On road
The rain came
Like innocence
By Her so much blessed
That me felt
She as if
Caressing me to sleep,
On road
Glasses with pearls blurry shone
And me thought
me rode an empty silent road
Only those drops
Falling like slow
Soft visions demur evoked
As if me did not ride
As if the road a music derived...
Eternal,
Motionless,
Like a motion so peaceful
As if me got full
Into Her serene
Like a moist cream...
And dreams...
They came like a trance,
A sleep...
O You...
The Divine...
Now that You have printed
Your white so blessed
On soul
away me flies...
Catching Your heavenly Light
So rainbow of my heart as You colored
Retouched...
As if me be
A broad spectrum...
Light broken awesome
So so wholesome...
And me finds
Manger,
a barn...
Straw laden...
Simple
Candid ...
And
A rest there to take
There me lies...
Away away more as me flies...
Perhaps a violin tune there gives birth
Of a moment so clean...
Bathed...
Perfumed...
As if You there forever wait
For me
Like a dream,
O
Mother Holy mine...
loving You is like taking the road more
Where She does always pour
Her most beauteous state
Where pink and red
Get properly placed
As if a dress...
An adornment
Twilight worn
As if life traveling like a birth borne...
Loving you is like feeling more
How the air cool whispers songs
On skin...
Through hair how You blow
Dreamy escape
To another scape...
A twilight zone...
Loving You is like always on song
Catching velocity
Of light as if
Bringing in the Unfelt of All Charms...
A Spell Magical...
A potion of Blood...
So true...
So true...
Love like river
As if flowing down hills
Plateaus, plains,
Rainforests dense,
Caves,
Iced lakes,
Desert sands ,
This twilight flows
As if a tune never on
In any juke box
Or radio ...
Love like a river
Carrying everything,
Down the cliff
To the banks of green,
This evening
Flows gently within
As if a flow me be
As if the flow is always meant for the sea...
The blue,
The salt,
The green,
The deep,
The wide,
The origin of life...
Like a sky
As if in midst of rains
Like a bed so covered by satin white
Like Jimmy Reed not known
Yet like a song known...
A tune me sees in her eyes
As if She there
Had with her a converse
To plant in her urbane ears
Tune silent sizzling kind
As if it drizzled there
In her soul
Like a cool
Of a pool
Calm
So full...
Brimmed
To the extreme
As if Nature green
There emoted non verbal communicate
As a leaf does oft
Being blown by the breeze...
Like that
Connect
Silent
Holy
A plummet
me sees joy
How songs generate
Cool...
Like Dusty,
Yet a Spring,
A golden radiance
Of a deified sunny beam,
You cometh
Like an Unseen of a Comet,
Daylight
Following Your path
Nights tailing Your supersonic light
As if speed like a fountain on erupt
Of never felt joy,
And me just stares
At Your Deep Blue Eyes
As if that stare is my only way
To know how life sways
To be breeze, wind, seas,
As if that is my only object
To be a movie, a retake never taken,
Yet a clip going on...unbroken,
Like a tune...
A Springfield...
Sometimes like an Eva
A life
Latinised
You come like A Bridge
Over troubled waters...
Sometimes like a song
A mother of life,
Like aqua,
You come all over
To a flow in me ,
originalise...
As if birth
Of a river within
As if life blooming inside
As if faith and trust like Her
The Mother
Blooming again...
Loving you dear
Is like loving your art
Your blue ink
As she flows on white
Your writes going on
Like a churn...
Forever,
Loving you dear
Is like loving your many lives
As your blue
Writing happy moist few
On my soul
Flooding the cupcake
With sweetness never found...
Loving you dear
Is like living life fair
With art of me
Living the same
As if living with you in many names...
Wish me
Like a Gabriel could see
Your white silky trace,
Your spanish songy face
Your renaissance
Your Leonard
Your Art
Your Revolution Taipei
Your joie
Your real classic design
Your blue white red pink lines...
Wish me
Be
A Gabriel kind
Of a city Spanish
To conceive-
Your finesse
Your courir
Your coiffure...
Then
me could have
Painted the whole world
With you...
As if me
Covering all emptiness
With Your sublime,
Your real unreal abstract signs...
And as me looked straight
To her eyes
Full of tears
Grim and gay,
She in her said
'Nothing...'
As if being Nothing was her state
As if her teary eyes had only nothingness...
And me
Looking at Her
Void...
Emptiness
A no thing less
Found Spatial Time and timed space,
Mixing like a wine
Red
As if her
Nothingness
Of a void
Had alloyed
me,
my exist
my entries
my exits...
With her;
And then
A song unheard
Heard me
Within
Generating
As if the song
Coming out
Impromptu
Had my nothingness,
Expressed...
Your last breath
Saved my soul
Like being saved
From all storms, hurricanes,
Like Lisa
As You came
Like a pledge to God,
This calmed cool moist songy golden morn...
As if You have there on my lips
Dropped your pledge
Your last breath,
And ...
me sings
Songs of Your Love
Your songs as practised by doves...
As if this life is all about finding You...
Your silence as beauty prominent held in morning dew...
Your last breath
On my lips
Saved my soul...
This birth of a morn
Like a calm
On Your palms,
Carries a feel
Of never ending...
As if Rihana
Threading like She
An Unseen Galaxy...
Immaterial
And so real
As if in your eyes
me sees the birth of skies...
Skies bluish like a song
Like never being alone
And yet so lone
As if they be
Goddess true...
Reaching to the source of all blue...
This birth of a morn
Is like kindness
Spreading like Your whitish gold a dress
Worn for an occasion
To make an unlearn
Of all learnings
As if like photographs clicked in a series
You Unmake
time's little steps,
To make bigger strides
To Hope
Like a smiling joyous Sunrise...
This birth of a morn
Is so Christ like
As if the sky like
A wavy breath
Drops only care
And Love of The Seer...
Like He in white
Quiet
Dropping His awesome
His overflowing generation
Of Golden Heart...
As if all dust and dirt
Have been swept away long
And only His songs
Like psalms have been left
To fill souls forever...
To wash us like a Flow...
To bathe us like Pure...
Like a miracle
Whence She came
As if a tune
Left in the teary wet
Of a breeze,
me from far
Heard her
Cry...
As if there in the watery flow she lied
Her most pure
Her all adore
Her omniscience
Her moonless shines...
Like a Miracle
A tune like
Whence She came
As if a river
Left in music pure
Of a breeze,
me from far
Felt water
Flowing down
As if her happiness
Knew no bounds...
As if there
In the tune itself
She her self bared
Her Happiest
Her Best poesy graced...
Her whitest
Her most Sublime rest...
And me
Just bowed
To Her
Miracle...
As if me rowed,
A tiny country boat...
To her...
From far...
Some moments are like a flow
Of a swim, constant
Pulling in all muscular strength
As if the swim is meant
To struggle against all odds
For some moments become a swim
As if the swim is the rivery flow kind,
Of a struggle to find
Where one has left one's shore...
And how far can one swim more
Amidst all odds...
For when river calls
There is no turning back...
No slightest slack...
No muscular lack
Of flow...
No panting...
No huffing...
No weariness...
For when the river calls
There is no turning back...
(Note:~ on someone swimming across a stormy river, to meet his ailing mother...)
Seen you
As a woman in white
Sitting quiet
Perhaps a springy light
Upon your shoulders
Gleaming of a light
And a book in hand
Held...
At a verandah
In flowing white
Your skirt
Blue
And left shoulder strap
Careless...
As if you
Submerged in your blessed
State
With a book
Of a kite,
Your eyes glued
To writes...
And the light
Lit up your face
As if you in the book
Traced
The words which tended
Softest glow
Upon your brows...
As if Picart
There painted you fair
Caught in heavenly lair...
An italian sonata like...
Seen you
There on the stone slab
Sitting quiet
Under the springy light,
And near you,
Up close
By your feet bare
Seen how roses bloomed
Eternal...
Like Her
Janis
Like a counting beads girl blue
mine
Is she counting too
The fall of ether as moist dew
On her?
All over
Like a Lover
Ethan like...
Is she counting time
As rains drop on her?
Falling like time
All over
Like a Lover
So true...
Little girl mine
Blue blue
Is she counting watery beads
Of the dew?
who am i
To know that?
She knows it all,
Does She not?
How on her pot
Time sends his
Siblings small
As a rainy moist dewy songy Joplin
Of a fall...
She knows...
me knows not...
{Note:~ on a song by Janis Joplin...}
Imagine
Dear
you are x
A kind
Of a dot
And me say
y
And we both lie
On a plane
Dimensional third
And a fourth added
Say
Small time...
Imagine
We both shine
In our own ways
In a third dimensional space
With time added
As another component...
We both are non static...
Moving sliding gliding falling rising
And our own times...
They just follow us...
Still
Like dots
Held
Captive in a 3d space
We get
A connect
By waves,
Your Holiness
Reaching me...
By the trembles
Of the air...
And mine too
Reaching you...
Time wise
We both are held
In a small space...
And Big brothers of the two
The Space infinite
And Time too
They bear just
A witness
To our waves
Spread
As if a connect
So Holy,
Ain't it?
So pristine...
Like Divine...
Imagine
Dear
We both
Dots just...
In a 3d space,
With a fourth added
As if time playing a dream sequence...
Some monsoony evenings
Sing love songs so pure
As if they lure me
To reach out
North
South
East
West
Like a breeze
Set in motion
As if unleashed
With the sprite
Of a blue bird on vertico-horizontal flight...
