Crestfallen Reveries

Where do that colored beads take me?

The beads of constellating reveries

Rolling and glistering

They swell my sight

Trance?

Oblivion?

Languid?

In “Lethe”?

Am I the bleak shades in the buried vision of a painter?

Hankering to be splashed onto the canvas?

To concretize the envisioned images.

Am I the movements?

The grace in a dancing figure?

Am I dust?

Clay in the fist of a sculptor?

To be fused and churned

To be pressed and wrought

To be an enticing Galatea?

Estrange me from the air

 Design and fabricate!

"Do I wake or Sleep?"

Slip of Fingers!

I live in my fingers

The fingers which deck my haughty eyes

The fingers which tickle my ears,

With the turning of the forbidden keys

I dart out to the forbidden space

To be ravished and chiseled by the rain

My anklets unquiet 

Drenched and dripped 

With the pattering piercing downfall

When the convulsions of the intoxication wither

I dexterously elude the repercussions

And brush off the silent judgments

With a foxy tag of "slip of fingers!"

I no longer drape the nudity of my ragged mind

I no longer pull the cloak over me

To curb the blizzard of brickbats 

No longer shrivels my charmed naivety,

By the envy of the bliss of a crawling infant

For I am cauterized by the burning embers

Embers of the forlorn past!

And as these words are born

I would like you to tag this 

 As slip of mind

Wedded with slip of fingers!

Insatiable Sensations...

I plucked out my sensation beyond sensation
And gave it you...
"Where's the root?" you asked
Well...the root was steeped in mud
It could have dirtied your hands
"But I wish to see the roots..."
It's from the roots the sensation has grown
The fair palpability of  fragrance
Feel it!
Inch by inch... 

It will take you to the root!

Do you see that??

It's winding all over you...

The roots of overwhelming sentience

Wait....be gentle...

You are in a bubble...crystal clear...

Chuck out the skeptic thorns

"Willing suspension of disbelief!"
You are in a bubble...

Revel in it...

Before its fragility fractures it

Before the wind betrays it

Revel in it!

And then slowly you get it...

The sensation beyond sensation

Comprehension beyond comprehension

Which I often talk about.

A thought which waited like ages

Soared up... 

A retaliation after endless subjugation!

The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore but be in the lake...to luxuriate in the sensation of water. I do not work the lake out...it’s an experience beyond thought...poetry soothes and embolden the soul to accept the mystery!  - Keats

                                                                     

Waves and Ripples...

Of all the games you played

The most indelectable for my delectable heart

Was your love.

Everything that exists seeks for reason to exist

Same is your love.

But I wish if it were bereft of reason…

Reasons take away the beauty!

 You teased my Ennui

“Speak…. Speak…

Your dumbness stinks

Don’t stare…just speak!

 You owe me your thoughts,

Every little move inside…”

I could find the blotches of distances

We vacillated between the two extremes

Leaves of different trees…

You the waves of ocean

I the ripples in river…

Both designed to meet and dance

But I loathe the ripples to be engulfed by the waves…

I loathe it because you love it,

As a pleasure and an untangling knot  

That makes the ‘ripples’ to be seen as ‘waves’!

Forget it dear…

Let me be the ripple

As ‘you are the wave’!

And if you want to confront me with ‘syllogisms’

Remember….

Reason takes away the beauty

For me!

Memento Mori

She said:

“My consciousness will still be awake

In a leaf

Awaiting your fingers’ stroke

In a rosy petal

On which you may gaze one day

In a breeze

Which you tend to feel

Never will I perish

For I live in your senses

Never you weep

For I am the tears”

She perished… to the naked eyes.

I walked over your wetted ashes

In many an autumn falls

I rested on the wrinkled tree trunks

Inside whence you might have sighed.

Never had I pined for you,

When you breathed.

Never really saw you,

When you stood beside me.

Never heard you

When you spoke.

But now…

Your claimed presence

Do torture my conscience .

Do you pursue me?

Or I pursue you?

If I have known your brief lease before

I would have given away

All your arguments…

Now arguments I long for.

Would have succumbed to

Your persuasions…

For persuasions itself lost now.

I would not have twisted

The confessions…

The pretences…

Of which I was certain of your catch

Somewhere at the evening of our lives.

The evening…

Far before which you have left.

Leaves I stroke

Petals I gazed

Breeze I felt

Amidst a thousand clatters

I hear you

A thousand lights…

I see you

A thousand pleasures…

I pine for you.

Never have I known you

As I know you now!

Should I sob or laugh?

I know not…

Do you sob or laugh…?