Stirring

.....  and matters had flown beyond

just you and me

I had dug too deep

beneath the layers

you were not just a woman

not just my love

not just my partner

not just my kind

not just a human

and not even just a soul

The forms of recognition

were only for the eye

through which i choose to see

and as I dug

deeper I found

only a Spiritual Priniciple

.......  a Love Divine

which proliferated into 

a form each casting a 

shadow onto another

to etch you out O beloved!

So let us meet

form to form 

soul to soul!

principle to principle

man and woman.

Were it you who cast the stirring?

~ A.

Space Within

The lake did not even know
I had stolen an unfathomable plunge
Into its deepest crest & quenched
my soul within its bosom.

Neither did the condor know
I mustered a flight in the clear sky
With a wingless gaiety to a flight
Only to formless pinions known

Neither did she know I stole
The scent of her hair as they flew
Unleashed to her regime of chores
silly daily chores of the day.

The clan of dreamers and poets
Is so nurtured and bred that life is
More real in images, thoughts and visions.
Well lived, fulfilling and responsive.

The victory of the space within
Is better realized to legions
Of time and space that lie
In the connect of the ethereal world.

~ A.

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