Wednesday, December 30, 2009

nicely toasted

your hideous smile
ambush mine
in that reflected light;
arrested I stand on top of thee
I meddle with your hands
tackle you to the ground
your doozy look can fool others
(mainly that woozy limpet in your arms)
you don't have a single bone in you
otherwise I would be gnawing you to pieces
a caricature of a poet, a
(read this fact in his own words)
here I toast to you
one of my masterpieces

"I bow almost to the ground, topple over on top of you"


I dedicate this poem to
Percy Bisque Silley: A Romantic Dandy who accused me here, that I have forgotten to write poetry. I reproduce his words for ready reference:

Percy Bisque Silley said...

I do not count Mineself amongst thy Toadies and shall not leave the sort of vain and idle "Rah, rah!" to which you have grown accustomed, Miss.

Your words here are a poor excuse, if I may be so bold, for a Poetic Post.

No doubt you languish on a sofal watching your American football on your widescreen TV from your flat in the Bronx and cannot be bothered with a poem at this time...

With Stern Reproofly

Sunday, December 27, 2009

a start

a new year, a chance
to start my life from scratch
regrets dumped on the way

lured into lord's lair

sore from sitting all day
on the floor,
heart tore to bits,
harsh reality flares
in deep gorge of her mind.
she rues the day, she was snared
by his false charm.
lured into his lair
facing scorn from all.
one of those rare times, her
family had tried to warn her
about how ordinary people
like them should not
dream high. as time passes,
darkness prevails, her lord barges in
with the torch, his eyes boring
into her downcast head.
she ignores his marvellous profile,
her flair for dramatics intact
in case he decides to
torture her further.
studiously ignoring her, he retreats
after serving her delicious
pieces of cooked hare,
hunted, carved and hoarded
from last summer.
somewhat satisfied
she falls asleep with soaring dreams
of an unicorn flying in to save her
like in folklores she reads.

"if only she had learnt her lesson from her wanderlust thoughts"

Thursday, December 24, 2009

lucent pearls

a single pearl
on my skin

your skin reflects
that sheen
of my love

that love
I can't convey
in rigid words

words hinder
close my emotions
contain them in space

miniscule space
can only explode
plundering us

the very us
on its culminated wake
of lusty delight

lustrous lust
lucent pearls of sweat

that single pearl
is but a witness
of my disintegration

me into you
a complete journey-
you into me

Sunday, December 20, 2009

at the junction of mind over body

I have learnt my lesson
now I walk and walk
in straight lines
and circles too

come to a sudden halt
at the junction of mind over body
what went wrong
when did it happen

that I simply let myself go
after all those months of lethargy,
I am unable to touch my toes

In the next few months
I have dared myself to be
as streamlined as an arrow

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

ode to Percy Bisque Silley

after so long

romantic dandy is back
now my bleak days pass fast
when without a single hiccup
I read his queer posts
on rice brans,
and wheat flakes;
he also speaks of his mistress
squealing with delight
over their said intimacies
(so he says, but I think otherwise)

"for all his silliness, he has been knighted
by the same event, we are blighted & slighted"


Please do check out: Percy Bisque Silley: A Romantic Dandy

Saturday, December 12, 2009

lure of the silken threads

a world of web, spider weaves webs steadily
with gossamer silken threads chained strong
waiting to swoop for an unsuspecting prey
to fall into that parlour of smoothened edges

resistance is useless, as the lure of unknown

breaks it with skill. well versed with the art

of story telling, clairvoyance too comes forth
to conclude that breaking. wings smeared

with honey cannot fly away. crawling out

of it, with so much dignity, difficulty- victim

gets away, cleansing away that stickiness;

shaking to core, it flies soaring to open sky.

if friendship was the agenda, it had to fail-

spider’s web can draw, yet it has to let go

promises never made, can never be broken-

persistence can never turn into persuasion.

mind’s rivulets have the potential to hold

another mind to ransom, yet with strongest

of will power, it escapes. it has to, for its own

sanity- out of nothing, no life can be built.

a world of web, spider weaves webs steadily

now it is with words, which are meant to pierce.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

nature copulates

black vines entwine
to walls in the countryside
thunders bring in the cold night
trees welcome embracing rain
just like lover his beloved

soil awaits its turn
soaking in the water
to its core through it pores
quenching its thirst
as never before

lightning strikes
showing the nudity of nature
in all its splendour
in the arms of water
pouring as if to consume.

the storm abates
hunger satisfied,
each single part replete
the earth settles about
after orgasmic release

gravely offended

I walked out of that grave
balancing my lithe body

it has been long I came out of it
that musty smell was getting at me

I could never get hold of anything
in that vacant emptiness

when I materialised in front of you,
hope I didn't offend you

"your shocked reaction was reward enough for me"

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

no moorings

Have you ever felt that you had no moorings? Right now I am feeling that way...

Yes, I will find my way. But don't know when...

Sunday, December 06, 2009

housing that light

that light houses me-

my heart's desire
I am contented
ensconced somewhere
in you

weird it might sound
to some
but for me
it feels just right
this riddle that is you

"that puzzle is a beacon for me"

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Judah's Lion by Anne Caston

"Irony is beyond a boy like mine. As is symbolism.
Allegory. Metaphor, too. All is literal with him
though that doesn't rule out a wildebeest,
the one he meets each morning in the fallow field
beyond our yard, the one who lies beside him
each night now in the dark......"

Title: Judah's Lion,
Author: Anne Caston
Publisher: Toad Hall Press/2009
Pages: 96

One of the best books of poetry I have come across. Anne Caston writes about pain. But with courage and compassion. Suffering and endurance both co-exist. Written with beautiful language, this collection of poetry has the power to uplift us in the sheer pleasure of reading it. The rawness touches us. Yet the beauty of poetry sustains us as nothing else can. This book is for keeps. Anne has dedicated this book to her autistic son. That in itself touches our soul.

Now my versified review:

I let the words engulf me
& fondle my mind

just then feelings kick in,
I feel so elated.
a veritable treat,

a sumptuous feast.