The roses on your palm

feel like painted figurines

draping from your veins

So blue with hopes crusted over

I’m waiting for the dream light

to melt them

Or freeze like tangible ice-lollies

to lick or glide between my lips,

while a song is sung

between you and me.

So beautiful, this life

between you and me.

4/08

To My Painter

So vaguely transparent

those canvases you draw on,

How do they absorb the sense

of your hand

better than I,

breathing at the touch of

your palm-lines.

The rolling colour, creates

pathways,

You never imagined.

but I, caught in the crease of your

brows,

have seen them unraveling,

like streams of light

on festive nights.

feb 08

I had not considered

the vastness of your imagination

Could feed me, thus…

to imagine you laughing

caressing the

soles of my feet.

Summer and Winter

1.

Simmering whimsically,

the bubbles pop and dance

like rainbows against the summer sky—

stunned, you watch

as though you exist

as them—

I wish the bare trees would flower soon,

I would pluck the blossoms

and place them on your cheeks,

watch you blush…

2.

Sickle breasted hillocks,

merge and expand—

like you breathing , on a dark winter night

Mornings quiver with excitement,

like fresh napkins hung out to dry

in the cold January breeze.

Seizing a clump of wet earth,

I watched her regain her

feeling

for the grimy , the sodden,

the textures of disgust.

FEAR

breaking cast

fearful, she opens her eyes

for once

daring love

to pass her by.

what of that? the canary flutters

whimsically,

at the tune of a finger plucking time.

fearful,

I raise my face

to his level.

all I find is himself.

and me,in his scarlet eyes.

I want to close me eyes.

VICTORY

I am dirty

like a rag dipped in green turpentine

full of bottled dreams

bottle blue

neglected, the pins lie scattered all over my floor

but you lie just across

the floor,

casting your fiery hair over the jangle of clutter

till, I am swamped by your scent, as strong as an animal

twisting my muscles in pain.

hated one, my enemy, my fantasy

smashed

into me

by me.

1.SUSPENDED

Peculiarly windswept,

neat tombs stand arrayed,

and shun us away

Yet, deeply

in the lines of her eyes,

they mystify

they deepen the lust

for the dark

And yet,

so much remains

unsaid, undreamt of

Replete with exhaustion,

the days carve on,

like stitches through our destinies:-

And we remain

suspended, transfixed

in the streams flooding

us.

2.SEEKING

Cast between apprehensions,

I am often left

like a quotation,

hanging from nowhere, really—

Ostentatious thought muffles me,

in paradigms de rigueur,

and clutches tight at my waistband,

precariously:

Topsy turvy, elsewhere naught,

bind me between your elbows

and leave me whimpering,

Shall I find an answer then?

or askance, yet

the drooping bows

of moonlight

Shall choose to slither away

Unknown?

3.A BLESSING

I held aloft an evening whisper

And heard it fade into your chest

Now I wait

for it to recover,

to rebound

into my hollowed palms

like a blessing from your

turning tongue.

Per day, every night

and every accosted faith:

Is like pearl laden eyelashes

as though crusted with tears,

as though centered on the notion of the self—

and frosted—the windowpanes, the

glass on the door, and

the lips

Caked with sweat

of unbroken thoughts--