The Love Poem

3

Battered out of shape I put on faces,

smiling for you and only you in the garden,

where sits beauty amid the birds chirping a song,

of separation in the world already separated,

When I don’t see you in the sky or in the garden,

then sets my alarm going as you have reappeared,

from the dream of love in lonely place,

I knock the door, your door in anticipation,

of more love  soothing my body like water,

flowing through the river soothing the depths,

of me hardly having been called lover by your senses.

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The Love poem

2

I sat besotted with mind over things fanciful,

till you came and picked up my mask of carnival,

Play and don’t play marks the beginning of love ascetic,

who willingly goes running for heap of love with pathos,

his fingers dipped into cloy clay and a statute of God as being,

hangs in front for the love blessing.

 

I am cold and effete waiting for your movement made to love,

come maybe the solemn desire of holding you in arms,

and vague painting holds me back, a salute for positive energy,

I am sunk deep into myself willingly tying the knot with you,

for art’s prelude and artistic mindset, there’s a loose painting,

of indistinct color but I think you in the frame as having picked the sadness,

of bright moon only to splurge the light upon my face,

I am fighting to hold the ground with you and with love in these days.

Purple dreams

A bent thought about the forest,

men live not but out of closet,

to bring forth the shadows of pyre,

built and lit on the boulders of desire,

now of conscience when left refuses the right,

and the heavy propelled thoughts fall with might,

to bring a new the social order,

calamitous and warring disorder

 

I tell her why the land is fertile,

she comes out in dismay to sterile,

the land and her womb where nothing grows,

because she pulls the thoughts to her brow,

and sells the home only to marvel deep and sow,

the fancy of clouds that hang and go.

The Love Poem

1

With disgust in my dreams I wish the Bollywood star listen to my dream,

there is a goat charging the fields with aimless wandering,

and comes prepared for the sacrifice of love and the princess was doubtful,

of every action the prince would take and now the forest men wanted,

a sacrifice of the goat for love to propel itself in the hearts of the lovers,

the sacrificial goat the Bollywood star would bring to the fore,

and let the love space even all men and the women beautiful,

Princess was charmed by the goat with its delicacy for art,

The goat could sing cried the mafia men now living in the forest,

for the want of money, The goat would sing a song of separation of love,

The prince silent but with the thought for the fire anointed love,

refused the sacrifice of goat that otherwise would bring love and care,

The prince and princess united felt safe in the environs of the forest,

Let all be silent.

The Love Dream

There were hills surrounding the forest and the prince stood idle,

He had a dream of faraway lands and beautiful princess,

The poking at the tree had lasted civilian protests as thought,

by the environmentalists to fell the trees of the forest,

Nonetheless princess was adorned in the love of rituals,

of fancy and zany clothes to the exquisite jewellery,

and she hardly spoke of vanity and desire for the prince,

The love ritual as was bold to douse the fire with water,

and none to see where the heaven is all mighty and strong,

Prince sent the lovelorn gift of a sapphire and the dancing stone,

which was met gladly by the silent throes of men and women,

The prince was naught with love for the blue queen and it was all in a dream.

The Sun colored Love Dream

I dealt with love again to look up to her for perfume of the saints,

who come and stand midway between destiny and parade,

and with tousled hair she would commit the life of a Don,

to careless symphony of her own device

 

There is goat and monkey tied to the tree for nothing,

for today is the blockbuster day of a Hindi flick and,

the passions would rise for the sun colored love dream,

that I dreamt last night.

 

There are marked coins for happiness,

that would bring laudable symphonies to homes,

and the people would celebrate the season,

with light in their hearts

 

and nothing lasts like sun colored love dream

 

 

 

Over the brim

the glass when filled over the brim,

spills against the nothingness of life,

It is half full or empty when poured,

otherwise left drunk from the fountain of love,

there is a sinister game of plying desires more often,

than not the silence of the unspoken words by lover,

who walks undead in the morning sun ,carrying glass

filled with brim of joyous pride of having spent night in love,

with the divine but the ego faltering at the other end,

of love living in the age of modern warfare,

where usually lovers knock themselves down with,

the wine for life and surrender not to ego but ego less thunder.