Married Woman

Without
circling around fire,
she becomes
my married woman.
Without
wearing
sanguine vermilion,
she becomes
my married woman.
How can I describe her?
How can I describe
her immaculate love
that awaits
my road to intersect her?
Without
even listening ‘yes’
from my lips,
she smiles
with confidence.
Without even
asking for anything,
she makes her available.
Yes,
how can I describe her,
how can I describe her?
Yes,
without
circling around fire,
she becomes
my married woman
who never
wants me
to become truant to her.
Yes,
without
wearing sacred thread,
she becomes
my married woman
who worships me
in the temple
of her heart
as Krishna
keeping
her name as Radha.

Duty Never Ends

Duty never ends,
Adding more trouble
To routine work,
Thunder comes
Like a ghost
And
Interrupts supply of current
Giving ache to mind.
Stationary and lifeless
Become
The intake pumps
And don’t supply water.
Awaiting
Resumption of power
And
Maintaining the water balance,
Mind does all calculation.
Attending calls
From men in totem pole
And passing them
Necessary information,
I await the current.
Yes,
I wait with patience,
I wait with patience.

Theatre

I don’t know whether I am a good actor or not but the theatre that I do every day for my earnings requires skill.

I wait for you

On the meandering road,
I wait for you.
On the meandering road,
I wait for you,
Still Zephyr
Doesn’t tousle my hair.
Nearby
Spring becomes indignant,
Doesn’t lilt the song of love.
Yes,
On the meandering road,
I wait for you,
But you don’t come
And
your coterie don’t bother for me.
Falling Tears of eyes
Schmooze with my aloneness
And
Frustration saunters
With my tottering legs.

Sanguine partners

Love
is a union of hearts,
love
is an intersection
of emotions.
Yes,
love chose
two sanguine partners
Rajat and Kiran
to give it
permanent nest.
In their first meeting,
love breathed.
In their
unanimous decision,
love blossomed
and
in their permanent tie,
love became
triumphant
Yes,
love wore
the skin of life
with their
timeless relationship.

Craving

I need attention,
I need recognition
Are the craving
Of my heart.
I pretend that
I don’t want
to be in limelight.
In my conscience,
in my each work
that I put effort,
I aspire to taste success.
Is it an avarice,
is it an exercise
of a wrong thing?
Mind wants madness
doesn’t want me
to be a dilettante,
wants me to be
a passionate performer
to be a real
a connoisseur.
Yes, I need attention,
I need recognition,
I want to be an oenophile
to taste the liquors
of top successes.

The Journey

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These are the links to order my book Monalisa(God’s boon for the sad-sack poet)

The journey:
Thank you will
Not suffice,
Still this buccaneer
Will mutter.
Plundering the ocean
Of knowledge
From everybody,
I have become
Somewhat opulent.
Meeting the connoisseurs
Through their
Innovative creations,
I have never allowed
The tide of knowledge
To ebb from my lexicon.
The journey
Of a writer manqué
To a co-author of many books
And finally an author
Of a book
Till now have really
Given me new heights.
No more I suffer
From achluophobia
And atychiphobia,
Nomophobia always
Grasps me
And I never forget
To write my heart out
On the platform
Where laureates often
Come with
Their Magnum opuses.

Poison

Dump me,
I am dog- tired.
Oust me,
I am dog- tired.
Wearing
the shirt of pretension
and dropping it
in wee hours to mingle
with your untrue body
is a Herculean task.
No more
I can suck poison
on the name of love.
Yes,
Oh! The siren,
dump me,
I am dog- tired,
oust me,
I am dog- tired,
I can’t blame love,
I want to lose libido.

Seasons

Seasons change
And so do I.
In summer,
My sweat mingles
Into yours to reach
The pinnacle
Of happiness.
In winter,
My love becomes
A caulk for the
Tower of your love.
Yes,
Oh! My significant other,
As the rainy season
Decides to prevail
On earth,
My chapped lips
Becomes wet
With your celestial touch.
Yes, Seasons change
And so do I.

Santa Claus

I am not a brat,
I am not a brat.
Throughout the year,
I have never
Become uncouth.
I deserve all
The confectionery
And gifts.
Oh! The Santa Claus,
The happiness giver,
The well-wisher,
Sitting on the sleigh,
Knock my door,
Test my veracity.
Tousle my hair
With your white beard,
Give me your red coat;
I want to emulate
You ringing
The bell of happiness.
Yes, give me all the love
And confidence
That you will come
Again on the
Eve of Christmas
And I do promise,
My goodness
Will never diminish,
My innocence
And crudeness
Will remain intact.

Destiny

Snuggling to you
for last time,
let me
cry my heart out.
Quixotic was
not my love,
untrue were
not my feelings.
Unable to change
the destiny
that has
decided to award
me ephemeral life,
I want to retreat,
I want you to go ahead.
Yes,
I can’t gallop with you,
I can’t be with
you any more,
I have to visit
the land where
no living being
is allowed even
to promenade.

Candid confession

When
I behold
the dew
on the bosom of rose,
you frequent
to my mind.
When
the unruly Zephyr
gently tousles
my hair,
you frequent
to my mind.
When belligerent moon
peeps through window,
you frequent
to my mind.
Is this the symptom
of philophobia;
If it is so,
I would love
to be in this?
If wishes
mollycoddle me
for acquiring
your nearness,
there is no wrong in it,
I would
love to do
candid confession
to my silence
that I love you.