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.

My mistress, till death do us part

Away, come away:

Empty your heart of its mortal dream.’ – W.B.Yeats

Seducing me at every step

From the moment of grand entrance

Alluring mistress are you

Promising to keep me company

Till death do us part

I fell into your trap many a times

Weak of mind in moments such

Seduction irresistible to come away with you

Dreams of afterlife, mysterious unknown beckoned

How must you be disappointed with my betrayal

But my sensuous mistress you did know

I have promised myself to someone else

To life, with all the sufferings and pain

I have promised my heart and soul

And when the time comes, as promised

I will leave this body to you

Till death do us part

My mistress

You are no mystery to me

I embrace you with open arms

Death, my eternal mistress

Let me go away on my terms


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Thirteen