Oh! Isabella

In the silken dreams forming

The clouds bust open foaming

The marriage party goes on

to the other end of dreamy spires

While I the bridegroom waits

for the flamenco to bloom

and her hand is a precious diadem

to hold and behold her with purple delight

Oh Isabella I come tonight

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April Moon

I am the sullen ridge over the dolorous waters

who but I will drink from the deluge

a placid face to the eyes rolled I part tenter looks

upon my face upon the bobbing water

I stare at the silvery streak of pale moon

the long lost class of thirty five years hence

stares back in silence over the floating water

as if the time has spun a dark noon

which is upon us to tell the fate of a passing girl

who obliged to the task of heavenly care

did indeed sideways her heart flung

but her smooth kiss to the water does bring

a summer nest in which to cosset love

and lie forever till eternity is brought down

by April soon.

Who is she?

(1)

There is a scare of loosing love to the fire

for fire consumes all everything that enters here

For she is beyond fire in the streamlined thoughts

where she exists unhindered with objects sought

I too give her a nonchalance drink to booze around

and she flickers as if a flame does in the storm

(2)

There is a scare of loosing her to the wind

for wind takes everything within it that ensnares

for she is beyond wind in the streamlined thoughts

where she exists more than a pixie woman sought

I too giver her a nonchalance drink to snooze around

and she glimmers with a neck craned as does the ostrich

when she craves a want

(3)

There is a scare of loosing her to the seas

for the seas take everything within it that drowns

for she is beyond the seas in the streamlined thoughts

where she exists more than a gullible talk abounds

I too give her a nonchalance drink to loose around

and she simmers as does the heat of the sun

whither she stays as the home run.

The Sacrilege


Sacrilege in thought and in ideas

I deny nothing but the love of God

then where is the sacrilege in a vent of Ahs

I defy no woman a right to freer skies

or not a thought about the equality of gullibles

Tempting the taste is of the fruit of love

we must deny the taste till the sacrilege is avoided

from being construed in the world of God

and bent upon the knees with solemn pride

I hasten to tie the knot with as much as I am pleased

Gagged in the mouth with the words obtuse

I pick up the needle to pierce the thread through

so to bind the garment of love that is loved a new

You must dressed in the garment to woo all present

in the meeting to stone the devil who tied the knot

With the one who’s shunned from the company

for she strayed on to the pastures greener than many

for the nature could be imprisoned in its own device

for rebelling with love against the fabric of divine

but let’s not forget the meek shall inherit the earth

and the cuckoo tells us all that is ours and in line

with the world of wonders against the prime

as we hook up many a songs and speeches silver-en

to rule the devil and the common folk alike

in the end the sacrilege is punished for dystopian crime

Our hero of destiny

(1)


In memory of the late Hero of the modern times

who having flung night on its own accord fled

to the day with the rising sun holding prayers

at the Ganges where an easy dip is the sole arbiter

of the sins and pacified he returned home a sayer

of good values and high record keeps the door ajar

but nonetheless the sin enters on its own accord

(2)

In the middle of the foothold of airs tight

he feigns illness only to escape the light

and rest his furthermore body cool in the dark

where there is none of the rambunctious nor

the softening but maddening touch of flight

he fiddles his guitar as if robbed of mercy

but with ease he plays the song many a times thirty

(3)

Then in a fit of anger he nudge the memento nigh

as nightfall approaches he gathers the wind to shoot

more than high a shot off the sepulchral voice without a sigh

there falls the maiden replica of a goatee of a saint loot

making him richer the nonetheless companion of giants

in the vortex of hour he explains the heart to the lover’s heart

a questionnaire he prepared to pass the exam of love

Elysian warp

What a day to unfold on Elysian lands!

There was a welcome from the house of God

A homage to the dead Aunt who can never cry

any more over the bed or in the heavens above

I paid a solitude its recurrent dream to strike

even balance on the mirth of the joys and like

that pains subside with the name of Paradise

and the recurrent thoughts of bread and tea

are no more worries as I goad with delight

the rhymes divine as sung by the holy tongues

in tandem over the hour of the morning bright

Then everything changed it was all over as

I touched the feet of the elders and bid bye!

All rest in peace and the joy no more to Golf

but ate the breakfast hosted by my uncle in

the memory of the day as I returned naught

to celebrate in silence and must shriek work!