Colour Palette

Tactile blinded warmth

of the colour palette

I heave to an array of forms, 

fluids, tints and hope

streaks of shades impressed

by the blade of your strokes.

Brushing my formlessness

with the ebbs and troughs 

of body and soul-unite

carving images-shapes

meaningless to the world

but to passions known.

Fiery red of your saree

staining the canvas though

dexterity of the craft reveled

moist at the corner of your eyes

floating passions delight and drop 

a dash of silver from your anklets chime.

With the emptiness anointed

to a fervent evanescent joy.

on your brow is a bindi smear

a taint from the instinct poured

in my soul and a reminder of the 

rapture dyed in coloured trance.

~A

evanescent - vanishing; dexterity -  mastery ; revel - rejoiced ; rapture - euphoria, ecstasy. 

The love all game continues longest – SQUASH Poetry

Initially we were just knocking and
then the love game began.
LOVE ALL !! they exclaimed.
It was in a fit that we surged
to hit and serve,
and hold the court that was divided
between us in one closed space.
The game seemed to be endless
till the time it was a  LOVE game.
When one dropped the other served.

Love ONE !
Oh ! it was a mistake.
The game shall move to an end
when the race for point began.
the Rules for this race for were known
but who cared, I was there for the thrill.
To take every service
I had to rush forward to play
And after the shot, hold my court back.
It was ONE Love!
And the service changed
Soon it was LOVE 2..
My partner got a chance
when I made a service fault.
So this time to gain a point
I place the ball well out of the reach.

The game shall sometime conclude
but all I know is
In the end one love is enough
to make me loose....
We always loose to a love.
~A.

Need to React

Sozzled, Sore, Intrepid

I head to the door, 

unbolted it and crossed

Thrilled! I had reacted,

Soon, there was calm.

Its not been very long,

but I am curious to know

whether I walked in or 

I walked away?

~A.

Clothes-line

Is there a difference 

either today is not true

or yesterday was false.

Have I awakened to the fact-

"Life is more about disbelieving

than accepting, belonging owning".

My breath only a Clothes-line

naked neat clear cold

pinned to the beginnings

swinging across space and time 

with a force challenging the holds.

By each morning's light,

an array of coloured shapes,

adorn enriched - promises

clipped to me - ah! a dream,

are parched dry in the heat

hooked clamped to me 

only for my force to hold. 

You can see and smell

their rich fragrance release

by the flipping breeze

of bodies-occasions-shapes

weaving an array of tales

mesmerizing noise of life

to which I swing and play

all day. 

Colours shed by the night.

The time-tied transience

of prosperous shapes and dreams

the clothes-line thinks it owned

Was it not a recharge stop by,

finally to enrich and colour those

to whom they belong.

On evenings I shiver as they 

leave me to homeless nights

with only a bare,unrealized

ill-clad incomplete lifeless Self

clinching to the ends.

It is an unsaid promise

to all my brothers and creed

that untold stories shall pour

with fresh colours shape and grace

pinned to our breath each day,

if only we can live the destitute nights

and to the nailed ends hold

and this was our Life.

~ A

Flow

The river's leisured flow

emracing the soiled city

as you cuddled beside me

your fragrant naked body-

There are bridges across

to hold the scorching bond

my arms brace and tender

you a union trance.

Inert nature of city

holding the turbulent banks

imagining a maze of curves

vulnerable aroused sleep.

On nights the coast caves in 

lusting shingles in a frenzy

still feeling your depths

tyrannical revelry  innocence.

Deluge a measure of passing

torn-drift to nameless lands

fresh delectation pending

flare fervour rocks.

~A

Catalytic Evening

I woke up many times

churning a myriad impulses

scattered stimuli gathering

a destination in my dreams.

Cuffed in a body's wrap

dream time's symbiosis

part neurotic part ethereal

returning to fade my breath.

Chasing desired causes dryness

or was it the ale I over drank

over a vodka carrier cocktail

coloring the evening's stance.

The pillow often tried to stitch

sleep on to a mind smeared

with hallucinogenic hops

giving body to flat life-beer.

Mixing drinks - never a great idea

specially if you do it for a high

to crack the skin we are living

instinct's destined feel.

~A.

Reality Divorced on the junction of Tudor Park

On the  corner of the UN

with an ageless blade of steel,

was uprooted for a cause

probably there was one

with none to mourn

but the breeze and the stones.

My trunk had grown too strong

and the roots had dug deep

firming with the foundations around

pushing ways that were mine

deep into the ways and meanings 

that only the chainsaw owned.

On the border of the roads and dreams

I stood with my brothers for an age  

- reminiscent emotions from forbidden lands

rooting for life and shade

the throttled teeth and innocent beings

could only partly understand.

Probably I leaned too much

or my dried leaves littered a resplendent emotion

into the rocks the paved lanes held.

someday the muggy tar shall upturn

and my lineage shall leap to life

to cherish OUR share together. 

Trunk was slit, the branches shredded

Aimless roots in the soil rejoice

that to OUR worlds belong

restless shoots aroused the Caution

the wayside souls could trip

some of my breed still enrich

the inert nature of 1st Avenue, 43rd Street.

~ A.