A swerve...
And dip...
A rise...
As if life
Is just a superb glide...
And see?
Can't you dear?
How sans fear
Or mindless cares
me flies,
To catch
The wind
Where meets the ocean...
As if Him
Sleeping...
The most cool
The most blooming state...
As if a place to be
A dream...
Seen oft
Like a drop
From the sky...
Blue
Greenish...
A scape...
Of speed
On wet...
Got wings to fly
Haven't i?
This blue grey white dreamy breezy life...
This field motherly
So caringly soft...
As if like dreamy and so freedom like...
This windy gate
me gets
As if you have chosen
A jazz
Like flowing breezy a phase
Of silver...
Blowing full
Grown
As if You have already sown
Rings
Bell like
Ringing soft
Holding me aloft
Like a boy
An act of perfect joy...
And
By doing mirth
As if You giveth
Birth
To the Cause
And all reasons
Rhymy kind
Of this flowing rivery songy jazzy life...
As if
Silvery bells
Ringing quiet
As if a Vision diamond like,
A sparkle,
Hope,
Miracle...
By
You.
Seen them
Haven't i?
Through a woody trail
As if guided by a spell
Of being Free
Within
Finding their mothers
Nature
The Green
The Deity Supreme
The Joie
Of all hearts,
Seen them
Have i not?
How bitten by hoofs raising dust
And an insatiable of The Last...
Through a woody trail...
By green and white so graced
As if it snowed there
Last winter
On that now pleasant green...
Have i not them seen?
Through the rocks
Climbing
Descending the same
Their attitude
An imprint
Of their
Mothers so true...
As if Bluest of the Blue...
Seen them
Have not i?
Through eyes
Never seen
As if traveling small
Of the Life
So Big
So so long...
Like creating music of their own
As if they themselves owned
The woods...
A paradise
On earth kind...
And being blessed
By Her
As if a Hill,
She getting into her full
As if the rise of lotus
On fullest bloom,
And
me hears
her uprise...
As if a hill
me sees and feels
Her The Hill
In her
Causing a rise...
As if a sunrise
Happening
Within...
And
Also the smell of pink
The Lotus on bloom
In her,
Spreading as if
Lotus pink be
comes the morn's air...
Moist dewy misty foggy...
As if she has gotten right
her another birth
Alight...
(Note: on a song by Lauryn Hill...)
Whence She in her
From up above a Paradise ,
an air
Falls ,
She when fills every part of her skin
me finds her
Singing nightlong
As if stardust falling upon her...
her soul,
her loved heart...
'Look what you've done to me...'
she sings ethereal
she touched by the blue
And like ice,
Set afire sings
Night long
Like a minstrel
By a lyre
Singing
Pouring her all,
her soul
As if bare...
And...
me just her finds
Singing burning bridges
Bushes and hedges
As if she has run
The terrains all
The hills, the plains, the wild,
As if she has run the distance forty thousand miles
By the air...
Smooth...
Singing a fiery soothe
'Look what you've done to me...'
And me sees
Her Flight
To the Light
In her...
Like James,
A single
Like a 'bonfire heart'
Him me finds
In my hearth...
O what a way he
A friend like James
Blunt
Sharpens me,
my heart
As if sparks
From my hearth
Shelley like The God
Once again sought
Light
The Luminous
The Bright...
And me sees
The birth of blue seeds
On souls everywhere
As if James
Blunt
Sets afire
A light
Like bonfire
Everywhere
A singular hopeful air...
Blowing
Flowing
Inboxing
me...
{Note:- on a friend's, James Blunt's single , 'Bonfire Heart' , to be released soon all over Europe...His music and lyrics me got in my mailbox...thank you James, may you spread,}
Some wakings are like
Words failing
To be as expressive
As the moist green leaf
Bathed by blessings...
and me staring close
At her sleepy wakeful pose
Wet drenched like a refresh...
As if the leaf all night prayed
For Her...
Her innermost, innocent deepest
And so the Rains
Like Neptune's daughter has cometh
With Her shine
So softy, blurry, light,
As a wakeful calmed sight...
And me seeking Her
Finds
The greenish leaf
Dropping constant
By her ribs
Dewy shines...
On the streets...
O how The Leaf
As if
A haven in her spread
Caught absolut
The Mellowed,
The Most,
The Moist,
Drops by her tip
Dewy shapes,
Incessent like music
Painted inherent...
Like a night
As if a tune soulful
When the night such a tune still becomes,
You come so so soulful
As if me sleeping
Sings a song unsung
As if singing me
A song blessed be...
Like a night ,
As calm
Of Her moves unchained ,
drops of Bacchus forms,
Like a paint on a wet canvas,
me lies on a foamy layer...
And tune
So soulful the night then becomes...
As if a swoon
Then the shine on leaves sings,
'Vous venez en soiree soul...'
Whence You keep
me so asleep
me remains
The most awakened
As if you have for me sent
Nyx, the Mother of Hypnos...
O how dying dyed Lethe wards
me sleeps in your unfelt felt dew,
And me gets awakened the same
By You, the Mother of Oneiroi, a dreamy Dame...
And that river Lethe wards me by You as if swims
O how you cast your gold on me as dimmed light dims...
Whence you Mother like a myth
On me falls like as a layer of mist,
me falls asleep comforted in your soft, The Lap,
O how You keep me in Your nightly dress enveloped...
Evening
Traveling non stop,
This lullaby like
You as come,
On Your bosom weary me wishes to lie...
As if a Brahms
Casting a shadowy cool
As if those leaves yours wetness on my soul drop full...
And O You
So Mother like
Run Your fingers through my hair so wet
And Your soft caress
Spreads all over...
As if from Up there
Like perfumed flower
You choose a descent
On me like a mother late
Evening kind of a sense...
And see
Can't You the Unseen?
How me dies
Just on Your bosom lain like a child?
And Brahms
As You
Sing a lullaby kind,
the sleep comes so to You me bind...
On road
Her me anticipates...
As if her
Pitter patter
Happening somewhere
To me the moist breeze
Like claire voyance carries...
And on my blue
Like paints written in soft dew
Seasons cause like flowers
Blooming like songs...
On road
O how she me dips
Into her moist wet glossy perfumed lips
As if me gets electricity within
And sublime rhythm
Also as if a divine connect happens
As if Her
In pitter patter
distant me lands...
And on my blue
Like drops of evening moist renewed
Watery flow draws sketches...
On road
She thus
In multiple forms pass-
Like a trance
A motion motionless...
A faint light trace
Of Her shiny face...
Finale` is just a tune
Dear,
Just a tune
Perhaps a swan song...
As if Chopin
Reeds upon His godly fingers dancing...
As if a C sharp...
Never a dirge though...
Or an elegaic note stretched
To match His Limit
Of Limitless
The Unmatched...
Finale` is a tune Just
As if lust
For more
Of downpour...
As if a submerge
Full
Bared
Into the primary
Of being free
From all
false...
As if being
In a state of a perennial Fall...
An Epitaph never to be written
But written sure
With the golden caligraphic hand,
His Hand...
Finale` is a death just
As if lust
For another birth...
Recycle...
Going from one time
To another...
Like a feather white
Flowing,
Blown away
To another space
After a journey made
A transcendence...
And She
Turned her so blue
As if like a picture painted on dew...
Aha, she turned me blue
So as if the colors joyous motionless a potion fluid
Became...
And me canned that
As if me gotten chance ...
To be dipped once
Again,
Afternoon post rain golden sunset whence painted...
Before occhio della mente...
And me bended
On knees full
As if bowing to
Her divine
Her knowledge
Her Gita
Her Holy charms...
Like a summer haze
As if reborn by surprises
Of glorified golden days
Bound by You
Adele like
Blessed...
me finds streets rained
Rivery silvery songy generated...
And songs mellifluous
Flowing like a sense
Keeps me flowing as if Unknowing
Knowing the same...
And Adele like
me finds raised
In summer springy monsoony misty haze
Bound by You
Always...
times of All Time,
chimes of All Chime...
Morn this
Carries wet moist kiss
As if She
Blowing
Like a cool breeze...
Flowing...
Morn this
Like a music rarely missed
Carries tunes recurrent
As if xoxo current,
Morn this
Is still
Like calm,
Post heavy rains
As if she carries airy balm,
Like forgivenness
Like a true essence
Of seeing the Seer,
Of meeting her
Like a river
Braided
Unhindered...
Down
The ages
From a sarovar
As if a rediscover,
A rebirth...
Reincarnate,
Like a bless blissful
A dream undreamt,
A gold,
A silver,
A fate...
Seen You
In desert storm
And also in hurricanes,
Seen You
In golden fields of corn
And so so happy wavy against the blue,
Seen you
Like a dance, a tune,
Seen you
Like a sand dune...
Like a Goddess
In dance
Eternal
Ethereal,
Seen You
In folksongs,
In dialects unknown rural,
Seen you
In Venice cloud
Seen you
In November,
Seen you
There
Like a village fair,
Happy, rustic, by gold drenched,
Seen you
In faces starved,
Dying soldiers in the trench...
Seen You
Like a vision
An aim of an arrow set in motion,
Seen You
In Neptune color
In printed unpublished hearts so bare...
Seen You...
There
O Goddess fair,
Seen You
Everywhere...
In our arrives
In our departs,
Seen You
In roads parted there,
Seen you at
Level crossings
Seen You
In morn's musings...
Seen You
In temples,
Mosques,
Seen You
From dawn to dusk...
