Tale of a lost girl

Walk with me O’ son, let me tell you a tale
of Mr. Stewart and how he bailed
leaving me and you behind
I still 18 and you stillborn

We met in Mrs. Rosewood’s house
dark and dingy room, filled with ashes and smoke
set on a hill, on a damp Scottish dawn
as I shared the blanket and we kissed along

He, married twice, with both women dead
and I 18 fell for him and his ‘stache at first sight
But, Mr. Stewart plans were different
as he left me pregnant
and settled in Mrs. Rosewoods arm

In the midnight of 12th august
I rolled over the muddy floor in pain
hearing my roars and moans
neighbors called the wet nurses

She arrived and drew the curtain
I screamed at top of my voice
as you pushed and pulled
only to be stillborn with no beats or pulse

So, the day after you were born and dead
we buried you to the mother as we all wept in pain
but hush! It’s a bliss and tell none at all
that we still run merry’s and dance till we fall
O’ my son we will dance together
till I find my path to the place
where you reside



The Retreat

So Diamonds sparkle, and thy Mistriss eyes;
When tis not Fire but light in either flyes.
Beauty not thaw’d by lustful flames will show
Like a fair mountain of unmelted snow:
Nor can the tasted vine more danger bring
Then water taken from the chrystall Spring,
Whose end is to refresh and cool that heat
Which unallayd becomes foul vices seat:
Unless thy boyling veins, mad with desire
Of drink, convert the liquor into fire.
For then thou quaff’st down feavers, thy full bowles
Carouse the burning draughts of Portia’s coles.
If it do leap and sparkle in the cup,
Twill sink thy cares, and help invention up.
There never yet was Muse or Poet known
Not dipt or drenched in this Helicon.
But Tom! take heed thou use it with such care
As Witches deal with their Familiar.
For if thy vertues circle not confine
And guard thee from the Furies rais’d by wine,
‘Tis ten to one this dancing spirit may
A Devil prove to bear thy wits away;
And make thy glowing nose a Map of Hell
Where Bacchus purple fumes like Meteors dwell.
Now think not these sage moralls thee invite
To prove Carthusian or strict Rechabite;
Let fooles be mad, wise people may be free,
Though not to license turn their libertie.
He that drinks wine for health, not for excess,
Nor drownes his temper in a drunkenness,
Shall feel no more the grapes unruly fate,
Then if he took some chilling Opiate.







Ah! This Life

A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in,
A tick to grin and a hour to sob in,
A half quart of joy to a peck of pain,
A seed that slowly grows in rain;
Ah! This is life

Standing beside the life unfolds,
With a grin to warm and whine to vivify us;
Also, joy appears all sweeter when sun shines after,
and the heat twists to cold as if spells have no masters;

Ah! This is life



Sway Along

Sway along with me o’love
from moon to sun
and from dusk to dawn
like we were just born

Cut loose of your rusted bonds
sinking your mind’s flight
and hold my hand as we sway
from the pits of hell to the sky’s of paradise all along

Set, free yourself like the chariot of your mind
unchained and unheld
into a territory so vast and open
as my grandma’s mowed lawn

O’ my half sway with me
all summers and rains along
and let my self burn in you
and you return to ashes in mine





Tonight I can write

Tonight I can write
the ode to her lust for the skin
and my love for her drowned soul
and to the tickling ribs when she cuddle’s in my arms
laying down upon me, like snow on the wet grass

Write for instance about sweat and tears
of pain and moan and of thrust and sear
spill my ink over the canvas of her shivering body
and my lips right between her legs

Sitting beside the fire, I sketch my desires
for her body’s every inch and her soul
smelling her fragrance in the mist on the cracked glass window
raring for her return before the snow



