When I sit fondling my dreams,
I feel like seeing you once again;
And the smiles lingering in your face,
Unfurling the petals of your endearment,
Encrusted with your endless love.

When I saw you again, I feel like talking
Something to you, looking into the depth of
Your turquoise blue eyes and its smirk.
When we came to know each other,
I never think of leaving you, even for a moment
From your soothing presence, caressing me;
And I feel the adoring spate of your tender love
In your silence, drenching me in its sweetness.

I can make out a thousand springs for you,
With a tiny flower of my sublime dreams;
I can make a cascade of rain with the
Endless tears spurting from my eyelashes,
At a time, when I don’t see you for a while.
I can dissolve the moonstone of your love
In my love, to paint many a splendored
Moonlit nights, invading my senses.
I will write a trillion poems in your heart
With a quill dipped in your eternal passions!







“ Two souls with a single thought

Two hearts that beat as one”
-John Keats

Is love a syndrome of madness?
Giving out a warmth, and vigour;
Affection and self assurance!
Nothing else contribute to one’s
Contentment in life, to carry on.

With the memory of one kiss till death;
Gratification of a birth by one touch;
It transcends through death to re-birth.
It carries humans to the lonely shores
Of death and re-births all at once
In the same moment of a lofty realization.

The mind always yearn to trespass
Into the forbidden parameters.
And the social taboos always relate
To physical promiscuity only.
Love remains in the spiritual sphere
Of passion and affection, and tenderness.

We have corroded ourselves in our quest
For physical urges and outward appearances;
They are ephemeral and evasive.
Limiting our vistas to perceive and
Comprehend the truth far beyond
Our gaze and reach, eternally.
Love has been debased through recent decades.
We try to buoy up a system
That has become obsolete and irrelevant
To modern life, that is insidiously destructive
For the soul and its purity.

~.. Kunjubi








Tell us you prophets; tell us you seers, you soothsayers;

How long we have to wait for the Dawn?

What do you foresee about it?

We are frustrated, yet have hope in our hearts

About the glorious golden morning, we fondle

And yearn in our thoughts, relentlessly.

Tell us you Creators of this universe

If the grandeur of that morning is

Still far away, and inaccessible.

The edifices of faith that were orchestrated

Through eons from the inception of this terra firma

Are in ramshackle, with the tempest

Of civilization, through its aggression and assault.

On this marching runaway runway

God is standing debilitated as a destitute,

Exhausted and played out bereft of his powers.

Justice and charity, equity and truth have grown

A beard and are meditating in penance.

The chariot of spirit driven by Lord Krishna delivering

The ‘Gita’ at Kurukshethra battlefield,

Has lost its track, gone berserk and toppled down,

Sinking in the mud of imported culture.

In this battle of ideologies and faiths stand

The Homo sapiens without a battledress, and unarmed.

Philosophy and wisdom placed on the pyre,

Are burning in flames and benevolence and humanity

Are lost eternally, in human minds.






Goddess of my heart! Did you forget
The blossoms of dreams, we gathered together in
The baskets of our hearts, in the past?
The melody, we composed in the lute of our soul,
Of our love, and its vibrant tones?
Are those flames which enlivened in
The temple of your eyes, with dreams
Dowsed with the fuel of love, extinct now?
Through ages and rebirths I was saving
Those specks of flowers resplendent like
The evening sky, in my heart.
Did the beautiful castles you built in
The air of your day dreams, topple down,
Like a palace of cards, in your life?
A mansion embellished with beds, made of flowers,
Kept awaiting through ages for us to lie down
And enjoy through our nuptial nights.
Did that mansion dilapidate, and now raze to the ground?
This life is a branch of a tree,
Where dreams come to roost
All the time, and desires fizzles and vanish.
Here I am happy of my birth, when I enjoy
A tender breeze embracing me with its love,
A bower of jasmine, where I spend my sunny daytime.
And in there an oscillating swing where passion emerges,
And perchance you with me, all the time…













Some one attempting to play a sad note  

On the earthen dulcimer of the mind;
A note and rhythm of tears, dripping from
The icicles of solidified grief;
With insipid energy, and whimpering spirit
Like an evening that is spent;
And bidding farewell with chaotic attrition
In the innards of synergic debacle.

Even the regaling moonlight and
Starry sky has become scorching
Summer that scald the prurient passions
Sheltering inside the soul, in a cloister.
The splendorous spring has dwindled into
A spasmodic, saddening winter.
And your sodden heart, a picture
With the ornate glass, broken in splinters.
You have become a singing bird
Wounded, and flying in the darkness.
On the streets of rainbows, awakens
The tumult and maelstrom of the sky.
On the unknown nameless road
Someone is wandering with agony,
Melancholy painted across the face.

Affliction gathering teardrops, overwhelming
In the heart, hiding among the eyelashes as
Condensed atonement , of tribulations.
Effigies of shadows like puppets
Are awaiting for something to happen..
Borrowed births recreated from previous births.\

 Ogling as the rain clouds with a throbbing heart alone
Amidst the whistle of cold wind
Attempting to sing a dirge in despair..
The treads diffusing into echoes
Linger in the cold air as they fade out…