Like a Yamagata
The rain came,
From ten
She danced and wailed...
Till She broke all chains...
Like a wish
She came
And a flood minor
There happened...
Like a lyric
She came
As if July end
She chose
To give lemonade to all...
And also
Like Rachel,
A
Yamagata
True,
She sang
For betterment,
For shelters ,
For cozy fires,
For health,
But She rained her rains
Heavy so
For four hours without stop,
As if she danced, and sang and cried and sobbed...
That city got full under water...
O she rained heavy her rains so,
Boats now me sees on streets row...
Like a Yamagata,
She came so...
Following She
As if glee
Setting in
a Serene...
A silvery gleam
By light
At a time of the night
me hears
A song
Again
As if life thus
Prayer hall be come
'you will be allright...'
me sings
For the dark
To be dark so
As to become
A soar...
A spark...
And light
Bestanding
me sees
As Agape,
Like happy overwhelming escape,
Calling on
Small brief times
As if to inspire more
Shines
On the street...
As if Selene...
They all suitably become...
They all...
Be
Calmed...
And
Imagery of His
Sitting quiet like a soothe, a breeze,
Flows...
Just then,
Suitably,
Like dreams ...
Closing eyes
As if stringed,
Free
as if untied,
Loosened...
Like a song...
A chant made
By mind
You me hears
Like a Burnt Mars
Across the night sky
So rained...
A Mars
A burnt reddened color of brick,
As if galactic
You me hears
Across the night sky
Cooling every time...
And spreading too...
As if You
The String
Free...
As a chant
Borne light...
And
me counts
The days turning nights
And nights being morns
And morns being noons
And noons becoming evening croon...
All...
And
me gets printed by cutting edge
As if they are all part of deified clays,
O
How they be get
Songy
Like opening of a flood gate...
Small time
Of the Big...
The lying 8
A Loop...
A lemniscate...
So...
As it is raining still
And shadowy sculptures
On casements me feels
As if painting landscapes
Wet,
like a Zeeba...
An adornment of the evening dimmed
But shiny as a light
You
Image like arrive
A sight...
me can then only be
A zealot...
For You
Fated
Tied
Unstrung
Like a clarionet
Piped...
Sung
By the rains incessent...
And rains pour
More on soul
mine...
As if a reflect
Of the rains outside...
Like a Zeeba
As You the Bright
The Ethereal minstrel
me sights...
Rains be
your eyes...
As if happiness perpetualised...
A sunset tune
Sets in
Like a vast corn field
Glowing submerging into golden yellow
Orangey an ocean full of life, as if last
Tune settling down,
As if a breeze closing in,
eyes in deep entwines...
A sunset tune magnificent,
Like getting Her latin accent
Spelling a name mine unknown
Comes flowing like a tune lone...
And
How the twilight becomes a picture
Of a written unwritten scripture
Spread like a canvas of a song
As if painted by Her brushes colored long...
The mist
A layer as if
How beautifully evaporates
The scene of the cityscape...
And those streets, vapourise,
Those shops shuttered lie
As if sleepy hamlet descends
Right on the city lanes...
With mist foggy kind
Draping the pentup minds...
And memory disc randomised
Rotates to another rise
As if hills greenish with elms come
As if an Abbie there finds an Eben calm...
and how finds her words
Move sluggish as if towards
The metaphoric expressive earth
As if there is never a dearth
Of love erupting joyous under those trees...
Elms getting wet, drenched, in misty foggy...
And sees those lamp posts
As if standing with yellowish scope
Of brief luminous
As time small underneath them
like brook pass...
Heard You
Chanticleer
At a time as if clear
Waking me asleep
To cause me a plunge to the deep...
Heard You
French ink
As if to cause me fullest sink
Into Your wake up call
As if Daphne you a bell tolled...
And me cold , cold
De winter drenched embracing time,
Wriggled...
To life
As if
me took a scubadive...
And the road
The broad
Like Him
The Lord...
Calling Home
A sephulcre
As if a whitish greyish bluish Dome
Droned
me droned
Full...
And me hears
His knock,
(As if me boat anchored, docked
To Him,)
His light feathery Unheard,
(Charred,
By Burns,
Set on fire,
Rose etherised...)
As if eternal
Of being
Latent,internal,
A waited,
Awaiting
Drones...
More...
From up above...
To get ringing ears...
To get droned...
As if Going Home.
This afternoon,
Cloudy rainy,
Drops falling on me
Overpouring
As if She has cometh,
Her rains growing plants
All over me...
As if birth of a life
Green genesis songy a drive
Down the tracks to the limit
Following blue grassy seeds
To the Limitless gold where She me leads...
Causes a taken back feel
Deep within
And also
Without as if
She
Has cometh
For me
To take me
Back...
Following the track
To peace
And Her
Gold,
An abyss...
Of different kind.
Sometimes like
A passage of a day
Blown by the winged gay
You me come a flight
Higher deeper genuine like a bower
Of heavenly peace as Love
Of a white swan...
Sometimes like
A passage of a day
Blown faraway
By the magic of the Unfathomed
you like a rest come
A cool superlative phase
As if a songy passage
Like Her omniscient omniphotonic Love
Of a white dove...
and me
Becomes
A passage
Of a man turning slow a sage
As if a phase
Cool
Like a Call of You...
Becomes...
Just...
Born like havana
Between time and Time
How you in me evoke
A drizzling feel...
As if a slow dance
At a ball room
So red and white...
Floored
me as if you
In me lay gentle strokes
Of a tune...
Havana kind...
Accompanied by bass rhythmic
Padded soft,
At intervals symptomatic
Of the tap on wood...
As if a rhyme so non hyperbolic...
Born like havana
As if Santana
Between space and Space
How You inceive
A longish murmur
As if a stream
Rippling
Down...
Continuity unbroken
As if Continuum...
Like that sure drizzling noon
A havana tap on wood, a rhythm, a tune...
A country green
Met me
As if satiety...
A pool so watery
As if deep within
And a calm overlapping
The calm restive scene...
And sitting by the pool filled
To the brim as if a soulful feel
me saw how trees did find
Their shadowy reflect on the pool's mind...
As if they by overhanging
Only more balmy beauty to the pool did bring...
And the breeze so moist flowery mild
As if carrying the innocence of The Child
Had a call of the far Unseen
Had the Feel of filled to the brim...
A country green met me
As if Never Felt, The Satiety...
Seen dear?
The silent night
Dying young thematic lit
As if a colored street...
Yellow orange green red
Umbrellas wet and colored dressed...
Heard dear?
The music slight
Dying godly, dying light,
As if a song of a dreamy slice
By melodious beauty found at Nice,
By the Master as if Christ...
Felt dear?
The cool air
Dying in peace, dying calm
As if a feel of The One , a Sum,
By the hair flown as if breeze
By the air moist so kissed...
O how She sings a song
Wishing all the way
Shades how She hath dyed
Cool air how She perfumed lied,
As if a Rachel singing all the way
As if wishes Her for me she in laid,
As if She hath wished a shelter from heat
As if She hath wished a cool breezy tranceful treat,
As if She hath heard known it all
As if She hath smelt the burnt leaves of Fall...
O how She sings a song
Wishing all the way
Shades how She hath dyed
Cool air how She in her flied...
This afternoon post rain
Has an eternal pure sense
As if Singing She drops her kind
Painting She drops her mind
And raining still for centuries
O this afternoon rains only hurries...
Paula as if singing rains
The paintings pure where drench
The deepest purest indifferent mind
The emboldened surest differently signed...
O this afternoon post so much of rains
Has how embraced a perennial dense
As if living small can only this way be made
As if living small can only this way be read...
Sans sharpnels biting blood
Sans bullet-wounds getting mixed with mud...
Like music flowing three sixty five
Like paintings borne every minute of life...
And the bell the gongs like the Sound
The Voice that me all the time bounds
Sends a tune like a tattoed mind
And me gets fully blind
By the tune
As dune waved waving transforming
By the wind flowing so sublime...
And me dreamy waking sleeping same
Gets flowing as if drained
Of all love cometh from Above
Of all hope to me bestowed...
And she me finds singing quiet
'Your smile tattoed my mind...'
The sky of this afternoon
Sings song, a tune
As if She has Been to this place-
With Her most moist blessed dew...
She the Sky
The Blue Flight
Greyed earlier
Still a sublime grey,
But blue and pink and white within draped,
Becomes so cool
By rainy pool,
As if calm sleepy
She hath made her drool,
As drools her little kid-
Sleeping child on the street...
And the street so breezy wet
She maketh that for dreams straight
Dreams hath She laden quiet
On the child sleeping right...
And those trees so monsoony
Carry tunes the same balmy
As if Peace hath made a descent
On space small filled by Her essence...
This morn
a church gate me reminds
And She in her flowing white-
A gown she worn
Running all the mud and slush
As if she had to meet Her August, a Rush,
And the little standing quiet
Under a tree mahogony
Like a white speck of her delight,
This morn rings a song
She running to find her son
Standing for her with a smiling light...
And she running through the street
To get there where she would meet
Her young her offspring
O how then the chorus did sing
A song like never being
Late to run to the church gate...
Twenty hours of minutes not too late
She me finds running to church gate...
Her white gown flowing wet
By mud slush getting smudged
Still me finds her
Running from farthest far
To the gate of a church
Where a blossom bloomed like August, a rush...
The screen whitish
As put up by Her
The rains so good so fair
As if a wash me takes
In Her cool calm shiny lake
As if me takes a bath
A Holy Holy Free Sabbath...