The Poet

Only on me, the lonely one,
The unending stars of the night shine,
The stone fountain whispers its magic song,
To me alone, to me the lonely one
The colorful shadows of the wandering clouds
Move like dreams over the open countryside.
Neither house nor farmland,
Neither forest nor hunting privilege is given to me,
What is mine belongs to no one,
The plunging brook behind the veil of the woods,
The frightening sea,
The bird whir of children at play,
The weeping and singing, lonely in the evening, of a man secretly in love.
The temples of the gods are mine also, and mine
the aristocratic groves of the past.
And no less, the luminous
Vault of heaven in the future is my home:
Often in full flight of longing my soul storms upward,
To gaze on the future of blessed men,
Love, overcoming the law, love from people to people.
I find them all again, nobly transformed:
Farmer, king, tradesman, busy sailors,
Shepherd and gardener, all of them
Gratefully celebrate the festival of the future world.
Only the poet is missing,
The lonely one who looks on,
The bearer of human longing, the pale image
Of whom the future, the fulfillment of the world
Has no further need. Many garlands
Wilt on his grave,
But no one remembers him.



Rainy Days

Rainy Days


Nights were dark, grim and cold

And the clouds invaded the sky

Extended till the horizon and the peaks so high

I wondered “If I ever would see the light?”


Life grew dreary and sceptic of the bright

As, the clouds poured, flooding my mind

With the thoughts of calamity and catastrophe, by the mighty

Angels of doom, holocausting the blissful residence of the soul


Besides, the gathered vivid dreams I lied

Too, tired and too old to resist and fight

And, now only prayers chanted from my lips

As everything which I once held dear, slipped


Living in the delusion, having drunk the intoxicating wine

Of false power and pride destroyed at the first sight of peril

And, too foolish to realise that we are mere pawns

In the game of chess between the God and the devil






Childhood Dreams



Sleeping in the cosy bed with a campfire

We all slept in a tent, on the hill top

And, I slept with a tooth underneath my pillow

For the fairy, to come and play her part.


As my eyes shut down, and mind went numb

I moved to another world, or it was just an illusion

The flowers paved the way, and it rained nectar

As all the animals move around, with no human to butcher.


Fairies, blonde and blue eyed roamed around

Granting the wishes of the children, without a crown

I smiled and leaped with the joy, all around the town

As, no one was ill, broken or torn down.


But as the dusk hit my eye, the dream vanished

I rubbed my eyes and pinched myself twice

As I couldn’t believe, all of this was just an illusion

And, I still had dilemma with no escape or solution.




Who Is She?



A girl, a woman and a mother is what she is

Friend to some and a lover to him she is

Dress her in red, and worship her like a Goddess

And, then rip her fabric apart and treat her like a witch in your holy shrine


She walks down the road every eve

Stared by the men, she veils her pain and grief

People see her as a sack of meat, to feast their eyes upon

To shallow to realise the beautiful soul which lay in her beneath


Love to lust, she had stood strong in all season’s

Still the size of her clothes is the all the reason

Of, the tossing and crushing of her self-respect and dignity

By, the masses of every section in this disgraceful society


So, grow up folks, it’s been a million years of evolution

Isn’t it too late to realise that her clothes aren’t the solution

As, she stands on the quicksand of the narrow-minded patriarchy

Sinking her deep, with her every move to elevate the society



And, it seems her identity is lost somewhere now

As, she lies in a corner sobbing till her tears run out

Making a choice between the rope and the poison which she held in her trembling hands

Deciding to end this torcher of life, once for and all

As it wasn’t yours it was “Her’s” fault.






From Corolla to Crust



It’s the summer of my life, and the petals bloomed vivid and radiant

Animated was the world, and the dears galloped near the clear stream

The sunshine illuminated the path I treaded on

And the smile spread across my face as my life shined.


Now, the cold zephyr blew across my face

And the leaves fell down, and the twilight set a bit too early

The radiance of my life, felt like it was eroding away

As, now I stood in a park, waving my childhood that day.


And now, the breeze turned into a storm

Bringing in hail and snow, it seemed I had lost hope

My vivid image of blunt innocence faded away

As now, the winter of life had set through.


Desperate and distraught as my life phased ahead

I became conscious of the preaching of God

That life is a cycle with spokes of old and new

And, the wheel turns eternally, with no relief for you old sod.




So, I made peace with the wailing kid and bear my heart for the truth somewhere inside

As, now the storm in me has calmed because I grew up and became wise

Nothing is permanent and immortal in this realm of illusionary truth

As the grey veil of death was actually the source of the rebirth in a new form.