As drizzles or rain drops you involuntarily flow,
Are you, like waters in the mighty reservoirs, embanked?
Like waves of seas, why from my eyes you arise, I don't know,
Why, in a pure diamond-drip form within me you are cramped...?
At separation or loss or longing you break like dams,
Dribble as though you've to finish everything all at once;
Even hearts that are as hard as stones, often, become lambs,
Though in wisdom and logic, I am great, I turn a dunce...!
For my mother I cry; for my father and my brother,
Death has taken to himself many from my family;
Having seen many going, I, now, do not, much bother,
You flow like a waterfall; I get sticky clammily...!
Why should I have TO WEEP THE TEARS THAT NEVER LEARN at all?
Why should, unlike the monsoon every season you arrive?
From the eyelash all through the lid and cheeks and chin you crawl,
Why, though I do not want, in my unawareness you thrive...?
I know it is you, like the floods, wash away my despair,
You protect my eyes from dust and dirt and irritants too;
Yet, lo, in the heart of hearts, this is my humble prayer,
In the name of pain, the poor and lowly don't kindly woe...!!!
Yesterday cliche of a colored rainbow.
The archaic arc is a banal kitsch, too low.
Poets.... they don't stop using it although.
It's just optical science....no hologram show.
The hackneyed story... 'sun meets rain'.
The 'love' seen for years... again and again.
A tired metaphor.. nothing new to explain.
That pot of gold mocks.... the 'gays' in pain.
The VIBGYOR chroma has had long monopoly.
Poets of tomorrow....please search other simile.
Colors are now cold... don't hold them clammily.
Beautiful?!!..Oh.. Boring, ..Depressing actually.
Let's dig some Ozone holes in the sky.
How does it matter?
We'll see Ultraviolet...
We'll see Infrared...
Who says it's a disaster?
Let's turn, Black and White', the pretty colored laughter.
Don't let that shining visual smile live happily ever after.
31st October ,2018
A howl at an unlocked door.
Dead set against the grain,
Some clawing at the way.
One gentle knock, a tap again,
More tricky threshold play.
Emerging from the shadows,
To darkened hall faint light,
By a pale hand's outstretched candle,
Well met, the lover of the night,
There beyond the turning handle.
Inside now by invitation,
Clinging clammily on excess,
Kisses soft and tender never,
Dullness into softness press -
Sharpness, crimson as a river,
Downhill, hot into the deep -
One burning red; then gone,
She too to love the night.
Her sleeping lover down at dawn,
In casket, safe from daylight;
Dead cold upon his native earth.
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