Love is the map of our spent desires.
Pure lust: the collective path of raging fires.

41. Cupid's Patient

Scabbed is your soul,
Cupid plays a larger-than-love role.
Nothing worse than spent fire.

All hurt is mostly dementia.
Distant memories, tinted in sepia.

Brimming with forlorn desires;
The heart, a little scarred tissue
Rent asunder by Shakespeare.

Love is only a few tears;
It’s loneliness that we truly fear.

Note: Posted on the Caferati board on Feb 21, 2005 in humble response to a wonderful piece by Inkie that she called "The Patient".

40. Helen

I hate you, harsh Helen,
For dark longing and disdain,
and the time spent as one.
All of it in vain!

Did you give in, my maiden,
to the gleaming armor
or his knightly sheen?
Books bought in cheap haste
are dealt a sorry fate...

How hard is it, sweet Helen?
To revel in a heart’s winter;
this—walking with a dagger
thrust through the soul’s desire.

Love pines for somber passions,
Soul cloaked in amorous rigor.
Love only lasts for strangers
who met when the night was younger.

Love is just naked passion;
blind beyond mere reason,
clear as a stillborn winter.
Silent as the beggar's prayer.

Did you feign, mio amore?
For filthy sinful pleasure,
Dear as an orphan’s dollar.
Your icicle eyes scream,
Blind, as the lover's dream.

For the longing and this sweet pain;
and the time we spent in vain.
For that alone,
I love you, dear Helen.

Note: Posted on the Caferati Board on February 3, 2005.

39. The Story of Our Lives

To write the story of this life,
of stricken love and dead passion.
A parting by choice, onward life!
Love is no more in fashion.

Words on a page, full of strife,
As milling soldiers and warring nations.
Standing mute, awaiting the good word,
this foolish army of forlorn men.

So many things to say, so much to fear,
So many sighs, and yet, not a tear.
The book seems so big: I wonder why
For all I have to say is goodbye.

A meeting by chance, full of strife,
As milling soldiers and warring nations.
Standing mute, awaiting the good word,
this foolish army of forlorn men.


So many things to say, so much to fear,
So many words, and yet, not a tear.
The book seems so big and wide,
For all I have to say is goodbye.

Edited by this wonderful writer.

38. Kehkashaan ~ Because I like Strife

I choose to live,
endure, observe,
and at times participate
in this ritual killing
of love and hate.

I choose to feel,
persevere, unmoved,
while you play
this poker game
of sticking hearts
into splintered metal.

I choose to swim,
in frigid turbulence,
in emotions untamed
and tears unwept
for unborn love
and the ice-maiden's hate.

I choose to love,
feel, dwell,
because I love this game
of sure losers and game winners.
I persist and prolong
...my existence.

Because I like the strife...

37. A burden lighter...

She breathes heavily upon the river
looking back often, for succour
elusive as ever in turgid waters.

Little lights floating by
shimmer on the surface
to sink slowly with her chosen flowers.

Three silver coins,
some copper threads,
join the troupe of drowning emotions.
With the swine's pearls, the waves break apart.
To a river satisfied...
And a lady redeemed.

She heaves a sigh of relief,
carrying a burden lighter
than the memories she wished to drown.

36. Que Nocent, Saepe Docent

Did you ever notice?
The window to his universe,
insipid blustery vodka.
A red and bothered sky,
suckling a fair moon dry.

Cringe, did he?
When distant stars beckoned,
into grey love, you fell.
Wary horizons darkened,
as the little comet fled.

Who knew then?
As you dangled the bait,
feeding on a primal fear.
Ruthless, you’d trodden
on a fallen flower.

Who knows now?
Swinging on a broken bough,
while he died unsung.
Seeping through my soul,
were the little child’s tears.

35. Unrelated

Watch her sail...
She strides back into memoryscape,
Her charger, way past neuro-electric;
Each step, slow and destructive.

Silence, in the winter of his dreams,
Reminiscing: cold stone floors and wakeful beds,
Amid crackling paper fires in untrod alleys.

Reciting Odes to assorted kitchen machinery,
Ever so temperamental, she;
A throwback to blender and carrot heads.

All hands to deck, as the icebergs thaw,
Thunderstruck piers watch, an ocean in awe.
Majestic, She sails, into another mental storm.

34. The Monks’ Vow

When you are done supping with the devil,
Steal the wicked knife, slick as a sliver;
Give it to the child, the father of evil.

