Sweaty Seasons

Embellishment of labor, I am

flaunted to the peers,

at opportunity's every call,

ever so royally

A symbol of sun's ravishing, I am

which starts with a kiss, and then gets fierce,

so that she pants, while she fans

with her garment's fall,

ever so coyly...

I may not be like the dews in the dusk

which, on each petal and leaf shall stand,

but also not, am I the summer's leftover muck

for I am that molten gem that glistens

that stays concealed, but only revealed

by trickling down when gathered all locks

sparing not a single strand.

of the stage beyond minor apprehensions,

we have now passed, I indicate

when from the clouds of fear and anxiety

I precipitate...

down his straight looking cliff

also between her narrow deep crevice

I travel sending a ticklish chill

which to its source is not akin

couldn't add to the troubles, only If

as well providing an adhesive service

that proven reliable, discarded until

of making the fabrics cling like their second skin...

I also am the herald,

that they are now healing

the emerging cool beads

bringing that relief's feeling,

that doused is now the fire within

which made of them a living hearth

washing away a part of them

cleansing them before their desire luxurious bath...

Often accused is the sun 

for this inconvenience

assuming us to be his  conception

their hubris from their ignorance,

grants them this lenience

towards their thirst, after which we arrive

towards their odor, after which they arrive

towards their very being, with whom we survive 

of whom we are,  just shards of reflection.....

Kaagaz se Mehfil Tak

 Mann mein bhatakte inn khayalon ne

Kuch Khaamosh chipe sawaalon ne

Kagaaz ke aise na jaane kitne pannon mein,

ghar kar liya tha...

Par ab haalaat badal gaye lekar aisi karvat

wo har ek panna jo tha unka ghar,

wahi ek din ban gaya unka marghat,

hum bejhijhak pannon mein unhe bharte gaye

ki inn pannon se hi unhone apna mann bhar liya tha..

duniya dekhne ki, duniya mein dikhaai dene ki

jagne lagi unke mann mein yeh khwahish

toh lekar ek duje ka sahara

karne lage banavti duniya (social media) mein beinteha numaaish

siyaahi ki jagah tasveeron se

prachar karne ka vichar tha

par yeh woh jagah thi jahaan sirf

chahat aur chaahnevaalon ki len den ka vyapaar tha

par ab bhi kayam irada hai inka, nikalneka is marghat se

umeed se daav lagaya hai, kalakaaron ke is jamghat pe

meri awaaz ko saaz bana ab sunte hain

apne saans ki har ek aahat

jo goonj banke aati hai,

jab bajti taaliyon ki gadgadahat

Ab khamoshi tanhaai aur gumnaami 

se jab bhi paani hogi kuch der ki raahat

tab shaamil honge is mehfil mein

nazm se saje yeh khayaal

puri karne sunne aur sunaai dene ki apni yeh chaahat.

A Hand to Hand talk...

 A caress on the knuckles, 

which was a plea to heal,

 slowly affirming a grip, giving

my fatigued being, a cushioning feel

to convey of the battles fought with the world each day,

that to others may seldom be known,

but return when I shall, louder than my bruises, this hold shall say

"you've done well, and fret not, you're not alone".

An innocent polite tug from the grip,

a persuasion to follow her lead, to take a stroll

into the orchards, towards that moment of the sunset,

when the sea's golden carpet feels the fade, of 

the last of its day's sheen, then can she command,

with, a pulling demand, that while our arms cuddle,

shall she on my shoulder, her head lean..

