The genie

I was sure I had bottled up
The genie,
and closed the lid shut tight,
Wary of being granted my wishes,
but always with a twist,
I promised myself I shall not ask.

Oh, how foolish was I,
she escapes every night,
the astral apparition,
comes dancing riding the clouds,
moonlight streaming from her hair,
dew drops dangling from her eye lashes,
lips soft like rose petals,
fingers like a painter’s soft brush,
she caresses.

Her breath like a soft breeze,
scented celestial, sensuous,
Softly I moan and try to embrace her,
to hold her tight to my chest,
my body burning with desire.

Gently she wiggles out and coos in my ears,
how dare you bottle up your heart,
and keep me away,
As I lament
another wasted night.

Flames of Desire

When the shine of first bloom of youth melts away

Bees buzzing around for a drink from the fountain fly away

Eyes searching the blue skies for mates yonder becomes earth bound

Graceful swan neck bends down weighed by age and can’t look up

Look no further to rest your head and soothe your bruised ego

For I am that lover whose bed is built on feathers of eternal hope

Breathing life in wilted petals dried between the pages of book of love

An youth spent on waiting for one glance, one little smile

Because my love, even aged, you are that celestial jewel who

Still carry the fire to lit the flames of desire in an old heart

 

Beauty of the Heart

When your red cheeks shamed the setting sun

And filled me with desire as I called your name

As I drank from the overflowing cup of your love

Never for a moment thought of the day far, far off

When the setting sun would still set the sky on fire

Colors would not paint your cheeks red as you grow older

But the glow in your heart would still fill me with desire

And the beauty of your heart, my darling, would keep me inspired

 

Love is All That Matters

Darkness pitch black
Soft touch of
Exploring fingers
Quivering lips
In loving quest
Flowing warmth of
Burning desire
Exuberant thunder
Of deafening silence
Flowing through
Bursting veins
In that moment
Of ecstatic rupture
A fire was lit
Still burning
Over all these years
Lighting the path
Amidst the abyss
And mountains
In the end
Love is all
That matters

Vagabond (লক্ষ্যবিহীন পথিক)

I wrote this poem on Christmas Eve morning while having my breakfast. Everybody else was still enjoying their Saturday morning nap.  I wrote the poem first in my mother tongue, Assamese (Axomiya) , and then translated to English.  Posting both versions here.


 

লক্ষ্যবিহীন পথিক

নাই কোনো অভিযোগ
নাই কোনো অভিলাষ
নকৰো হাবিয়াস
ঘাত প্ৰতিঘাত
ভাল আৰু বেয়াৰ সংঘাত
জীৱনৰ নাই কোনো হাত
হেৰাই যোৱা অতিত
অনাগত ভৱিষ্যত
সকলোতে মোৰেই হাতৰ ছাপ
অনাহকত জীৱনক কৰো দায়বদ্ধ
জীৱন নিজৰ পথত
বাট হেৰুওৱা
লক্ষ্যবিহীন পথিক মই

Vagabond

No complaints
No expectations
Sans desire
Bumps and bruises
Constant struggle between
Good and evil
Life has no hand
On past long lost
Nor on coming future
Everywhere I look
See my imprint
Life not responsible
For anything
Life on its own path
I
An aimless vegabond

Within

Within our hearts there is a place hidden
Protected well from ourselves even
That’s the core pillar of who we really are
Sooner we find it, we shall know us better

Within ourselves the moment we are born
All is clear, pure and all is clean
Surroundings fill us with garbage and dirt
Upto us to again make it clean and bright

Within us have strength to forgive and forget
Finding our true self, we shall be brave
No need for any preachers and healers
Find ourselves and we can be leaders

Within our hearts we can find love again
Compassion for others, courage to befriend
Extend helping hands to the downtrodden
Welcome others as sisters and brethren

Within us we have the resolve for freedom
We have the aptitude and we have the wisdom
Deep inside all of us burns the same fire
Peace and prosperity for all is our desire

Within our core is truth and light
External world blinded our sight
Close the eyes and search deep inside
Let our true self be shining bright


 

 

Week 10 of My Fifty Two Weeks Journey with “W”

Write Anything Wednesday 4-6-2016

My Morning Jaunt

Sight of expensive automobiles on a driveway ignites desire.

My morning jaunt
Past your driveway
Adorned with
Beamer, Bentley, Benz and Cadillac,
(Why the “C”;nod to patriotism, I suppose)
Stone statues silently guarding
Empty porch and closed doors,
No sign of life.
Night spent on earning luxuries?
Maybe you are out
Driving your Bugatti,
Enjoying life.
Need to hike few more miles,
Sweat out the unholy desire
Creeping up my heart.
Maybe my runny nose
Will drain away the dirt,
To be back tomorrow
On my morning jaunt
With a calm heart.