You! Rose that borne the thorn, enshrine
Not Sunrise that pelts your velvet back,
It scorches your heart, as weed in brine.

Kind landlady, full of love and faulty sight,
An angelic apparition of an immoral past?
A flickering street that walked the night.

The blessed child, father of man, grows not in stature.
Nor that divine child, temple of god within.
This evil child, breeds, born of sinful pleasure.

Let him stab thee, the devil’s outcast!
Live, phoenixlike! refreshed, hungry;
Free of sin and virtue, and a dead past.

33. The Burden of Cain

Not your burden, that word of love;
Nor your passion, this one of hatred.

All I seek is solitude.
Cease, and desist,
Wave not hands in prayer,
Abel, just squirm and die!

Watch, my sun sets,
far on a horizon beyond
your mortal eyes,
Singed with greed, human.

Witness the crawl of death,
dance if you will,
over that burning pyre,
earth, that was once mine.

Thirst for more, over
drying twigs—food.
cackle as you drool,
over these ashes mine.

32. Strangely, I see the light.

Strange are my ways.
Jutting wickedly
nose beyond jaw,
ears beyond sight
into the freedom that seeps through your soul.
Shaping random perceptions, pouring animosity
into the virgin mould of childlike innocence.

Strange are your ways.
straddling every peak
staggering, blind
following faith
into the million caverns of your all-seeing intellect.
Wielding reactions from cooked-up recipes and swirling teacups,
into conjugal battles wrestled over hungry dinner mats.

Strange were our ways.
swaying wild
false steps
truely fake
into that vast openness that bounds your mind.
Fleeing prayers, soars your restless soul, now
where we once walked together, alone you roam.

31. Random nothings - II

Dark as night
the footfalls creep,
Shadows elongating,
Wired circular mazes
of cryptic fears feeding
on hiccupy heartbeats.

Surreal, these tongues
weaving as they waggle,
Wriggling zigzag patterns.
On a neural net
rendered asunder
by a shattered daybreak.

30. Random Nothings - I

Rouge skies, purple inside
wispy smoke, scattered ashes;
Random words, burning shame;
Faux arguments, the messenger's to blame!

Simpering, the trickle stems,
unfeeling, a fading landscape weeps,
Single candle burning bright,
fighting dark, locked inside the light.

29. In Memoriam…

Dedicated to the loving memory of Anil and Vimala

Shimmer, o’ seas! Break softly, my grief,
Constricting memories, bewitched and doomed,
Time, cruel master of all, stand still!
Hold my heart bespelled, bound tightly within.
Death¸ stealthy scavenger strikes deep,
Scything through treasured kith and kin.

Wistful heart, hurt no more; transform to stone!
Thy shell crackles softly, stoked in fires unknown
Bereft: life of cheer, words of meaning.
Glorious sun, shine dimmer now, be frugal and mean.
And you, moon! Glitter for happiness unfelt and unseen.
For life, and what could have been.

28. Still in Strife

From whence came this tide, stilling sullen strife?
Refreshing rivers drinking, the stillness of the sea
Succor me not, Charlatan moon, with brightness’ parody.

Colors running riot—mauve, pink, and scarlet— weeping blue skies!
Spring-born blossoms, flaunting bounteous beauty; brothers to melancholy;
Nectar-laden kisses, evading fair maidens, await truant bumblebees.

Merrily winged angels, flirting with danger—setting hearts afire!
Wild winds & weather, nostalgic lovers, recanting bitter tales.
Bright runs the darkness, spreading false cheer, nascent poetic ether!

27. Screaming in Silence

An empty staircase, bereft of the usual crowd, begs for a sprint.
Sound sleep, bereft of wild dreams, howls for awakening.
Empty glass, bereft of hemlock, beseeches for a refill.
Raging poet, bereft of love, yearns for some.
Lovely woman, bereft of the poet, throbs in pain.

Yet you ask, why do we scream so?

26. Bitter Moon Rising

A bitter moon rises tonight,
beckoning the wolf's howl, gently!
Darkness imitating cold sight;
Smiling at fading sunshine, falsely.

Swaying through desolate spiral paths,
Whistling at passers-by, lost in thought.
The velvet mask falls, swaying still spirit.
Predatory shadows veer ground-ward.

