You came, opened the latched door, sat beside me.
A bewitching and alluring smile
Skulking on your angelic lips;
Carrying a translucent chill into my being,
Pouring, the nectar of allurement into my soul.
Let me inebriate and exhilarate in the sweetness
Of the dream, your thoughts have perpetuated in me.

The memory of yester night

Vanquished, the avid soul.

And the singing heart is asking me

The scenario and the screen play!

You came as a shimmering glimmer

Of a resplendent cloud, in my dream…

Some reveries, to pour nectar into my spirit.

When you roam, in my reveries, heaven arise

And stoop down to earth, with presents

Of bouquets of blossoms, brought from

A vanished spring, seasons behind.

Like the virtue of my sacred deeds in life;

Intimate moments, churns out ripples in the thoughts,

Chalice of the heart brims with sweetness.

Cloying spring was visible in the dreamy eyelids,

Where, swooned fantasies dangled, quivering.

Those days when love sprouted in our hearts

We forgot ourselves in the frenzy,

We could not contain inside us,

The unreconciled, youngish vigour.

There was only one horizon for us; our desires!

If once you smile, it becomes showers of kisses

In my reminiscence, and in my dreams.

And we share together one passion,

One desire, one aspiration,

And only one ambition…

Around his waist, hiding only his ‘very’ private parts.

It was Pa’s turn to start wearing a ‘dhoti’, over such

A ‘G’ string, since he wanted to cover his thighs also,

For modesty and etiquettes, being a social animal.

I changed into wearing a ‘double’ dhoti smoother,

And flimsier, by the standard of snobs among us;

Leaving the upper limbs naked, and appealing.

My son took to wearing pants to change it.

Then my grandson cut its length and made

A shorter version and called it ‘Bermuda”.

[A British Overseas Territory, where they    *

Approve it as an official dress and worn by

The Army as appropriate uniform in tropics.]

May be his son will wear only an underwear or ‘brief’;

And his grandson may even refuse to wear anything

As attire, and go stark naked, all the way; all the time.

History repeats and resurrects itself, and time stands still.

Only life and costumes change its courses…

*     http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bermuda_shorts

Do not touch me as though I am a dew drop;

I will fade away with the warmth at your finger tips.

Do not tread on me, believing that your insteps will

Find it comfortable to walk on me.

Do not try to climb down into the depth

Of my fathomless heart,

Assuming I am only knee deep.

Do not try to delight me with a kiss

On my disillusioned lips, believing

It is enormously charming and sweet.

I am just a woman, with all the vileness

Of this world, and none of these.

I am no angel….

The golden fleece of the descending sun in

The twilight, imbibing the ruddy champagne

From the chalice of the flamboyant evening,

It swooned off into a deep slumber.

And then, like the soft petals cascading on the

Virescent carpet of velvety grass, the rivulets

Of ambrosia suffused from your melodies of love…

Like dew drops as pearls of golden dreams

Plummeting into the hushed

Silence of the desolate night, over

Waters of the pond in slumber,

The soft aria of your music drizzled into

My rueful soul strewn with consternation…

As tired eyelids wearied by deep sleep,

Falls on tired eyelids in silent softness,

The ravishing tone of the music is

Caressing the spirit, and I am diffusing

In the ethereal sweetness of the inveigling song…

The ripples in the milky lake are murmuring in glee;

The specks of the moon dust is sprinkled around

Fragrance of champa blossoms pervades in the air;

Quaint beauty dance on the floor of amber dreams.

The sweetness of the silent night hovering over

On the wings of your music, sinks into my soul,

And I am in a delectable trance… ineffable.

While the undulating resonance of your music drifts

Towards me, empyrean bliss sprouts in the psyche.

If your songs are this prolific, how bounteous

Will be your spontaneous sweet penchant!

The first blossoms of love, at those times were among
The movable and immovable; the tangible
And intangible; animate and inanimate
Beings, in the universe.
They sang and we repeated the chorus;
The prime slogan: “Love is immortal.”

The happiness and delight belonged to the early eons.
The zeal, the passion, longing, attachment,
And earnestness stringed together,
Evolved thousands of hours of
Intense intercourse, of confluence.
And they sang again”Eternal is love”.
And we repeat the chorus even now.

Like the fragrance of blossoming spring flowers
Permeating its sweetness, in the atmosphere;
As the rhythms, beats and the tones of a golden
Spring, that drifts in unannounced;
Like the cloying nectar dripping into the loving heart,
A flame of passion, refusing to be extinguished;
The tears flooding from the eyes in
The grief of desolation…..
This love fulfills and is filling up, consummating
All spasmodic desires of the barren mind.

The rain clouds have awakened
The golden sands of the shores of the mind,
With images of a flower bedecked coach and
The stage for amorous entanglements of
Loving bodies, hitherto unappeased,
Raging as an inferno with lust…

What is the name of that tragic insipid emotion
Evolving inside the heart, at the time when unable
To hear a coveted voice,
You were endeavoring to hear…LOVE?

Can you call it, an undulating adoration?
When the heart is chilled, with thrills and pleasures,
By the sprinkling of a meek bliss,
Through the words you hear at a time,
While you were craving to hear it?

Give an endearing tag, for the infinite sweetness
For the  exultation you enjoy,
When you blot the honey, lurking in the tear drops,
From her eyes, with your lips,
Through, the compassion and love from your mind.

Do not try to define the sublime and winsome emotion,
That makes your reminiscence affable,
With the alluring charisma of a rainbow,
Radiating its luster, in your heart.

Let it dulcify the last moments of your life
With its nectar, held in its embryo, for our after life…

We could not reach and meet each other
Together, to have a life of our own.
Even after many rebirths through seasons.
Life is splendid and sublime where the minds
Are in unison, in every matter in our existence.
Then we long for turning into jewels of dew drops,
And trickle on the petals of blossoms.
We desire to share the warmth of our breasts,
On the bosom of the dew, in silence.
In our aspirations and illusions,
And through our phantasmagoria, we are acting
A play, where the screen play is missing,
And we are allowed to carry on impromptu.