With some courage my fingers whisper to hers,

what my lips couldn't to her ears, veiled by

those dark strands, hence letting my fingers

softly make its case, to take refuge between hers,

where once entered they wish to feel enclosed,

in that desire they pray to hers for salvation.

allowed they were,

 enclosed they were,

for their sincere cajoling, 

rewarded they were,

and while those dark stranded veils were lifted

when i blew a soft warm breeze,

our fingers indulged in a banter, of parting to unite,

only to feel the heat of what had begun,

with an intention to just tease...

to survive and to indulge in this storm of passion

our fingers answered the calls to enclose,

vowing not to abandon in that exciting embrace

letting that wall be the witness of their brazen confession, for,

it felt every thud and drag, as they reveled in their flows

yet when doused was desire's each ember,

they flirtingly parted to unite ,

to recall relive and that moment remember.

and later when in a peaceful slumber they were,

my thumb to enquire, slid, to the ridge of her wrist,

and found its peace, in listening, to the echo

of the drumming beats within me,

declaring this blissful reality, in which we now exist.

Innocent Arousing Knots

 While he ties the knots innocuously,

ensuring no mark shall any lace leave,

each breath of mine, I hold suspiciously

to coyly suppress my bosom's perceivable heave

Sliding my tresses to the front

while I visualize his awestruck face

only to feel his thumbs blunt

And the warmth that bellowed,

from his inner furnace

that heat met its compensation

with the perspiring beads cold

yet he did tie the knots with near precision

as he spared a margin of my waist's fold.

The Teasing Travel across the countryside

From a deep narrow valley,

concealed within her peaks

began a journey, that left

a moist slippery trace

a journey deliberately lengthened;

partly by the smooth path, and

partly by the traveler's pace

the journey went on leisurely

till it suddenly dipped in a crater, which

only seemed to suck it in calmly

yet also made it bite a grip, of

the surface above desperately

while it did enjoy its stay there

it also strayed to the parallel paths that swayed

but then began a quiver,

and sparked by this teasing stay 

the whole countryside of unsatiable pleasure

coerced it farther yet closer with her tremors

and feigning reluctance it resumed to relish

the steep destination across the trimmed meadow

into the dark condensed cave,

feeling its pulpy narrow walls

fathoming its dark ensnaring depth

only to get drenched, and yet,

the countryside felt a drought

and her tremors reached deep within

to let him know it's high time

the teasing better make way for the tilling

lest the dams of shame break early

preponing the time of arrival, of

the impending flood.....

Curves and Swells

 Looking at her eyes with deep concentration,

to admire, to converse as is the set convention,

But I say let your eyes slip, for once let them slide,

And know you shall at that trip, what had lifted hers with pride,

It is but those perky swells, made prominent by that appealing curve

And as my vision there dwells, slandered I shall be for my nerve

but before the keepers of this tradition erstwhile, shower on me their prejudiced hailstones

the curve I speak of, comes from her smile, the swells that I relish are of her cheekbones.

Emergence From Void

 Words, lines, ideas, 

luring me from afar,

I follow their path, only to be abandoned

as they scatter, fade away, erasing their trace.

Alas, what could have been a sonnet, a tale that

was sung for eons to reverberate,

now just seems a teasing smoke, exhaled 

by my cold deluding despair,

reminding me of that fog of nicotine 

from her ruthless seducing, crimson coated buds.

And now reprimanded by my frowny grin

for I was lost in this void, before this deluding pursuit

and after chasing this mirage, I only seem to sink

lower in this abyss,

fretfully now my shelter,

hopefully for a brief time period, though

thankfully was I enveloped by this,

for this pursuit of applause fatigued me

of their inattentive formal claps,

also their desires which had echoed, only

come from my screaming lust.

These tidal waves of cacophony,

had only washed me away,

From what I deeply wanted to be, only to be banished

to this dark, desolate desert of deafening silence.

tis possible I was to remain here, till

I rest rejuvenate and realize,

Devious and clueless, is this course of destiny,

for even here, I'm not me

and beyond this dimension what lays, may

not be for me...

and yet I resolve to resurrect, 

breaking this caging casket

still I choose to tread ,with words

inserted like thread, 

in a needle of rhythm,

crawling across this fabric of mind,

this canvas of my voice,

emerging as this protrusion,

for them to see, what I show

in this tapestry, perhaps as they see, seek too

I will, who I am, may be some of this

or of it all.