than a man,
He had wishes
simple and easy to fill
that I can.
He talked polite
and smiled delicate,
his words were
soft, Measured
and flawlessly accurate,
Heavenly divine
was his grace,
warm and cosy
were his brace.
Little did I find
in him, a fault
Rarest of rare,
My king was great.
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A poem
a dream come true.Prior to its conceptionthe poet feels likesomeone or somethingis withina limbless entitya touchless kiss,a lust free urgetouching you,kissing you,hugging you,embracing you,fingering atall the strings of the heartlaceratingall the veils of desireslickingall the tenderness withingaggingall the chaosinside the locked corridor.of the soul.And here starts the nausea..The first vomits initiatedSign of impregnationAnd the idea…
Space and time go along
Veins of moon quench thirst.
The moment
our hearts bouncedour eyes glancedtogether, towards-a blue embrace-of hands and hands,of hearts and hearts,of souls chumming with loveof two beings fusinginto a complete oneness,into a divine union, is over!It’s better now,we forget each other! !
Oh Papa…
Love for the people.The people we meetOn the roadsOf the pastOr the present,Of the future –Near or far.Love for the people –Who lead usAmongst the storm,Who lend usTheir handsIn sharing, caringOr inspiringThe tenderness in us.Home,09.15 a.m.01 August 2014.
The shawl of Winter mist
the vast expanse ofgold fragrancein the mustard fieldsmurk the lust skin deep.Wisps of winged cloudstart soapingthe soft fair nude skinof the lady mountainsurge a fire of urgein the nuptial bedspread over tons and tonsof mustard flowers.
The Kilo-class ruled over villages,
Where Dogs and ATM cardsHad no meaning at all.Liquor and Mutton playedThe Piano of their future,A few coins monitored theMouse of their fortuneTill the next term of the election.The Patriotism and NationalityNarrowed down to mere SlogansSlogans of sycophancy,The words taught to themAt the peak hours of their addiction.The monkeysHad their own apes,Called Personal Apes, P.A.Trained…