metaphors

Behind those lush pastures where our child flesh pasted to adult bones never wanes.

There’s a house riddled with numberless examinations and tests.

Yesterday, when my mother told me that relationship is metaphoric to love, I twigged…

Why she felt like a sky. Endless, vast and eternal, festooned with clouds of all colours, of candy floss.

Why birds and butterflies conjured wings. Why flowers and trees sprouted, rayed and soared above. Why seeds bust open the earth.

Why devil takes the hindmost in such dynamics…

Why when love calls it doesn’t feel like withering scorn.

When the walls are riddled with ridicules and no one tends the garden, no one waters the plants, the house is reduced to ashes. When you gift Malheur, bonafide gaieties die away.

But there was still that endless and unfathomable azure depth lying above our head, inadvertently plucking us from the mezzanine balcony, barreling us away to another dimension, to another dream of love…



unfazed dreams

Unfettered, blinkers slipping out

Fail to comfort with the grace of a whore

Wilting dialogues push up the daisies

No longer flushed with warmth and kinship

Dreams unfold handsomely

The ghost of fathers pull back to match your stride

Yet to reach the police station sited at a stone’s throw

Puddles of daughter’s blood still drip off his talons

While ravens peck matter-of-factly at rodents

Watching the seer plunge his scalpel into the ripen wounds

His alabaster brows furrow, stuck in the groove

Dying at their own fancied pace

Dreamers hurl the blinkers to the pyre afire

Immerse those iron fetters of envy into the Ganges

To fashion a garden entrenched in the graveyard of dreams


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blossoming

Surreptitious climbers noiselessly creeping along the parapet sidle away hurriedly

When your satin fingers wickedly graze my fiery skin

An avalanche of wispy dayspring-blossoms burgeon amid your ardent foliage

Warm sun streaming through your skin tassels me

Pulling up me short and my heart skips a beat

An effervescent medley of joyous seasons

Softly coalesces with mellifluous arabesques of flute


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last summer

Drowsy summer of last year when fragrance was nipped off the blooms,

And the crisp scrunch of dry leaves rattled through dense sandalwood forest,

When parched limbs of trees stricken in years blasted the earth sending their roots on the hunt,

Last summer comatose days, in peril of dying, like etiolated leaves dangling in the savage wilderness pined for sangfroid and satiety

When parochial snags with their sharp edges quietly brittled away crumbling into languid quietus

You arrived

Like a moisture-laden whiff of fresh rain and the ingenious lyrics engulfed the whole forest

Like wildfire, plundering wondrous subterranean hamlets

Last summer butterflies scurried off crowding the sky bedecking it with sonorous pollen dapples.


Photo courtesy: Pinterest

here i love you

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorus on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail.
High, high stars.

Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.
Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.
Here I love you.

Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.
The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have.
You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind.
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

~ From ‘Twenty love poems’ written by Pablo Neruda


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letters

I purloined letters stowed between your luscious books in the shipshape library of my sixteenth spring

As I leaf through those lush drizzly lanes, your Lisianthus letters feather my lips, hushing me into my somnolent years

A lingering redolence of incense tiptoes close behind me during my brusque truancy to the quaint idyll

Sodden, percussive nudges ablute me as I am struck by shyness when your dawny gaze meld with the sky

brimming with millions sunrises…


Picture courtesy: Google

your hushed and honeyed ways

I scrunched my eyes to peer through the incandescent shaft

Of your hushed and honeyed ways

The haunting sweetness struck a cord with my eternally fluent night

You crawled in, playing a hose on my sable days

Splashing out an Orphic blitheness, there’s no getting away from the fact

That I’m endlessly drowning into mirth and gay


Picture courtesy: Google