The rains so generative
The rains dreamy gigantic
Takes me to another time
To catch a glimpse of Her eternal Time...
As if space small all She merges quite
As if times broken She stitches by Her mellowed Light...
And causing a screeny misty rainy blur
She takes me to hills far
Where time just sits monastic
Where gongs sombre forever on ears stick...
Free like music painting a flow
She the rains with Happiness me bestows...
Diamonds like tears
Hanging moments like
From leaves, petals
Generate drizzling dreams
Like touched by Him...
And me sees
The birth like a river from ice
Like the birth of music reaching all skies...
Skies nocturnal at Atlantic
Skies blue by South Pacific...
As if diamonds
Hanging momentous
As if songs
Those time and space surpass...
Microcosm elevating to
Hold a bigger wider deeper larger view,
Diamonds like tears
Hanging moments like
From leaves and petals
Cause the birth of rivery flow
As if for us to show
How He the ever present sings songs
How He flows quiet genteel in us all...
Diamonds like tears joyous,
Hanging cool momentous,
Hold life magnanimous such...
Like tears all alike,
Like skies all the same...
Like a song
Meant for someone sleeping long
Came the rain this morn,
As if sleep She wanted to rob off
As if sleep she wanted to cause soft...
Like a song meant for
Dust to settle down
And for all those cries, wails and frowns...
Came the rain a bit prolonged
As if rain could only equate peace
As if rain moist carried bliss...
Like a serenade came the rain
As water She caused for pains
To go away flowing by the tide
As if She took the city for an Eastertide...
As if She meant a resurrect...
As if She with nursery rhymes life did correct...
Life She brought on life
Water as if She giveth sans strife...
As if rain She came with solace
As if She like rain bestowed a bless...
And aubade true like waking song
Rain She caused like a flow longed...
And the leaves trembling
Rustling
A song carried ...
As if
Tu es mon refuge...
As a Holy deluge...
(As songs are
Always borne far
By the wind and
The dying light
Of evening turning a Holy night,)
As the tune so blessed flew
Holding psalms written moist
On tiny palms watery salty taste...
me died a Happy death
As if a death so so musical
As if a death desired like the Fall...
With
Dry leaves leaving space
For more monsoony little dreams
As if replenished...
To meet the begin of a rest left unfinished
Like a poem new born dressed...
And the leaves rustled blessed
Carrying love like Limitless...
And the Mother
Seen Her
Have not i?
How She wrapped her
Son to her
As if She would never
Let any to clinch him
From her soul,
A protector,
A mother true,
Divine,
Holding on
To her son
As if Nature...
Elementary,
And so so full of Love...
True,
Non pareil...
And seen him
The son
How he comfortably sleeps
There,
As if there he finds
Only solace
And bliss...
Heavenly...
The streets of the city
Drenched
Wet
Swept
Had so many
Moments fleeting passing...
Children like prefects
Standing quiet
Disciplined
Tied
Neat
Too perfect...
And
Builds
High high
Like sculptures reaching to the sky
Had faces
On windows
Faces old
Watching monsoon gone by as if...
Faces young
In red
Absentminded
On balconies
Crooning songs like...
The city was momentous
But
The moment
Arrived
At the gate white
Of a church
Standing wet
Bright
Greco roman
Like ancient
Yet surprisingly
Unsurpassable
Like
That architect
Who
Once me whispered
On a green field
Wearing
A white tee
Having a sign
'Knowing ,
Is believing...'
Flying off
To catch then
The air...
Got the smell
Of You
A parfum
As if You had arrived long
Only me missed You...
As if You kept Your watch
Upon me
Like a guard...
As if You came and found me
Seeking you
In the crowd...
Fool like
O how You came
Parfum like
A whiff of pleasant air...
Volatile like ether...
Fool me
Then in crowd
Missed you
Missed You there...
Missed you
O like
Missing that ether
Dipped cotton
As if in Fragonard...
1926...
Seen You there
At the crossroad
Arms stretched
As if in chaos
You broke
By your superb silence
Like a light
In grey...
As if black
Does never You penetrate...
Seen You there
In pink and green
And white light
On your face
Working silence
Superb...
Like He
Coming all over you
As if you be
You...
In the midst of chaos
In the midst of city snarls
Unnecessary
As if you knew that whole landscape
Of the city
And where did the alleys and streets run
For the last three centuries,
As if that is Your knowledge...
That was...
That will be...
And like road
Loving life
Loving rains
She came...
She came right there
On my window...
Frosting shape
Blurry dewy cool as if a pool
Forming so monsoony
So soft
So dreamy...
And She came
Moist,
Wet wet
Much like the road grading
To be
A bird...
To
A
Be,
A
State.
Whence He came
Like light
Blinding
Taking away eyes mine
As if Love
Taking away all
One by one,
Making one
The true
The beggar,
me sings
In joy
As if love
Taking away all
Like a french song
Within
Silent
Like Loving Him
The Lord,
The Blind,
The Blinding Light
And The Seer the Best...
me sings
French
Like one Silvery serene voiced
True
Once...
' vous etes mes yeux...'
A spring breeze came
To wipe the watery tears of heaven
Like Eric Clapton,
As if she had the feel of monsoon dense
So,
A spring came like a breeze
To lay foundations stringed
Like flowers
Moving
Winding
Revealing
Pulling
As if knowing
And believing
How water in water lies
How breeze springy in monsoon dense
Leaves no dearth of life ...
As if
There can never be
Dearth of happy loving smiling flowing gyrating dancing evolving mind...
Like a song
Purely bohemian
She arrived
Like
Singing
Replicating
A freedom
Dreamt
But underachieved...
And me
Once getting into the deep
Of Her Divine voice,
A tune full of joys,
Just experiences a meltdown
Loving the road
Loving life...
And loving Her
The bohemian
Of a traveler likewise
A rhapsody pure...
A lure...
As if that has always been Her proper Self...
The Best...
The Uninhabited...
The Rise...
The Fountain...
The Mountain...
The Sky...
(Note: remembering Freddie...a mercury!)
This road
Of the morn
Like a soft light born
Transmuting a life
To lemniscate...
Lying eight
Kind
For the morn is transcendence...
With Silence married
The road becoming longer...wider...better
As if suitably
A Deity
A Glory
As if Bigger one
The Life...
Aha!
What else can one do?
Other than being drenched in wet and dew
Of Holy sort
A birth recurrent
In this life so so short...
And
me just glides
Like Her
The River
Awesome
So flowing Eternal
Like music heavenly,
Like Peace everpresent free, untying,
Like serene flowing meandering happy by Her own...
This road
Is such...
A flight
To the sunrise
Behind temporary
Always
Beyond rotations
A perennial motion ,
Emancipating
The brighest,
The lightest,
The purest,
As if
Lying eight
An Infinite...
Dear
Have you seen those drops
Of Life,
Water on leaves,
As if His
Grace
Falling
And filling?
Have you heard the Unheard?
Have you felt the Unfelt?
As if He
Has been shedding
His tears of Joy
Falling all over the place
Like His unlimited grace...
Like kindness befitting
Him
Leading
us to a different plane...
Dear
Have you smelt the aroma
Of Her...
Like flowers blooming with newer ideas?
Like a temple door opened to spread
The incense sticks burning red
Amidst pure the whitest?
Dear,
Have you noticed the fall of Drops
Of Life
As water
Like Grace...
Peace,
Hope,
Faith,
Agape...
So liberal,
So enchanting,
As if the inner rise
To a birth?
This waking up
Is like visiting a sea shore...
For winds carry salty smell like oceanic,
And the sky carries the dreams of boatmen
Returning home, sleepy,
As if they after the long night of hauling
Having a brief sleep, sitting on the bow, going flowing
By the tide Home like,
And those tall palm and coconut trees-
They are swinging in the free breeze,
Their happy minds get them to swing as if
singing, within, they together, a chorus,
Filled and made happy by the free sea breeze...
This waking up is Santiago going out to sea kind
Out of his shack, pulling his dreams together tied,
A radio transmitting weather report and a small boy, his friend,
Following him...
This waking up is like a voyage renewed
Watered, manured, refurbished, envigored,
As if Ullysses...
Calling in his friends to garner Hope and courage
To take a plunge to a new day,
A beginning
Again...
Of a life,
A time,
As if there is no indolence...
As if there is only voyage...
The rains must have left
Her moist on the street
For there seeing builds getting
Reflect,
A traveler walked,
As if the late evening walk
Was his only way
To get filled proper
To be swayed
By dreams
Drawing line sketches...
And colors filling in every corner and nook
As if the street drenched flowed like a brook...
The rains him made to take a walk
The rains gave birth to heavenly beanstalk
Reaching climbing all the way
To the sky
The Rains where resides...
And as a traveler
Riding Her Horse
The whitest of white,
The bluest of the blue,
She the Goddess dropped Her dew
Like a prayer answered in her
Usual Holy manner...
Not a single word did She waste
Not a small time did She keep unblessed...
And so sang the road
Again as if the rains
Writeups did send,
Writeups like french,
Thanking Her
As a prayer ...
The road sang
As if on wet poems
Got born...
Poems
Where souls sublimate
Images
Where
Kindness divine like trace...
Always.
Some rains are so joie filled
As if innocence she meets...
The rains this evening derive such
Happy drive down the wet street...
Innocence like poesy
O how like that brings
A bliss...
As if that more rains brings...
