Gusset of rose I am,
Tender the body of mine;
Petals yet to rise,
'Touch me not';
I am yet to bloom;
Odor of juvenility,
Yet to snoop out of me;
Smell of mine,
Yet to strew in ambiance,
For you to love;
(In Hindi)
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????? ??? ?? ????,
?????? ??? ???? ?????,
? ??? ??? ???
?? ??? ??;
??? ?? ???? ?? ??? ??;
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????? ?? ???? ????,
?????? ?? ???;
© Sadashivan Nair
Categories:
gusset, beautiful, beauty, innocence, kiss,
Form: Prose Poetry
Diligence dallies,
drawn between soft-shoe shuffle
of whispering corners,
where finger walking negates talking
‘cos tongues are knotted in spittoon embrace,
and voyeuristic carnage vomiting
from polished pine floor,
where stiff dicks bob to a racing heart
and booty is shaken not stirred.
Ice cube charms melting
under heated collars swerving to avoid
dangerous curves with no safety net
to cushion their fall,
and is it the last dance
when weaving a straight line
with digits as wet as the gusset
they dethroned,
or self relief merely misaimed.
Categories:
gusset, life, people, social
Form: I do not know?