I cry loud and strong
Over the lost last bowls
Of mere opinions
Built on lose marketed sand
And now that, that land sliped
Away in absurd direction
I cared not to call back
Such roots of presuppositions
Injuring my noble capable self
To attain righteous words of praise!
Tied up high, like holy saints
No string does loose fly
From nocturnal dark pages
From extra work affairs;
Morning cultivates lists of day
Smaller in number of hours
Differ and make all difference,
When recepies mix in paper,
Imprints shake and shook heart,
Running for clumsy chores of day
No time remain to felicitate
Those crimes all done, with care
All steps does the lower limbs walk
To reach and teach another
Till midnight broad, till hours
Passed nights in solitude of works
Works of personal letters
When all day squeezes breaths,
Still falling eyes regret, repent
To weary hours further
To satisfy breaths of day
And sunlight energy boosts
To satisfy all clumsy crimes
By adding on more few!
Your reasons are ornamented
To suit their taste
Even if they hear you not
You pretend in their favour
Even if they see you not
You stand in their defence
Make me an evil
Take me in enemy army
When I called you, and
And you became theirs
Still unsure I lay of your,
Occurrence, in my future past!
Stealthy imprints of arriving days and nights
Young spirits of passion and colours
Neglected bad wreaths of luck and destiny
Olden myths of moral romance and tragedy
People excluded in general fright;
Susceptible longings and broad weeps
Intimate descriptions of lost regrets, follows consolation
Scrutinizing dead peels of compromises, in past!
I stood like one princess
When that scent entered my heart
When it played into my feelings
And each scent did impart
It surrounded you like breeze
You stood were it began
My eyes danced to see
Who smelled like my man?
We bothered no introduction
Yet I set start to frame
Ornaments of poetic letters
Which made my fingers lame
You, so refined and manful
Provoked my suppressed sounds
Activated little emotions
Which turned into wild hounds
These letters to you my soul
I write in full stretched bliss
When eyes see resembling men
And my heart starves the miss!
Her man had never told her, that he was not born on the land, he took her to. He came from elsewhere, something he no more remembered. She was his destiny, and he laboured to remember no more. This gift he got, which only his mate could absorb, was his only concern. Only Pearl and nobody else could be his mate, his soul mate.
Her milky skin and her keen blue eyes, also accepted this eternal proposal. His departure and his gift; she needed so much time to digest these huge alterations. To overcome his sudden betrayal. But the moment he died, her tears dried, her skin bloomed in pink, her flesh turned forty years younger. His mortal flesh got mixed in dust, within a moment. He vanished like he never existed. And soon she would vanish, like she never died.
She searched his closet for his book, his letters. “You meet me on our wedding,” was written over all his scripts, “when you turn twenty……….And you turn twenty in every forty years, when I ……….”
Your highness, splendid verdicts
Orders, opinions, temperament
Your playful eyes working on command
Driving away your wishers,
Connections with neighbours, outsiders
And disbelieve gathered for our honour!
Insensible of risks you faith’s prone
You neglect and disparage us!
Her body was tired, not soul.
A HEART IN THE CROWD
WAS BEATING LOUD
IT IS UNSEEN, BY THE NAKED EYES
IT IS UNHEARD TO THE NAKED EARS
IN HERE IT LIES, IT LIES
A HEART LUCID AND LUSTY
A SOUL YET NOT SO FUSTY
DANCING TO HER INSIPID MAN
DANCING BY THE LIVELY RYHME
DANCING ALL SHE CAN
HER EYES DANCE
AND ROMANCE
TO THE RHYTHM OF THE SONG;
HER LIMBS MOVE AND ACT FINE
FOR A LITTLE LESS TO LONG.
Listening to past, written and recorded
Listening to dark rocks and green fields
Listening to creatures unseen – unheard
Listening to glory, all lost
Listening to the singers of intellect
Listening is what I think, why I do
Why I listen, and unshut my ears!