Leering at the awkward pubescent acacia,
Raging winds sing, pretenders of a new Gaia!
Mirrors lie, no more, reflections are predatory,
Sullen and sober, the truth shines solitary.

25. The Birth of Servus

Weary scars run dark, sketched deep
on a mind once wise; deluded but free.
Hope glimmers, awaiting that glimpse,
Blurred even, as the lines drawn within.

Fiery spirits, invoke forgotten memory;
As bloodlust creeps along feeble skin,
Rejecting fiesty womanhood, reigns sanity.
Life rejoices too, lost in love’s mourning.

The longing is nigh, but the lust persists;
Victor, Servus now, “Yield to her wishes!”

24. Whence died Reason

As the night fades, dreams die hard on his horizon.
Mirages—sweet oases—vanish, deluding reason.
Shadows disappear, leaving dazed the messiah.
“Get drunk on life,” they say. “Hah!” says the Pariah.

Where dies intellect, comes alive fertile fantasy;
Each delusion: bachhus’ play; Eros’ hypocrisy.
Maidens ravished, soul famished; eternal joy!
“Betwixt bliss and reason, the former, chose I.”

Where eunuchs clap in raucous delight,
Stands forlorn Quixote, tired and trite.
Shorn of desires and destinations,
the Pariah smiles at life’s machinations.

23. Awakened

Withering blooms in a searing desert;
Brightness fading life, burnt Sienna;
Sinews shrivel; bodies to dust revert:
Cryptic clues to a failing; Dementia!

Stony pillow underhead, gloominess over!
Wondering by glazed silver starlight,
spotting dark moons in a wild stream,
and silver rivets on life's wide screen.

Awakened from fear: emotions maimed,
dreams unfettered, and maladies unchained.
Long since the lucid nightmares ceased,
in serene wakefulness, lives the livid beast.

22. Desert gypsy, once free.

Desert traveler, born of a land unknown.
Boundless and spirited, vagabond soul.
Son of raging sands, and an oasis serene.
Questor, survivor of many irate Khamsin.

Of wild parentage and raging hormones,
None to succor; no mouths to feed.
Lacking reason to exist, or parochial genes;
Nothing to give, and none to yield.

Master of the artful seduction,
Simpleton, love’s fool at heart,
Gypsy soul; nascent passions ignited,
Feeling, lust, love and pain unbridled.

With none to bind, and hearts to bound;
Transforming free wolf to petty hound.
Slipping sagely through fingers clasped,
Thusly, wanderings of the messiah ceased.

NOTE:
With due apologies to a wonderful writer and companion in a series that redefined poetry for me. These pomes are part of a series written in response to each other. Sadly, the other part of the series cannot be presented here without the permission of the poetess.

21. Wanderlust

Wither pretty rose, thirsts
Each thorn for blood?
Weary arms, wistful eye,
Lonely life, meandering by.

Shy smile, playful guiles,
Shackle errant souls.
Unseen lands beseech,
Wandering minstrel he must be.

20. Serenade

Serenade you so…

Languid wave, whispering gently,
Melting softly into a raging sea.
White foam, groaning desire:
Burning white, streaks of fire.

Whistling winds, brazenly flirt
Palm fronds, creating lilting melodies.
Red moon, grey dreary mist,
Wet sand, craving to be sun-kist.

Coconut shells, assorted finch,
Humble shrubs and teak bench;
Solitary crab, hermit incarnate,
Witness to nature’s serenade.

19. Behold the Lover

Tender touches, bristling skin,
Misty eyes, wild churn within;
Flowered beds and candles bright,
Enchanted souls merged until light.

Now he wonders by a lonely sill;
Can brittle love last until she will?
Memories march in, trailing thought,
Frivolous happiness that she brought.

Sometimes here, and once within,
Volcanoes raged under his skin.
A little sweetness, and true sorrow,
Cheery sunshine scorns his ‘morrow.

Pariahs bark, but daisies bloom;
Darkness cringes at his gloom.
Once poet and a good soul,
Now mere caricature and a fool!

18. Colors of my love…

The colors on my canvas have run dry;
All that remains is grey solitude.
Her face lingers amongst the shadows.

Those blurry strokes are not mere memories any longer;
They’re but the mist that clouds my sorrows.
A faint line that stretches across her visage could yet be a smile.

Her, I yearn for; didn’t empires perish for such love?
Tears that crowd the eyes bleed the heart dry.
Frowns crease her beauty; another shameful death comes as I cry.