And
Images on watery screen
On puddles,
On ponds,
On lakes,
On rivers,
On oceans-
They happen
They just like innocence happen...
Like poesy...
Happening
Silently...
This green...
With breeze cool blowing
As if flowing
Has its own life
Reaching to music
Poesy on rise...
As if monsoon like a lore
Opens the door...
Of a Meghdootam...
As mousse...
And me gets flown...
Blown...
Like a chanukah song
Saturdays
Sundays
Eight nights and seven days
Three sixty fives
Fifty twos
Millions
Of dravidan hues,
You came Lord
Like a glitter in the dark
As if light hidden in tears...
Like a chanukah for all
Saturdays
Sundays
Eight nights and seven days,
You came whence
With rainy days
Happy glory descends
Like the breeze of the sea
Calm
Like psalms
On genesis
As if Life in Your chalice
You for us all keep sans malice...
Like a chanukah song,
O the Song
You Your Brightest Self
How You for us all delve
To unravel the Luminous,
As if You ring the Bell within us...
And hearing You the Splendid
me Her finds on a monsoony street...
As if You send her for me there
As if You have given her Your songy lyre...
A sailor kind morn
Sprayed
Water
On this life
And bossa nova rhythm me enticed,
As if Antonio Carlos
Was rewriting
A rhythm
Within,
A jazz and samba fused
This morn
As watery lake got en theosed...
And ripples of waves
By the breeze of the cool
Brought swans to bathe...
And the leaves to rustle...
And the silence overwhelming all din n bustle...
A sailor kind morn
On sea ,
A voyage-
To the distinct
Of an unknown preccinct,
Arrived...
Thus,
Like Antonio Carlos...
Dear
Have you noted on your strings
How the moisture brings
An unfelt feel of a calm, a cool?
As if born anew
A tune
There
By fingers Her
Getting generated?
Have you noted
The birth of an ascetic?
The seed of music
Weaving tales of monsoon in the wind?
Have you ever been to this state?
This heavenly wet
Of a song persistent?
A wonder of a day...
How She has that for all laid-
Always...
As if never even
Slightly out of tune...
As if She in you encapsulated
A perfume so french
That desafinado
Never can make you bleed...
Have you
Dear
Gotten that seed?
The primordial way to grow more...
The preordained direct,
Have you not gotten that downpour?
Within?
Like a birth of an inspire...
Like a birth of a dream...
he like a tourist
Looked at the rivery city
As if Venice
Had become the city known
So known yet
She had sown
Rivery flow
Like Venetian music red...
he like the Tourist
Getting kissed
By the inglorious matte finish
Of the day,
Recalled as if
HE fiddled with a dream
Of him...
A white boat
Tied by a string
Of hope
To a jetty...
And a dream
There waiting for him...
A venetian romance
Of music and wine...
Of windows opening to a city watery flowing fine...
Of a bunch of poems uncollected sprayed like Love of Her,
Divine...
And Venice like soothe
Became the morn, on shine, watery...
With the drizzle
The sea came
As if She had that drizzling seeds
Within Her on breed
To lay upon dreamy eyes,
To cause the birth of crystal bright...
And he
Thinking having a walk to the sea
Stood motionless
On the blue and the green
As if he had heard the cries of dolphins...
There
Right
There on the road
Where
The drizzle got played in sunny mode...
The morning road
Once taken
Promises bestow...
Promises to reach that prelude
Of the Song
Which one perhaps murmured long
Within...
Promises of trees growing to lend freshness of peace
To the space around so concrete...
Promises of Hope as a spread of balm...
Promises of taking into one ambrosaic tunes held momentary in palms...
The morning road has the coolness of a generation
Where love and peace concoct a divine potion...
To instill purity and innocence more...
The morning road only happy feel pours...
Like a bouquet...
She presents
Promises entwined
In the morning's beauteous silence...
As if silence holds the songs proper
As if in silence of the morn, dreams germinate in golden copper...
Like a curtain raiser,
A preview,
Of a musical
The night raises a devout idea
Of catching up with
a better view-
Of the silent inside
And hurly burly outside...
The night supernatural
Coleridgean
Draws pictures
One by one,
Like fancy
Interpolating imagination...
And with silvery moon
A sleep occurs...
A sleep of a wakeful soul
An awakening to deep sleep...
A weary state-
Worn,
Waiting to be born...
By rays of silver,
A blur ,
As if a music thought of,
Not put yet on papers,
But Simply kept
In memory...
Like a preview
Of a musical
Kept canned
With sticker
Pasted on the roll...
You are
Dear
Like a chord never found
And bound
me still
By You
Finds
Lines
On pages
Scribbling all the time
As if made a vow
To scribble you
All the way...
You are
Dear
Like a note unfathomed
Still anchored me boat
Finds thirst in your throat
Filling me
To feel how the evening
Transcend to a scene of the limitless
As if improbability
A possibility...
Like getting younger
Retrogressive
A move,
And older
Like George...
A black n white half lit cover
Of an album...
You are
Dear
Like a saxophone played on,
In every possible tense,
Past perfect
Present luminous continuous...
And
The evening
Can never be
More Holy...
As if karma...
The road was long
The road had always been long
Of this short span of life
Still songs road sang
As if on piano
The road became
Sir Elton John...
The road sang
Gifts of His songs
As The knighted Star
Evoked
Tears
On podium
And also
Outside in millions
Candle in the wind being blown out...
Doubtless
The afternoon had that being blown kind of a feel
As if it rained heavy somewhere...
But then
The road being long
Had other songs too...
Miraculous ones...
The songs of white swans
Flying happy like The Being
Be coming
Uninhabited...
Free
From all small meaningless
Cares which would perhaps leave no trace
After this small
Of space...
Of time...
Free
From all hassles
As if hassles would soon turn
Into a furnace on burn...
And ashes to all things
Possessive pronouns...
holdings ...
would turn...
The afternoon had a long road
And happy living on the broad...
As if broad the sky had herself stretched...
As if She had in Her the Best
Got blessed...
And Sir Elton John
Sang
As if on piano
'My gift is my song
And this one's for You...'
Sometimes
By Your gold draped
me gets born
Phaidros kind
As if you latin elements
In me pour...
And You
Phaedrus
Pass by
Philos
And Agape...
And
We talk
Ethereal
We talk silent
We talk taking bends of life
And the highway super
We run
Dipping
The dipper
Night roads
Daylights
Evening songs
Afternoon ragas...
We run...
As if bright
Illumed
Jocund
Mirthful
Monsoony
Dewy
Rainy
Iced
Fiery
Blessed
Eternal...
We talk
By silence
Going nearer to Him
And Her...
We glow
We burn
We by songs , songy fully become...
As if Latinised Greek...
As French too...
We grow
Like those tunes grew
Across those strawberry fields...
In me
Whence you
Reincarnate
Like fate
me becomes
A tree strong
Like a big vast branched
Long wide
And roots mine
Going to the deep...
In search of water...
Minerals...
In me
Whence you
Reincarnate
Like a wait
me becomes
A waiting room
Of a station lone
But big platformed...
And the timetable there
Shows no time
Only red dots
They blink forever...
In me
Whence you
Are born
me gets a birth too...
As if me got honey dew...
From You,
Surely from you...
And she
As a reader
A be
Eyes slanted
On the Holy book
As if
She has cometh
To her,
how she a She be...
A maiden fair...
And me
Seeing her
Becoming a reader
Be
A songy road...
A traveler true
As if a slide of a musical...
On show
Repeat mode
Auto drive...
O how me becomes Alive,
And she
As a reader
A be
Eyes on her Holiness
Changes the whole of a cityscape...
For those thorns
They me finds blooming soft...
For those dark clouds
They even allow
Light
To fall like shower
From up above
The golden gate...
Finding You by O Boonie doon
As if in red yellowish bloom...
Like a prayer of a bird,
Like a layer blue white mirth,
me sings You dear,
The silent ilka bird...
And rose too red woodbine twine...
Finding You on bloom
Early morn molten like a swoon
me suits a lightsome heart
As if for me you arrive and depart...
Finding You by O Boonie doon
As if in red yellow petals in full bloom
Like a prayer me evolves into a tune
O the rose of woodbine mine...
How me You with your silence entwine...
Sometimes
In desert sands
Whence storms rage
Causing one's eyes to shut...
You me finds
Playing mandolin fine
As if from far
You me send tune
To garner strength
To move more
To walk further...
Sometimes as early as predawn
You send me love songs
As if You the Being
The All Knowing
Standing there
Show me
Where to go
Which road takes one to the Blue...the Fair...
At quarter to three
There was no one
Barring you and me...
And the afternoon
Like a room
Filled like monsoon
Held in glasses two...
One red
And the other
White...
Both overflowing...
As if
At quarter to three
Just you and me
Were raising a toast...
And
By red
As one was drunk
In white
Other sank...
At quarter to three...
Outside a room monsoony,
The sky bloomed
To be
All blue...
Like a Silhouette dear
Dame mine
How You flowed in
To my soul
As the evening
Nascent feel evaporating,
Softly dimmed the sky
Above...
Below
me sitting
leaning on Your shape...
On a mat
Felt Your arrive
Like a watery dive
To the undersea
As if a birth of a glee...
me
Tuned to
Your Silhouette
Live up to
The moist dew...
Collecting...
On soul...
This rain
Intermittent
As she happens
Carries dreams
And flowery hope
Of more germination of green
And love like an upward slope...
A smooth glide
To land where no dreams ever died...
