Can one name this eccentric passion?
That neither allows sleep nor
waken
Or stay or even leave
Staying, burns. Leaving, kills.
For the heart cries and laughs
Wanting to cleave and shred
Into a million shards
to present to thyne wild spirit
This scream in my interiority
Fancying consuming thou
And not share with another
Even a child
Or a wild electricity
With which I’ll behead
and then proudly kiss thy face
and keep beside when I go to bed.
Children, mine
but not mine.
Born out of another womb
But blessing was mine
For they paved my path to
nourish the mother within
I wept after goodbye
Craftily, so that they don’t see
Just like the clouds that day
With friendship and tenderness in
heart
Sad, yet proud of the hope to see
Them, peak as human beings
I’ll miss the yearning I saw in their
eyes
The naivety in their presence
And the embraces and tryst with
art
Oh! They leave me with such
uncertainty
Of when we’ll reunite again
But a mother also waits
So it’s alright.
I wonder then,
Why do I need children of my own?
When I already have
Children, mine
but not mine.
Bursting with plump nectar
Sweeter than honey, I say
As I chew into its desirable flesh
My poor mouth explodes
Into frenzies I’ve seldom known
Each morsel steering me
Into a fresh symphonic satisfaction
That can’t be discerned without
eyes closed
I caress its every luscious curve
Between hitched teeth and tongue
And excited roof of mouth,
But before you know, juices dribble
And I slurp the last dewdrop, mulling
Why doesn’t this divine tropical
fruit
last too long?
Love, tender and raw,
I begin to taste
Between my fingers and
In my hungry mouth
The company of a lover
Flick of the tongue and pleasing sighs
The fragrance of golden champak
And a moon sliver that shines
Sensuous whispers and thirsty pecks
And lingering caresses on the spine
A secret known only to the
Trees that swayed that night
And not to the petty world
That obliviously would deny
The stealthy affair of energies
Unsurprisingly mysterious and unavoidably
sly.
I’ve fallen in love
In love with a vagabond.
A fiery wanderer of the jungles
Befriending snakes and goblins
A wild one himself
Who drinks passionately from
the cup of moon all night
I’ve fallen in love
With a strange vagabond
Who refuses to put down roots
A wild tiger in search of none
Musical yet untamed
With skin made of ash,
I’d lavishly smear him on mine.
I’ve succumbed to his wild ways
Yielded to his charming gaze
There’s scarcely anything left of
me
When his scent tarries around
Unpossessable is he
So I let him go, that vagabond.
Because he belongs to the wild.
The affair that lingers
Covertly, tacit,
Between leaves of poetry
and poetry of leaves
The affair between
Unhurried silent strolls
Downing unashamedly
the unasked, the unspoken.
Like the affair that springs
Out of strummed sitar strings
And percussion, with hands
That know its every cranny &
crook
Or the affair that is abstracted
within polished red seeds
the old banyan roots and golden tulips
Or from the insobriety of the
moon.
The moon plays hide and seek
With you and I
I would catch glimpses of her
While you plunge into my eye.
Her fragrance tiptoes
on the ripples all the while
As you and I caress the river
Hands intertwined
A thousand kisses and glow worms
Quiver between infinite time
Your finger traces the creases on
my skin
No boundaries. No lines.
The glittery joys of your laugh
Ricochets in the silence of the
night
I’ve saved the kisses and smiles
in a little jar.
Just tell me where to hide?
