stupor

The Purple Robe by Henri Matisse

impassioned-
she sits against the grey background
deep in some thought
what, you might ask
and she will not answer
she is forced to pose
for a portrait,
her pregnant belly hidden from you all
a folly maybe
but a concrete proof of her inner self

"you build a border for her,
but I think she is trapped
in the intricacies of that frame"

an oracle

a foolish being-

she is at the mercy of her mirror
an antique before

now a broken piece

polish gone awry

yet it beholds her

she relishes her image

(I pity her)

an image as broken as the mirror

both wait for an oracle

one animate, another inanimate

"mirror and her are yin and yang"

diamante

that snake
sneaking under a carpet
I can see its outline
I am numbed at one place
only my eyes move
those baubles distract me
I trap that snake 
with the reflected light from my eyes

"bloody diamonds can personify innocence too"

a statement

Photo Credit: Greg Laychak
a statement-
I see in your stature
that fierce independence
is never far away
fuchsia, pinks and whites
merge with the grey
you redesigned that window
to usher in the orange-yellow sunshine
I walk out of the frame
corridor swallows me in

"that path can contain only you,
while I remain in the periphery"

from one room to another

from one room to another
I walk miles
in the inner sanction of my mind
you lock me in your pendant
I am outside with my words.
which reverberate the time
from the tiny window
I see the life force
locked in your horns
trapped inside a vacuum

"let me create melody from meaningless sounds"

when earth moves

Photo Credit: James Rainsford

I will do my laundry when
blue light fully fades into green
a goldfinch comes to sit on windowsill
the slippery moss can't ruin my mood
I like the sunlight on the prison wall
it is trapped for a while
can only escape when the earth moves, 
repeated each day, in that tiny cell

"virtual can be caught in a real situation,
escape too is not that easy"

aeons

forget night,

can be reminder

of stillness-

also drag

an amoral rendition

of frozen impact 

"more" me

with knick knacks
I have created space
that is unique to me
in a palette
colours bleed into each other
merging my soul
I have thrown shackles
at threshold of me

hidden

the furniture, they know my secret

deep in their belly, 

they hide my amber scarf

I have looked for it everywhere

found spots of soups 

we used to share

and a single coin

few beads

your gold cuff link

I found a breath too

yours or mine

I can't say

"do store in Pandora's box"

draining

such a waste-
concrete emotions
ended, as
evident
from the past, as a result of
tragic illusion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadorma:

line one has three syllable

line two has five syllables

line three has three syllables

line four has three syllables

line five has seven syllables

line six has five syllables

finding dreams for you

my tresses
a silken cover- 
you like it.
caressing
me with careful strokes-
you cherish my skin too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

words form here
I put a semblance
only for you
you sleep in
letting yourself free in your dreams
while I search for more

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a Shadorma (26 syllables):

line one has three syllable
line two has five syllables
line three has three syllables
line four has three syllables
line five has seven syllables
line six has five syllables

physics of it all

residual burnt ochre-
I can't taste it now
veiled in that glass is my PostSecret
if you look long enough
you might get to the bottom
a broken, battered bottom
I fixed temporarily with cello tape
yet you can see spills on the table-
blotched yet has personality

"and yes, I see pillars come out of the glass-
laws of Physics can be defied, you know"

poetic vacuum

yellowed thread of that green balloon
entangles your pauses,
you find vacuum in my knees-
the gap between my feet and ground,
you fill it with sensual poetry.

comrade in arms

it is wholly nigh
to say that
April showers bring May flowers
merciless heat has no place for rains
it only support abrasive dust
the underside of over-bridge
is as dry as it can be
We see fishes reflected back
images merge with one another

"paleness of the dry acrid earth
engulf the Sun into their fold,
are they comrade in arms?"

order of the day

there are days,
I remember tossing out
of that side broken window. 
I can't recall the contents of those days.
I have gone out numerous times
to pick up those days, 
however, someone else has taken them-
maybe reused after dusting.

"now that window is mended
I want the days back in their proper place"

don't be shocked, I can handle power tools!!

meticulously you use those power tools
along with you, those makes me drool
I want to handle those
you are adamant that I shouldn't
I haven't told you that I can work with tools
saw precisely, and drill neat holes
I know I fabricated about being a petite female
but with my knowledge of power saws
I am anything but that

"peculiar you might think but it is normal for me,
power screw-drivers give me a big high"

ignition point

I ask you
where is the fire?
you say look around
it is in the air that surrounds you-
in the intimacy of two of us
we hold it in the palm of our joined hands.

when these words touch me
I feel a slow burn on my skin
knowing fire is not for away.

" I am burned before I reach the ignition point"

ghost of a rose

blemishes you see behind that visage
are not all mine
I rubbed those out of the camera
how I did that I can't say
that picture is a messenger
but you won't understand it
can you enhance that flaw
a characteristic embedded in me?

you are out of that frame
I am in it now, right in front
a ghostly facade enhanced by lights 

misty dew

I touch the dewdrops
close my eyes tight
wish for those to surround me

I taste my fingers
each dewdrop tastes like elixir
I collect some in my palm

sprinkle those on that window
watching droplets scatter
on that window in a pattern

I slowly rub the dewdrop on you. 
when it penetrates your skin
you swiftly turn towards me 

rose misted droplets on that glass
covers your curved back
while you cover me with you

percolating into me

I sort through my closet
find you hidden in my clothes
I wear you on me
your scent is like an epidemic
which percolates into me

I give you hood of my emotions

who took march away from me?

march left me in a lurch
suppose it was in a hurry to go
to exit 181, 1/2 mile ahead.
to usher in the harsh summer

the april sun hits out at me.
painfully, I carry it on myself
a tempest in the making-
burning my skin in the process

loud march should have stayed
if the compass had not let it stray
maybe it needed my persuasive power
which I needed to use.

"riches of the disappearing months,
I try to collect in my palm-
waiting for you to pluck it from there"