This rain
Intermittent
Carries songs
Of you waiting for infinite as if long
For me to turn at your door...
As if a boat through a gale reaching a destined shore...
This rain
Intermittent
Carries a take slow
Of life going with the flow...
As if living means no decadence, no pains...
This rain
Carries
You as the only pervading real sense...
After a long traverse
Like a solemn verse
Music whence Hers
like a chant
he felt within
Flowing,
The bridge of Brooklyn
Like a scene
Came...
And he
Thought
The battles,
The wars,
The hurricanes,
As if old foolish things
Pure nothing...
And
Her he did see
There,
Flowing from little Italy
Like a river
In blue and white and slight greenish tinge...
he stood quiet
On the orange rails
Resting his legs
And aching back,
As if by standing there
She could he feel,
Her eternal flow
Her shiny glow
Her italian accent~
As if an ascent
To the innermost...
The best blessed him...
There standing quiet
Like a man proper
Resting
Lit up
he her did see
Like a flow
A river
In blue and white and slight green...
Have you not seen yet?
The sky blue white golden?
And have you not yet
Felt?
The moisture in Him?
How Love like She Him dims?
Have you not smelt
How flowers Him dress?
Love like?
An Infinite...
As if Lemniscate...
Have you not got
The morn's love ,
my love?
How the breeze comes
From the sea with undiluted wet?
As if the sea has lent
Her bluish green depth
To the breeze...
O how me ceases
To be
An entity...
Never thought
At an hour so early
You would arrive such
With your gold,
Your blue,
Pink red all merged
Together
As if a rainbow
You,
On me how you did sew
A cool
Much like my waking up
And taking the road non stop...
Seeing you
Your blue
White
Adorned by light
Of a rain filled bow
me just bowed...
Feeling your shine
On skin mine
Like colored palette
me
Be
Colored too...
And from there
As You by your calm
Dropped your inner moist on my palm
me realised
How the Helios bright
In you exist
In forms of drops
Of water...
Watery drops...
Scattering
Breaking
White
Hundreds of prism like
Into colors...
Vibrant...
Like a rainbow...
She came to sit
By me
As if she had felt
The need
To sit
Just beside,
Her Pink fluid flowing
Out
Guided by Gabriel
And His star...
She came to sit
By me
As if she had felt
The birth
To cause
Just beside,
Her moves she paused
Guided by the silver
And Her serene...
And me
Dipped beforehand
Charmed by the Magic wand
Said nothing
Only
Sunk more
As if in so doing
He opened my bolted door...
And ...
At that moment precise
An epic someone wrote
On white pages...
Solemnised
By the mooned evening late...
Silvery
Velvety
A transcendental real...
Got written by
Slow Snow...
Songs You turn me
Everyday
Every moment,
Dreams You inspire
Without tire
Every second
Every mili kind,
And births do You give
To me
Like a surrender
And an awesome triumph...
Every minute
Of a deal
An ordeal-
Of life,
Of an unfelt
Limitlessness...
Felt on skin though...
And
On
Every part of me...
Turning
Me
Within
On.
This evening
Out side
Incoming
Like a rain
Within
Paints love
All over...
As if this living is
A state dreamt
And unachieved,
This evening
Out of a side
In coming
Like a breeze
Within
Sweeps me
Of all little shades dark
As if dark is non living,
And as if Blood shots are left unheard...
This evening
Outside like a canopy
Of lustre divinity so formed
In coming like stir
Within
Keeps me
Shaken and stirred
As if that stir rises a star
A glitter
A gleam...
And me
EVOLUTES
From tiny
To Life...
Like locus of the centers of curvature...
Redefined,
Refined,
Retuned,
A space curve...
O how You come
Like a sloka from Heart-
The Deep of the Core,
As if You were destined to bestow more
Upon my filled full satiated me...
O how You become a Garland of blossoms and leaves
As if Peace silent like a splendour You with me tease
And me just falls on my knees to kiss Your wonderous arrive...
O how me You taketh for a calm Faith filled Ride
O how me You turn a beauteous Tide...
And me by Your garland bedecked
Happy Happy State be gets...
And mirth becomes me in True the Deepest,
And joie me be in absolut bluest rest...
When as an evening wet
Drenched
Cooled
And by a veil transparent wrapped
You come
To envelope me by your fiery balm
As if by Your heavenly shape
You keep me draped...
Leave me there
Dear
Unawakened
By You so turned
Sleepy
Forever,
And burning too,
Forever...
Gelato sky
Isabel's
Sometimes
Arrives
Italian pure
To me cure
Of my Francis shape
And lure
me too
To fall upon her like dew
As if
Memory of a write up
Long...
Can never escape...
Can never leave mindscape...
And the evening
Cool blessed sleepy like a dream
Turns musical...
Mystic...
Transient
And
me faces a transmute,
Mute...
Silent
me runs
To people
Who might be there
By the sea...
at Villa communale...
At the bustle of the piazza...
O how me sees Dante there
Standing white
Under the spotlight...
Orangy bright...
When You are
Such a beauty fair...
Where
Could i go?
To which shore?
Are You not ever present
By Your blue and white?
Are You not ever knowing
By Your grace and calm?
Where
Can i
A limited tiny man
Fly?
When You have left
With a promise
you?
Your truest self...
Upon me
So kind...
So benedictory...
Caring...
Like a mother?
Another?
Blue eyed?
he stopped
After a long time
Father Mackinze where His
Compassion white dome like dropped...
For the city,
The altarpiece had on it
Colors shining bright
As if the seats got colory light...
Through the glass italian art
Jesus like joie spreading
In terms momentary ,present tense,
Took his glance,
And at the end of the majestic Hall
Silence where eternally fall
he noted Him
Under the light
His face
A bit dimmed
By the gravity of the situation...
Padre...
Mackinze...
Smiling soft to him...
As if him by His eyes He asked
'Where have you been?'
he
With tears of joy
Overwhelming
Knelt before Him...
His whiteness haloed the Hall
And he touching the floor
By his head fore
Murmured
'To You Father
To You...'
And
The wind so far blowing cool outside
Upon entering the Hall
Swept him,
Touching his sweaty arms
his tired aching legs...
he closed his mortal eyes...
Just then,
Song like She he envisioned
Somewhere wandering in a garden
And singing joyous Love...
In white flowing garment
As if she be
Came as a Dove...
Riding down
Purring low
Slow
Taking the moisture in
me arrives one morn
Near the stream
And following the water on flow
For a few miles...
A turn arrives...
A sweet turn of the little road...
A smooth country song like
There
She goes meandering
To the woods...
there is another godly exist
An exit
Route like
A banyan quiet...
Hanging her branches small
Upon the stream
As if she there plants her ascetic dreams...
Over the water,
me stops right there...
O a country song fair,
A little banyan
Branches her being swept and cleaned by monsoony fresh air...
And a stream, flowing flowing sans cares...
'Is it not the right place?'
me asks myself,
Taking in the moist
And the green green scene
Like a trance of a dream
Far far away from the bustle and the din,
As if city pent soul mine echoes happy
The woody tree's soulful life so sappy...
And
Getting down
The blue
me sits under the hanging rustling feel
As if me be comes
There
The air
The moist
The green,
And
desire
Under the elm
Kind
Country green song like me
Gets rekindled...
By the Silent...
(On a different beat though,)
On a differed varied beat
Of ethereal music
Sure...
Right one morn
A country song
Thus taketh me in...
Amidst the purest green...
Dear
As You
Want to burn bright
By Light
There is no dearth of light
Even at night...
As you
Become
Light
By choice
There is no end of joys...
And no end of times
And spaces
And dresses
And dreams
And love
Even if they are comparatively small...
But
As you
Want to burn in Hope
There is never ending scope
To be doped
In Agape...
The Purest state...
As you want
To be burned
To be light
The night
Is
A
Light...
Bright...
Bright
Todays
Yesteryears
Tomorrows...
Bright
Be
Always dear
Like light
As
Light
Is
Eternal
And
Like
A movie
French subtitled...
'Demain ne meurt jamais...'
Bright
The light
Be
Light...
This evening late
As draped by silver
On leaves wet
Turns up,
me gets
To that particular place
Where once
me found Her
Standing like a misty foggy shape...
Alluring snow white
An angel seeped in heavenly music of the hilly night...
And like a tape rewound
me just spreads my arms
Once cut off
Regenerated
By that flute of One
Playing soft in my ears
Carried straight to my soul
And a calmed full filled heart...
Me sees
A rise
Of a music
Again
Like a life never to be lived in vain
Ever...
Drenched by silver
And that angelic presence...
Unburdened
Buried
Untroubled...
At rest
At peace
As if
That mountain of peace
And Holy sombre
Maketh me
Remodelled
Reshaped
Reformatted
Remodulated
Again
Like
A life never ever
To be lived in vain...
Like a life turned glistening silver...
Knowing nothing
Yet like a lithograph
One picture
A bit blurry
Once you had carried
To the eastern shore...
One day of a morn
Whence it heavily poured...
Perhaps
That
Might be causing dreams
In you,
Amidst green
As you
Wandering
One time
In your lands find...
You
Caused
And
Caligraphed
Peace
In my heart
Such
That
Arms
me
Bids
Adieu...
You caused
Such
A mirth,
A cracker burst
Followed by quite a few
Within...
Bursting...
And
Setting in
Like a dream
O You
Catherine
You
your art for me
Eventually bring...
Like printed ink
Still warm, fresh,
Darkish blue,
On white
Paper
Handmade...
