Ju

Perhaps, the red magic rays
that you hid behind your mehendi flowers
Or the crimson cascading
from your romantic alchemy,
Would tell me how
you entered my lost Rome.
I'd then tell you stories,
Story of Anarkali,
story of blue ribbons
that float for the setting sun,
Untold story of Laila
and an ancient story
of faded roses.

Autumn passed by
and then you happened.
why did you wait for seasons ?
or do you believe in reasons ?

Ah my deja vu !
is that you or your smile
that strangling my words ?

Your words Ju,
carry me persian statues
I always dreamt of.
Your sigh walks me to
Unknown riversides.
Your absence surrounds me,
like song surrounds loneliness.

I cant now ask this midnight,
for it is all set to go off
I cant ask rain
for it can no more drench me to fever.
I cant ask seasons to return.
I cant ask birds to sing
for I've already had them caged
and they've forgotten the songs.
I cant even ask you,
for you've happened
in an invisible corner
of my soul.

There's no sanctuary
for the shadows,
when you give me a reason
to Love you.
as you do without a word,
with just your thoughts
kissing the wind.

I wish I could whistle
that magic tune
If you and those
Seasons would come to me.

burden of silence
on eyelashes.

If only these words were wings
they would reach her
but I am only ten thousand ribbons
prattling in air
weaving gold frondescence.

Your questions

You always asked me:
why are your poems short ?
sometimes fractured and incomplete ?
trying to hide improper metaphors ?
concluded on unexpected assertions and sighs ?
trapped in mercurial
changes of emotions ?

You asked me :
why do you paint
flowers of Paris
in your poem, you had distances.
and the forgotten seasons
of Kashmir and Sea ?

I say, my love :
every fractions of you,
can repair me.
I will absorb from you,
the lost words and colors.
And you will see
My verses breath and
draw a rainbow for you ;
a rainbow with no colors
that your eyes know
and a song that you
never heard.
You, can do with me
What my poems could'nt.
and you will not ask again
anything.

feed me
a smiled thought of you
and I'll dance with words
on nights like this,
where bliss is walking
in the warm rain,clothes,
a memory again.

as if they weathered each other
windblown yet steadied
hand in hand.

enrapt in dense mass of us
where grass keeps growing
sans weed
singing all the time.

enrapt in dense mass of us
where grass keeps growing
sans weed
singing all the time

Trees and flowers
Never argue
With their seasons.

Triplet weave,
sleeve pages
turning wheels,
I deal with emotions.
expression
somehow finds
words,paint or clay
to cup my bleeding heart
all day.

Read to me
from your favorite book.
Lean in close;
so I can feel
the parts that
leave you breathless,
And I could become that.

Write a poem a day,
then more.
Turn my guts inside out
and read the tea leaf patterns
Bottom swirl the wretched spills
on love's road bleeding.

why do I abide
in the throes of love,
whether weather fine or storms for all my eyes to see,
this is what I want to be,
rain,rain and more rain.

Fingernail drawing a slit
through an overripe moon
the juice of its light
dripping celestial body
across the little-
black dress of night.

The weeping in the hollows
Struck a tune.
Fit for a clown,
Fit for a loon.

some flowers
never tell you
their names.
(you just remember
what she smelled like).

The soul
always remembers
what the mind tries to forget.

Parallel trains of conversation,
parallel trains of thought,
a veil of words unspoken.