Takta hoon tum ko, yeh dil behak jata hai
Tumhare jalwe mein jahan tham sa jata hai
Tumhari aankhon ki gehraayi mein doob jata hoon
Tumhari muskaan pe har dard bhool jata hoon
Tum chalti ho to hawa gungunane lagti hai
Tum bolti ho to khamoshi bhi jagti hai
Yeh dil tumhare lamss ki tamanna liye
Har lamha teri qurbat ki dua kiye
Magar tum door ho, yeh faasle kyun hain?
Yeh faaslon mein bhi mohabbat ke geet kyun hain?
Takta hoon tum ko, aur jeeta hoon tum mein
Tumhare khwabon mein, aur haqeeqat ke gum mein
Written: September 07, 2023
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The bulbs hum with color in this off-white cube.
I move slowly, to catch the glimpse that's doob.
I wobble and drift through the sails of my mind.
Searching for peacefulness in this sleepless rind.
Outside forces can feel remote and far away.
I stalk a distant star within walls that can sway.
My body may be scarce but my mind may soar.
Uncover the cosmos of notions that we ignore.
Photonic pairs of notions dance in my head.
I sink to extreme depths where whim led.
Fade, disappear, oh weariness and despair!
Since I'd prefer to leave this insomniac affair.
I pursue my goals with faith as my guide.
With the dreamless embryonic night ride.
Sleep disorders may be outside my grasp.
I roam this frantic realm, lacking the clasp.
In the cracks of my ambiguity, ideas whirl.
With each raw hint, my commitment hurls.
I'm a phony hero, a fallow shambling traveler.
I'm still finding my own advice in this dark battler.
She comes in colors.
Rearranges herself at will.
Masterful pen.
And a mind never still.
As imaged in my mind,
The Rube with a doob
in her left hand
Merlot in her right,
Penning her heart out,
All through the night...
Artist painting with words,
Colors she invents herself,
Every now and then a little humor,
Like a mischievous elf...
And so many love her,
And so glad she is back...
Especially me,
This old poetic hack.
I looked all over,
In the closet,
In the shed,
Under my body pillow,
In my head....
Vanished like a puff of smoke,
Makes you wonder if
You just awoke....
And the Twilight Zone
Was where you dreamed
Maybe she skipped town,
Cause of an overdue loan?
She lives in Maine,
Maybe she got too close
To Steven King's ghost
And away she was spirited,
To be the host,
Of a new Poetry site...
The thought's a fright!
Let's send out the Mounties...
Maine's near Canada Dry, no?
Probably lots'a counties,
And she'd know,
Where to hide,
To keep us guessin'
Or maybe with our brains,
She's messin'
Nah, she's not cruel,
In fact, she's pretty damn cool!
So get back on the stove, Ms. Rube,
The Soup's boiling,
You're like a Rubik's Cube,
Impossible to figure,
Like a musician
With one too many a "doob'"
We'll wait faithfully,
Candle in the "Windows"
Hoping our jewel comes back,
As quickly as she goes.
My dear darling Rube,
Just think, if you were
smokin' a doob
The poetic miles you could cross...
Yet your talent is there,
And I know just how rare
And I know that you care,
And now for words, I am at a loss.
Thanks, your fan, tom