There’s no mercy in the Texas sun
There’s no favor for anyone
There’s no grace in its glare
There’s no respite from his stare
There’s no escaping the celestial fire
There’s no defying our Sol so dire
There’s no shade near deep enough
There’s no victory in being tough
There’s no mercy in the Texas sun
There’s no outrunning what can’t be outrun
There’s no eluding his scorching touch
There’s no denying it’s just too much
And summer is still a month away…
I stand along the grey walls
of a sacred sanctuary
where her portrait hangs
immersing
eluding
shifting
in consummate chiaroscuro
like velvet, darkness drapes
across her almond cheeks
and I wonder
what the painter had in mind
when his last brush strokes
wet-on-wet
were glazing sfumato
blending
feathering
scumbling
the mysterious curves
of her lips
crestfallen or elated?
I wonder
For the contrived inducement
of the fixated being,
an aligned identity personified,
changes in self-devised palette
of metamorphosed color mélange,
while the conjured chameleon,
slyly cocooned,
paints surreptitiously
shape-shifted deception portrait.
In ostensible enactment
of life’s incredible drama,
performance perfected in one-act play
with obsessed passion parodied,
gilds the corollary crafted by alchemy,
an axiomatic designed drive
induces the wily shift
from one actor to another.
Out of the limelight,
the covert colors fade
on virtually made-up visage,
the pallid original face
morphs mystically into
veracity mirror of actuality,
reflects the real identity depiction,
painted in primal persona hues
of distinctive disposition,
epitomized once.
The spasm of pragmatic perception
splits the mirror,
shards of shattered pretence
willfully abandoned as discarded debris.
Transformation creates the eluding entity,
an alien in its own reinvented realm,
completes the illusory pattern,
designed by the paradigm of contrast.
Amazon is my night penetrating
alert I sprung from branch tight
it is buck nutritious blood
observation stark from green-blue irises
beauty meets danger not looking away
lithe tongue saliva intestine surrender
Muscles sinewy, handsome black the Sky
claws ripping buck’s bones snap cracks
mitochondria leaps from atoms, stars dance
to splash spine fluid about sand wet soft
mirroring clear a rebirthing act
nature ascertains when to numb nerves to claws
no eluding life when hunger mud stalks
Iridescence watches flesh rip longing lick
buck relinquishing spirit ~ cannot groan
black fur transmuting flesh disappearing
leather into charcoal night appearing
her thickening her for next week’s killing
time folding ouroboros
Panther curls, tailing
_____________________________
[ Poet’s Note in Comments Section ]
Watching a hurricane
won’t get you wet
And reading more Freud
won’t help you forget
Mouthing the words
cannot guarantee sound
Laden with fear
hiding guilt by the pound
Stated intent
broken pathways to roam
Paring good wishes
right down to the bone
New skin in the game
and wounds that won’t heal
Eluding the cries
— and truth unrevealed
(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)
The wiring harness
connecting life
crossed
but grounded sure
Eluding sight
and force of will
its power
most secure
And only seen
when time shorts out
in flashes
not to last
Of red and black
and green contacts
that charge
— the future past
(The New Room: January, 2025)
I spent so many lonely days,
many even lonelier nights,
asking of myself
the whys and wherefores
of this terrible life.
To suffer such ignoble pains,
to be unjustly accused
of things I had not done.
I searched and sought
for reasons unknown.
Did I deserve such a life?
Or should I count the blessings,
a handful of good times?
Should I be content
with what I've received?
Can I say I'm incomplete?
That I have not achieved?
Or is there a balance somewhere
that is forever eluding me.
Do I double count ill luck?
Do I half the good old times?
I must at least be sincere-
evaluate my life complete.
Yet if it's peace I seek
I must remember
that it is not for me
to ask why this, why that,
rather admit that happiness
comes only if we accept and say
"Thy will be done".
Then I'll need to trek
uncharted roads,
fall into dark ravines;
meander through ugly days,
loiter through dreary solitary nights.
For I shall find all comfort:
the sadness I left behind.
___________
The dejected heroine stands up to her beloved’s deceit,
suffers a slew of mental states: despair, deliberation,
weakness, weariness, and indignation.
______________
Despair writ large in her red eyes,
And deliberation otherwise,
Weak and weary on waiting,
Flames of fire from eyes flaring,
Indignant, lapses she in past at last,
Now and then oh what a contrast!
Then, I longed for a few free days from him,
Yet, it never came true-- eluding dream--
Hope, that ghee-less would go his lamp,
Yet, never got folded his camp,
Is it that I no longer attract
Him? O come let me know the fact.