(On Catherine Barkley, a character of a fiction, by E. Hemingway)
The evening had a Ghalib
And on my desk you left
A memory aromatic...
A memory of roses
And jasmine
As if deliberate
As if that was your only choice
To plant a breed of poems
In me,
As if by so doing hypnotic
You me left unawakened
Yet woken enough
To see the evening
Slow sluggish rain drops drizzling kind
Descending from heaven...
The evening had Ghalib
And on my desk you left
A memory aromatic...
Stared for long
At fingers Yours
O how You played on reeds mine
Your fingers...
The pianist
At the aisle of the church...
A song italian...
Carrying sense
Of the sea so cool and yet so blue dense;
Felt for long sitting stoned
As if You your cool balm sent to my bones...
O how me final`e tune like died
Full...petrified...
O how You played on the reeds mine
At the aisle of a church...
Wooden floored
on shine...
And me...
Mutated to art of
Poesy...
And a speck of golden dust...
And music clear
Alike...
Once by You touched
your Divine
Like a sign
On the parapet...
And
The carpet white
Reddened...
How can me feel
The same
About anyone?
Knowing
This light
Is Yours...
Knowing you me pures
All the time...
By Your Love so white
Divine...
How can me be
The same?
About any thing?
Say?
Knowing Your breath
Imprinting
Love
On my soul...
How can me not pray?
To You
For your touch?
Say?
Sometimes
More often so
me turns non linear
by You...
me turns non linear
sporadic
On skin...
Feeling
Dipping
Sinking...
Like rain...
Your magic
Non horizontal...
As descends...
Onto my soul,
Sometimes
Like a multifunction
As You operate
me finds
Your Holy Holy State
Sporadic
Like rain...
August company yours-
An Independence
And
Interdependence too...
Comes like future
Carrying the essence
Of this life...
And me flows
In Your river...
A country boat...
Avowed...
By faith
And love...
Sometimes
you
The blue n white
Transparent
To me send
Non linear dreams...
The cool breeze of the morn
Like a perfected swan song
Whence came like an orange hue
Caught on leaves...city asleep like log-
Of an inexhaustible notebook,
One can then only be
A perfected primary number
A sense of satiety-
Wrapped in white and blue...
A be...
Small till the time small
Rolls to be merged with the Big Fall-
The Autumn of Life...
With an ecstatic rise
A never felt Feel...
And one
Gets certain fill
Of million gallons of watery generation,
O how one is then set to motion...
O how then finds the potion
Ambrosaic...
O how then one aspires
To be
In a phase
Of merger of nights and days
Caused by revolution...
Of changing pole position...
An evolution...
Till evolution becomes
A potion...
The way
He plays
His fingers
On the keyholes
Of the flute...
Air turns neutral
As if white...
And music comes full of peace...
As if bliss...
The way
He the Music inherent
Sends air through his saxophone
Air turns strings and chords...
As if He the Lord
Had long since woven music...
As if
His blue and white and green
Had been
Harmonised
To match every kind of a being...
Long before
The Birth
Of the Space
Broken
And
Put
Into
Smaller balls-
Like isospheres,
And fragmentation of Time
Into smaller clocks-
Like isotimes...
he remembered
Once
Right here
At the verandah
Of the hut
Overlooking the distant hills
Swept by ethereal music
And the foggy state of late november
he found Him in a chapter...
Sitting straight
On a wooden bench
Overlooking the woods
Which had charms of being greenish
Like a land deep mystic
And full of seen but unseen magic,
he recalled how in a state of rebirth
he saw a flower spreading petals to greet
Her,
her true within...
he remembered
How the Superb
Planted peepul trees
Here
With His utmost care,
awesome inspires,
holy perspires...
And
His wonderous music...
And the stream
Went on
Rippling
Creating her music,
In the midst of silence...
Mixed with smell of trees
Incensed
And the mist
Of july rain
On the leaves
Looking woken fresh...
The sky as seen above
Visible distinctly blue wide
Had beauteous silence
Befitting the moment
Of a pure transcendence...
And
The mountain stream
Went on flowing
Happy by her own...
Rippling
Amidst impregnable silence
As the place chose to be in;
Come September
When like joie spends time
Like waves ,
How can
You be
A fool...
And
me
Too?
If time lingers
Deep deep in fingers
Why so you
Be a fool
And me
The same?
If joys are bursting everywhere
By Him so kindly blessed
Why not we choose
All euthanasia?
Anastasia?
Saw them
The dolphins
Playing together
Making
Circular jumps
Into the blue...
Their moist skin
All glossy
Ashine...
And like supersynced
They together
Choreographed
A pattern
So holy,
Mystic,
As if
They were born
To be in that mirth
Of plunging
Into the blue
Sending white bubbly foams...
Saw them
The dolphins
Like a real dream
And dreamy real...
Singing and dancing...
And sending
Far
Their calls...
For more
Of their
Friends...
And this Pamela afternoon
Like a sun soft and fresh
Born after a spell of showers...
You me reminds
As if you are there in my mind
Despite me scattering always
Like those leaves blown
By monsoony wind...
And from tea cup
Left at window
Like a smoke swirl
me sees you arrive
Like truth
Undilute...
A Pamela quiet
Madrid smell
Guitar like
You arrive...
And
me sings
Looking
At the sky
Soft,
Moist like
Te quiero desnuda...
A truth like...
Un spaced...
Non timed...
Un located...
Yet
Like a state...
You
Love mine
Hawaiian kind
Breezy blue
With slight greenish hue...
O how you in me
Grow
Like a sapling of passion
Compassion combine...
And me churns
Only love love love
Like a chime..
O Aloha
Hawaiian music mine
How in me you flow
Like an ever generating magic show
And me grows never too young
Never too old,
O Aloha
Hawaiian chart singular mine
How you sow red flowers kind
As if me finds every where blossom reddened blue,
Even through wires barbed and demonic dark serpentine,
And
me reaches out
Out every sphere
Like once a migratory dream shot up
To go higher higher only to your stop...
Some wanderings makes me more
As if blueness in me she pours
By her blue blue eyes
By her owned sun rise...
Some wanderings makes me more
As if truth in me she pours
By her truthful loving eyes
By her possessed sun rise...
Some wanderings makes me more
As if love in me she pours
By her lovely lovesick caring eyes
By her golden silvery nebulic rise...
And...
As a rhyme innate...
Some wanderings makes me more
Of a man turned boy turned nomad turned joy...
Some wanderings makes me her
Falling into blur of her shaken rise of inner star...
For me
The wishes are like
Water canons
Spraying fast
Shrugging off all dust
As a bath
A plunge sudden
Into the Grand canyon
A death ,
And a rebirth
blurry eyed
A wingless of Flight...
To Your flowery hair
Where You dreams for me
Leave bare...
For me
The wishes are like flood
Running upstream of my red
But tired
Blood...
Unknown stories writes the sunny cloud
This morn
So different
Yet the same...
And
She finds poems, lack of all doubts...
In her sleepy wakeful bouts
Of fever -
A sunny cloudy morn as by Her delivered,
As if unread a poem comes
To her as a balm...
And she sits with her palette,
A field of corns like maize
Passing by like a Gladiator haze
Sleepy as if making a journey to days
She for her as sketches always...
And she sees
How unknown known stories
The morn scribbles upon
her soul
Turning her sure a bowl
Of glass-
She for her perhaps those tales written unashamed long
Predestined like alien homely songs...
there the morn by this time
Might have broken out...
And that little of the tree banyan
Under whose shade
me took a brief rest
Stretching legs midday
Burnt and oxygenated
The same,
The other day,
Facing a green country coming as sea patchy meadow like,
She must have started glistening
Standing there all right...
Swept by the breeze
And the gold of the light...
And that small but clean and clear
Road
Sloping down
Like a river
A watery flow-
That journey might have also got illumed
Sure...
By newer ideas
Newer hopes...
Having a journey made
To another time
And small space...
Always
Takes one
To rest
And trace
One's kindlier hand
And larger dimensions...
Like
The sky
Perhaps...
A thousand
Blossoms bloom
Wet and pure
So kind
Generous
As if by Her touched
Wet wet
Soft
Glistening
As if a birth celebrated...
Renewed...
As if by kissed
His Holiness
His dew...
Songy...
Peaceful,
Serene,
Tranquil...
A thousand blossoms bloom...
Surely...
Traveling
Taking in
The wet cool
he does half
Christ
Always...
Seeing her
In leaves
In temples
And mosques
And
School children
Smiling waving arms happy,
And
Sleepy flowers waking...
Traveling
Taking in
The Buddha saffrony
Fields sublime greenish
A sculpture finnish...
Traveling,
he does Christ always
Does he not?
Sometimes
me unknowing
Knowing you
Flying
Comes across
Like a series
Of paints
All over me...
So flowery drenched
Like a Dimitri
You whence maketh me
A painter strong
A venice evening flows within,
And next comes a souk
Like an alley rain rain wet...
Eyes where only Love
Like art reflect...
O you...
How you me sends offroot...
Like a shoot
Across the globe...
By Your Agape...
Your wide widest Love...
An Escape the Best...
You by me whence fully dressed
Red ended and whitest...
(On Dimitri Danish's works... )
O You
Fire like
How me in Your fire glows
And burns eternal...
That me spreads fire...
Spread You fire
Far far
Both vertical and horizontally wide...
O You
Fire like
An ocean me engulfs
And ocean blue and green
me feverish only dreams...