As the fires singe my love, I burn in sympathy.
Nothing but this loneliness remains.
Amongst the charcoal ashes in which as embers, I simmer.

17. Orbital Thoughts

I live, sometimes dwell…
in her…
thoughts…

Sometimes within, sometimes away…
We live in parallel thought processes.
We could be the same in mirrored worlds.
Or, we could be “one” in this universe.

I think of us as atoms circling the earth,
Bound to collide some day and
yield so much energy that the world around us destructs;
While we fuse into celestial unity.

Our love could consume us or yield the potential to light up a million lives.

My love, whenever you write...
All I want do is, read… you,
look at you, encircle you and
wrap those blazing thoughts into a protective shield.
And then again, smile at you.
Wink to my hearts fill,
and your heart’s delight.
Scream in ecstasy, till our ears fill up
with joy the world knows not yet.

I want to make love to you,
by the tender leaves, by the raging oceans,
while the sun smiles at the rest of the world,
and lets us be one by the glorious night…

I want to see you smile,
so the flowers know ‘tis time, to spring;
so the insects know ‘tis time, to buzz in joyous circles;
so our hearts know ‘tis time to meet; just as our fast spinning orbits;
so the world knows ‘tis time to awaken; just as we collide and fuse as one
and spawn the brilliant dawn that bedazzles their eyes.

This, I wish for myself. For sometimes, you dwell in my thoughts, and sometimes in reality.

16. Pretty Scab

Scab that you are…

Pretty little thing you are.
Reminiscent of past glories;
Famed lunge searing thru’ thy enemies;
Battle cries and stories shared at the bar.

Touchy and picky existential beauty;
Words escape weary tongues, while fingers feel
with paternal love and impatient expectancy;
To hear of the Charge that won the battle.

Tender touch that finds your finicky edges;
Quivering responses to this bounteous scar.
That awaits escape to a land across the bridges,
And final release from a body weary of war.

15. Weep unto death

Pretty red ruby,
throbbing with desire;
End mindless strife,
Set my soul afire.

See it drip,
sickle-born spittle;
Life degenerates,
witnessing death’s trickle.

14. Graceless Love

Just this grave I seek; a coffin for empty dreams
Redemption from pain; and silent screams
Pretty visage, petty pain, and faceless fright
Born of love’s battles and youth’s naïvete.

Empty battles waged through endless days
Just for the warmth, for that look on your face
All those pretty nothings you wanted me to say
Have since passed on, and led me astray.

Leaving much unsaid, these pretty words disintegrate
Merciless as your silence, as dead as my fate
I'm so weary now, of lonely bunks at sunset
I crave no more, except for that silver bullet.

Lovely one; lay this body to rest as sweet penance
Sweet memories linger, even as the lifeless romance.

13. You!

What is it about you…
That makes these
pretty flowers, wistful;
strange doodles, works of art;
wild emotions, sheer madness;
silver streams, raging rapids;
desolate words, pomes;
lovelorn songs, an unchained melody.

Are you the…
sunshine in my life,
paper boats on monsoon puddles,
sweet smile of a child,
Or the wall that bounds the garden of life…

Eyes lingering, meeting at leisure,
every stolen glance, a heart’s treasure.
Words exchanged are our loves’ apogee,
We live thus, in childlike glee.

12. Three tricks down

Three tricks down; just one to go.

It's been a long time since the evil heart was seared ~
You put fire to his ashen face, and lit up my fears.
It's chilling to wait… as the creepy shadows near.
She closes her eyes and feels those dyin’ tears.

They’ve been waiting for the dark to strike.
Waiting so long,
For the dark to strike.

The highway to hell has since broken down
She yearns for a smile, but can see you frown
The candle you lit burns much stronger;
The monsters that crawl will wait no longer.

The faces that always leered have begun to smile,
I've been waiting for the dark to enter…
So, I'll sharpen my sword and use some guile,
To slay these cretins and that silly fear…

I'll been waiting so long, for the dark to strike;
I'll been waiting… so long,
For the dark to strike.

11. Reflections

As I see your reflection...
I wonder...

As your beauty flashes in the shopping mall mirror;
A million moments await, to explode into instant nirvana.

A couple of heart beats, quicker than their brothers,
Skipping the rhythm; not caring for the others.

As I see your reflection...

Happy smiles creep on to my weary face,
As the hundred lines etched on, await their redemption from grace.