_______________________
Natya Shastra | 04.02.2025 | Free verse, emotions, despair, heartbroken
Note: This is fourth of Ashta-Nayikas, eight heroine types, as classified in a Sanskrit treatise on performing arts in Bharata’s Natya-Shastra. The state (avastha) of the eight romantic heroines widely themed in Indian paintings, literature, sculpture, classical dance forms and music. Vipralabdha is the fourth of the eight such heroines depicted here in poetic form.
Lately time has been eluding me, going by so fast.
It makes me afraid what we have attained again won't last.
But I know most of how we had suffered is now all in the past.
Our affection was once a radiant blaze, now fading
The warmth that ignited our souls is now fading
The moments we cherished have become echoes, fading
The joy we once knew has turned to whispers, fading
Our dialogues have become clumsy, fading
The silence stretching between us grows heavier, fading
The bond we once cherished is fraying, fading
Our hearts pulse to a rhythm of their own, fading
We grasp desperately, but it's eluding, fading
The love we nurtured is gradually vanishing, fading
Our connection is fading, and I’m fading
Into the shadows of our once-vibrant past, fading
The spent year sinks in the captivating cauldron of history,
trace a fading furrow of memory in the shadow of setting sun,
etched in the realm of remote remembrance weary,
as the new months come with blooming buds of promise.
As Janus opens for me the door to the new beginning,
after my time crosses the corridor of the worn-out year,
I’d weave unseen dreams in the tapestry of future ensuing,
the unsung songs I’d fondly sing in cycles of new seasons.
My children who’ve grown aspirant wings of freedom,
have flown away to the seamless sky they have chosen.
In the new year I’d do whatever it takes for them to return
to the longing nest I’ve woven for them in my heart.
In my earnest pledge in the new year I solemnly resolve,
I’d kindle the candles of affection and care in my hearth.
The dreams eluding me in the years that have gone by,
I wish to fulfill before they’re abandoned in the wrap of time.
My optics are fooling me,
Intuition eluding me,
Life is confusing me.
I step inside to see,
Whats off with my energy,
As this feeling pulls at me.
Facing everyday tiredly,
Fighting to get ahead,
Hurrying to be dead.
As Money drowns all i did,
Keeping me in this pit,
Fighting my Spirit.
I've had enough of it,
I don't even like it,
It's only creating conflict.
No one else sees it,
Feeding all of us in the pit,
Stepping over others just to get it.
Leaving those behind in need,
Filling Pockets full of greed,
Just to prove you succeed.
A system to make you bleed,
To earn something to feed,
A family that needs you to thrive.
Its foundation will falter,
And they'll poison your water,
To keep you on your Dollar Collar.
There was a day when my brain turned against me
thirsting for daily dose of medication.
My thoughts grew dim and every day more cloudy
as if in fear of some intimidation.
I fought against growing sense of agony
words eluding my desired ambition.
But the day came when the lights came back on
Words spewing forth in an unending ribbon.
Trailing clouds of glory do we come
Until by the end we are left dull and glum.
How it all came to this
We are responsible
For being so remiss
The magic of our early moments
Emblazoned in our minds
Fades and disperses with every pressure
Our world brings to bear upon our pleasure
Exams, bills, targets, workday worries
blunt our perceptions
And drive them undergound
Occasionally to spark alive in a dream state
Eluding our grasp
once we come to our senses
Wide awake and once more blind
How to recapture
And to resurrect
That rich inner spirit
Which came with our birth
That should be our aim
Too many earthly concerns
Within our clay
Must take the blame
For that loss of courage
To break free from the constricting frame
Forcing us
To forget the beauties of the day
To play the stultifying economic game
The stifling straitjacket of life
Keeps us playing
I did not know how to love you,
I burned in silence, a flame wandering
In the forgotten valley, where time stands still,
Your eyes - lighthouses in the night, beads sparkling
In the ash that remained from our love.
Your echoes, in a hush, reverberated,
Eluding my grasp, unable to hold them close;
Beneath my steps, the burning lava consumed me,
Leaving behind the ash of unfulfilled desires.
I touched you, gently, upon the soul, without you knowing,
Windmills scattering the scent of jasmine
Under heavy eyelids; and I crushed you,
Unaware of your astral radiance.
From the ear of wheat, I gleaned silence,
The same mute piety from which distance was born.
I never learned how to love,
I diluted, became part of the river of love.
Beyond me, where dreams end,
The white butterflies extinguish in the prayer of resurrection,
Leaving behind only the memory of what was
And a deep regret for the unfulfilled love.
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