And see You-
Goddess
Aphrodite,
How me turns wide
Wider...widest...
Carrying your taste
In my lips
And tongue...
O You
Fire like
How me inspires...
Like fires
me finds inspires everywhere...
By you
Merged in You dear...
Merged you in You
me flies
Like hurricane
A storm,
A gale,
A torn leaf,
A small twig,
A bird...
A smell of wild blooming wild...
A restless curious child...
All...
@ thousand tetrabytes per second
Wi-fi...
Unwired...
Sans zones even!
A drizzle like
The morn carries you
And those drops on leaves and grass
Like drops of dew on your eyelashes
me to You carry...
Before the journey to the wilderness
me sings You
And you perhaps me...
For the streets look pretty wet
And the droplets hanging at iron gates
Reflect beauteous You...
The moon
Serene
Halved
Halved me quiet
Like a disc
So so bright
By His light
The same,
Reflector
She
Reflecting
Light
The same,
Soothe
Calm
Yet
So overwhelming
Like her polished
Face...
Creamed...
Lotioned...
Cologned her silver
Of nails-
As if
She awaits
Someone to arrive
Like
A dream exotic
Nocturnal
Seeped with white
But silvery bright-
Shining...
Weaving
A pure love story-
As if to her lure
To a tie...
A knot...
Never sought by any on mortal bed...
But only
Only
In the most blessed times,
Like a windchime
Ringing
Within
Heard
By only him
And
Him...
Like pink roses
Getting as dressed
With perfume french
The street becomes
A journey small
A gain
Before
Towards
More
Of
Wild on
One
Undertakes...
And the horse's hoofs
me hears
Like marks
Made
Several thousand years
Ago...
The hills up
Trodden...
Rode
Through
Muscular
Warriors
Rushing into
The wild
Without fear...
A strange man
Versus wild
A survival...
Perfumed
Wild
With lot of muscles
Pulling in...
Burdens...
Holy that
Is that not?
Living fearless...
Surviving the wild
And finding perfume of Her
Right there?
As if Artemis
Standing too close
Too near?
'You're still young...'
She sang
As if she to Her made
A plead
To send him a sky looted red -
a deed...
And
Chanted
HE
From up
There...
The same
Youngish blood...
Hearing them,
he swapped
A Feel
So distinct
Of going to make a
Sojourn
To the wild-
Adventure
Bred
As if
Onto
he...
Yea...
An escape-
He yearned,
And
he perhaps earned...
And She sang
'You're still young...'
An afternoon
Like redemption
Within
Pours a potion
A bright colored red
As if
She there
By pouring onto me
Prays
For me...
And
Me sings joie
Unadulterated...
Uninhabited
Freed
Joie...
And she
The other
Has the determination
In her woken up eyes...
For
Hears
me her
On song
'we are prisoners here
Of our own device...'
And me sees
How
She
The oldest
The wisest
The purest
The mightiest-
Telling her
The other
That
She
Hath
Made
her
Free
From
All
Device...
Looking at his work
The child
An art
Simple
Candid
As if He
And She
Both in him writ
Colors...
Colors joyous
Colors marvellous
Colors bright
Colors full of Light,
Seeing him
The child
At work
An art,
me smiles
And hugs
The child
For,
By hugging him
Him me gets...
By seeing his colored eyes
Her me finds...
Glorious,
Colors...
Colored.
{On a painting simple done by a kid of seventh standard, and I wish to name him here, for when I clicked his work, he seemed joyous, and me wishes to give him more joys , so...here goes his name, Sk. Naziruddin, a kid, reading in seventh standard, go boy, go...}
Flowing breeze cool
Like a moist white gape
Sent her
The red red
Of a feather...
Fallen as if
From
The flight of a Bird...
A Bird
Blessed by Her
The Goddess...
The Divine whitest
As a prominence...
A sense
Music written in her
Feather...
Soft...
Flowing...
There by
The sun as glided by
Upon her white
Counting beads
Rosary like
O how
She onto her came...
A life full of peace
And
Love
A
Bane...
O how she the other
Feels surprised...
O how
Love
Takes in all the Light!
And...
More of light
Just
Emanates...
And she
Be
Comes
Calming
A
Light
Bright
Yet mellowed...
Softened...
By
her
Devote...
Counting
Rosary beads,
As seeds
Of
HOPE...
Tehran orange
Yellow dawn
As a dusk
Reading
Kind whence
Upon one dropped
As duo
Sisters
On read
Going
Traveling
By the book
To girlhood
An Iman ...
One travels
To one's life
With toys
Broken bicycle...
Tiny boots
And
Nursery ,
kindergarten
Escape...
And
Fables ...
Paintings...
Tournaments...
And
Sad
Evening
Dreams
Like
Being sad
Reading
A story...
They come,
They do come...
{On a painting by Iman Maleki, born in 1976...at Tehran, Iran, who worked so far on realism,}
Seeing you
In You
Is-
Like a piano tune
Played
Soft...
By His fingers
Played as if smooth
Like an elan
Perfect
Harmonic simple
Unconventional a bit...
Still very very
outlandish...
Like a trance
A cool mist,
Seeing you
In You
Submerged
Like a Holy surge
Is me becoming
A wake,
A shake
A stir
Never
Outwardly heard,
But inside
Flowers thousand blooming,
And thousand acres green
Be coming
Singing like
An incoming sea,
A flood,
Greenish bluish kind
Of a mirth
As a re-birth,
Outlandish
Too,
Perhaps ,
A bit hip-hop
A band purely Dutch!
And then
Came
A song...
rosee...
turning post carnage
A corleone
Improper,
Only hit
On the street-
To a song-
Of Love...
Like once
He in him evoked
Like a Jew
A drop of a dew
A Muslim...
A Hindu...
A White Holy Chapel dress...
And
he
A small
non
Corleone
Turned
A song...
Of all
Overt...
Expressed
The never
Expressed...
A song
Italian sonata like
Spreading
Across a sea shone
By the Sun,
A rosee`
Kind
Of a French wine...
Too...
And
Also somewhat Greek
A birth of a lamb like-meek...
Yet-
White
Vibrant
Non speculative...
Straight
Like a passage
To Light...
You
Goddess
How by your blue
Green
Saffron
Pink
You me every moment sink...
And me
Burned sacred like a fire
A red saffron
Be
A burnt filtered molten purified
Gold...
Can You not Goddess
See?
From an insignificant flea-
A fly slipped into a blue deep dye
me dies
Not like what Mansfield thought
As death of a fly
Once...
But as a death
Welcomed
By all saffrony dress
All over the small space...
And
The Boss
Up there
Plays
His drumsticks
Like a march long
To attend the procession
Of Joie...
Everlasting...
Bursting
Within
Like living it the small the big time...
And they bloomed
Across the green
Against the perspective
Of a blue blue morn...
Like saffron they bloomed
As if woken anew
One songy country green
An awakening...
And he
Traveling as a norm
Caught how they formed
Joys and Peace
By Sun just kissed
And those coconut trees
Amidst others on rise
Reaching
Outreaching
They spread as if
Also the silent joyous scream...
Of a country's songy dream...
And the night
Came glad
Clad
In dreams
Of stars...
Glistening
Listening Him
The Angelo
Forever...
Songs everyday direct
Euthanasia chosen to resurrect
A death small
For another time
Kept pending
Never ending
Till Big
The Holiest
The Whitest
Would come
Like an Ecstatic Balm...
For a while...
Meantime
Held
Betwixt
life
And Life...
One just
Have
A smooth run
To His Holy Ghost
For
His Holy balm...
A calm...
Touche`
You there
Deep inside
Like a Bolt on
Bolted
And
stilled-
By a creative impulse...
Strong
Like making a journey superciliously long...
After a bleed
On the street
Where drops of red
Heamoglobin
Becomes
Wine
Pure
Reflecting
A dying Sun-
West ward ho!
And
Like
A Bolton
A White God
Standing at a bow
Of a boat
Stretching arms wide
Glowing by the tide...
Flowing too...
Me sings
Touched...
Torched...
Fallen
Like a dust...
Ashes from
Getting
A rebirth...
A Cranberries
evening
When singing
Comes down soft
As if holding me aloft...
me feels
Closer
Like Michael...
And
The head
Whipping backlash
Of wars...
Bloody real bath...
They go away
For a holy bath
Down that
River on flow
Upon Her
Where
Pinkish red orange grey
All get
A Sublimate...
And
One
Sees
Her...
Again
Sans pain
With Hope
Never ever to be drained...
One then
Reverberates...
Faith...
Charity...
as
purity...
Pristine...
Solemn...
By the river
Sitting
Becoming
Silence
On Flow...
Such an afternoon
She when Her beauty bedecks
Like a cool blue saree draped
With white ice like scoops
Printed all over Her superb existence...
he turns a Frost like
Never a Frost God
But miles to tread before embracing the end
Of a beginning of a Start
Big
Of the small
And Small of the smallest...
A taste of a savoury wine
White...
Delicious
Making him hungry for more...
More of Agape
And Philos interwoven
And no no gas oven
To get choked ,
No blood shed
Like the boy in pajamas striped
Once faced at a chamber...
Nothing like a timber
Broken
Shredded...
But a timber finely tuned such
That it sends music much
To the air...
The afternoon blessed
With She be coming
A blue saree such
With white paint brush
Spraying whitest sublime...
Blessed be
Only
An afternoon...
Sure...
Pure.
At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut, She could not have spoken for The rare award, The police have done the th...