A tete-a-tete with their maker, a joyful singer and strummer;
The street comes alive just as you pass by. And I wonder...

As I see your reflection...

Can I smile tonite...
Would you feel alright?

Yes, I sometimes wonder...

10. Strange Love

Isn't this a strange love?
We know not our true selves,
So we seek, and yearn;

Yet we yield,
Give our love and nurture
What was never to be.

9. Emptiness fills me...

A solitary leaf; survivor
on a barren winter tree.
Ignorant of death's imperative;
Life pauses as it awaits death.

Morose leaf; awash in life,
Ignorant of the wonders of fall
That winter fleece give birth to sunny spring
And a land full of dreams.

Ignorant that dusk precedes each dawn;
The dark is cosier; than
the bridge that lies yonder; as impatient
glorious dawns await its passing.

---------------------------------------
Is there a meaning to this existence?
Que sera sera?!?

As emotions jostle to fill up my eyes;
realization awaits...
---------------------------------------

8. Elements of Peace

Where the mist rolls in like milk flowing over the river. The riverbanks merge into the mist. The water and the mist blur into a hazy grey, that reminds one of lazy mornings. The clouds caress you like a forlorn lover. That prompts Poetry to course through the veins.

The greenery offers a refuge from civilization. Sounds of the city are drowned in the silence of the valley. The waters sparkle and create waves that lure you into their depths. The insects buzz your favourite song. The birds sing a different tune as though they know. That you seek peace and serenity.

The silence holds its hands over your ears; the wind runs its loving fingers through your hair, the earth gently holds your head, and rests it on its shoulder. The smells of fresh rains and a land caressed by gossamer webs of busy spiders, and of raindrops that form little oceans of peace on these spindly strands. That have the strength to bear your soul’s weight.

The mist and rain play with each other, while the wind tantalisingly romances the earth. A spider hangs precariously from its home, birds tease their mates from their heavenly perches. The fires that burn are quenched in the monsoon madness. The love and freedom that the elements create let you appreciate. That the elements of love conspire to restore your sanity.

NOTES: Staring at death's eyes and being inspired by life are two faces of the same coin.

What helps us turn into better people is this understanding.
This prose poem is free-flowing, has no apparent structure, but has great meaning, although hidden.
I do not apologize for the words, cliched as they seem. These attempt to convey the state of mind attained in Mulshi--the land of plenty, where the elements conspire to restore your sanity.

7. Wading through words

The simple joys
of looking
at your words;
speaking out your mind.

Rejoicing in fuller
expression of your person;
piercing through flesh
and touching the soul.

Mirroring chaos,
strife, and happiness;
co-existing
in perfect synchrony.

Childhood memories
shaping your mind;
human emotions
dictating your destiny.

Inner duality
struggling to emerge;
a better mortal
tussling to shine through.

Oh! the simple joys
of writing these words;
that blissfully endure
to abide in silence;

Note: Took 48 seconds of existence... and fast furious typing.

6. Pixelated Imbroglio

What we shared were not mere bits and bytes;
While pretending to work,
Crouched over a precious window,
Hoping the reply came before the question.

Those smilies, life-like:
Each pixel happy and bright
Screaming for attention,
Wired with heavy electric emotion.

Those duels of keyboarding speed,
Firing in the retort before she could,
To say those precious words;
That she meant more to me than life itself.

She—could never see those smiles, nor the tears
hidden between zipping ones and zeroes,
Neither sinking moods nor those wakeful nights;
Or a desolate heart thumping along with fists on the desk

Those smilies,
Leering, torpid, and ugly pixels,
Sometimes facetious and transparent;
Never could convey real emotion.

Never knew when we drifted apart;
Not even how…
Just realized the bar flashed no more,
Didn’t need to log in like before...

5. Mere words?

Mere words, platitudes,
Euphemisms for harsher truths.
As they say, could be much better;
These regrets of mine, though, will hurt forever.

Clouded minds, recessed morals,
Upright citizens and contrite demurrals;
Penitence, sorrow, penance for a single transgression
What wasn’t said will hurt forever.

Just this life is mine to savour,
Dark as the clouds that gather;
Nothing stays this way forever;
If only death wouldn’t be so farther.

4. Visionary

Sometimes I thought…
Mostly I spoke;
Then they called me a fool

Then a miracle happened
The guru said “Hey, he’s right!”
Now they call me a visionary.