To a Younger Poetess 

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What ever happens between us, your body
My body, let it not come between our
Minds, our splendid conversations full of
Light-hearted and cognitive intricacy

Your slender fingers of soul
Reaching into my empowerment
You nurture my little mental life
With your wispy spiritual somersaults

Your writer’s frenzy and literary ambition
Until I no longer exist, I am a half-curled
Froth of intellectual ecstasy with you
We soup together in diverse literary engagements

* * *

Wishing we’d have more years to converse
About the nature of art and limitations of language
To embody emotions and derive meaning
In such a wishy-washy language as English

And without much spiritual power as Sanskrit
Or simplicity of Mandarin, or how poetry
Happens in the interaction with life
Whatever happens been our floating sexuality

* * *

The dance of our young nimble caresses
Remember that our fraternity goes beyond
Corporeal attraction but is fused in mental affinity.

A Little Quiet Begs

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A Little Quiet Begs

It’s a living aphorism
How our lives come together
To teach, to learn, to melt into

The wild wisdom we have accumulated
In body, brain and soul the tantalizing
Prophecy of our own death
We must live with courage then

To authenticate our secret desires
Those wishes we forgot to nurture
While we are taking care of others
Fulfilling our duty like a role of daily travels

We are enhancing our former selves
In a ripple of quiet begging to this universe
That only leaves a human a few shells
A few divorces, a few truly eloquent love-affairs

That eclipse the quality of memory
To ennoble us to the core.

Out of the night that covers us

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Pleasing Instinct

Out of the night that covers us
There is a pleasure in mingling minds
That is more erotic than the unconquerable
Soul we share, engendered brain

I have not shuddered warmth, only happy tears
My head is a paradise full of neuron
Yearning to touch dendrite

Memory yearning to be extinguished
In the intelligence of another
And that, is the menace of years
That it’s so rare to find a kindred spirit

To entertain our highest parts
And to be a captain of enigmatic parts
To surprise, to withstand quirks

And add to the fuel of the clutch of circumstance
If you are the one I am lit for
Than I am a light or the oldest rods
And you are the serpent of my most

Erotic dreams, where we linger
Soul to soul, with body only as conclusion
Where I’d kiss your ankles to the wind

And retreat for clothes that serve no purpose
Between such natural intimacy as you and me.

Becoming acutely aware of all that I took for granted ##SundayBlogShare #poetry


Becoming acutely aware of all that I took for granted

Someone, somewhere
Can understand me
I’ll never meet them
Not be loved like they could love me

I’ve so much to learn
About finding the right people to love
God, but life is loneliness
Despite all friendships made

Inspite of grinning faces and passing stages
‘Parties’ with no purpose in truth
Loneliness of the soul well
It’s an artistic condition some


Suffer from it more than others
Like allergies, a more unique brain
Someone, somewhere
Has a brain a little more like mine

I’ll never meet them, but sometimes
Knowing that they exist, helps me
Get through the day, writing
Like an unabridged journal from me to you


It’s overpowering and horrible to be self-conscious
Making up narrative and plots, inventing them
All the time, like spirit-chatter
Why so festive, why so gloomy
Because my inner voice is powerful.

Author’s Note:

This is a tribute to all human beings who suffer from the condition known as “poet’s brain”, please share it on facebook, twitter and other social media. There is some evidence that writers, artists and especially poets have more challenges regulating their emotions, lifestyle, anxiety and subsequent consequences of struggles with mental illness sometimes leading to breakdowns, and even to premature deaths by suicide.
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Celebrity of You

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Celebrity of You

Parting is all we know of each other
And God is all we know of heaven
So why does it feel

I walk to heaven to meet you?
They say that God is everywhere
But I felt him most
In your presence

What does it mean,
So tell me the truth and tell it with a slant
I want a love that is anterior to life
Dying a wild night
In the arms of an eternal youth.



My hands
Serenade your cheeks with a lifetime
Of devotion that never wavered
Saving each other, we were touched
Immortally, like souls the same
Frequency, my hands
Opening the curtains of your secrecy
Like butter, to cloud your nudity with
Cooling rain, your lips with
The kisses that we invent to sanction
Our years together, which drip
With the water of our mortality
Our bodies are spiritual vessels
There is no doubt, our faith
Invested marriage for working together
Each hour we spent on each other
Came back in ways we couldn’t even imagine.

To the lovely couple

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
~ Rabindranath Tagore


During our love, houses were completed
spiritual homes where you
rebuilt my foundations

idealistic comforts that
somehow I had forgotten
among the gardens, listing
the essential spiritual pleasure
that had no country to root for

but accepted all beings
During our love, we felt
a peace where we were completed

finally, irrevocably, whole
as if lost forever previously
our touch was that mutual
sensation of shared mysticism
the chime of fortitude

and unity so foreign to our
previous human experience
you and I were still like

strange visions to behold
universal love, at just
the right temperature.



Tonight then, is a rare event
For all souls wander somehow
To the opening clouds

Where the sun spills rainbows
When I went away, you were still unmarried
Though after the festivals, I knew

You were gone, tomorrow who knows
What Mountains may separate us
But I know we share a frequency

The balances day and night
After tomorrow, who can say?
Who or what is lovelier than that feeling

Of knowing the Mystic district
Of the Universe, is populated by others
Some intimate, others foreign

Tonight then, is a rare event
The time I join by candlelight
The realization, I am not alone

An infatuation, that we are not alone
I strain my sight, after birds flying home
Who cares for High Offices, human riches

Give me the sunset bent in bamboo union
And the smile of the new love
That is the reincarnation of all love ever known.

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I slept on you like a bent finger
With the world’s love against me
I was the finger-length of all love
All innovation and ascended
To a dream-interpretation of
The ultimate lucid content


I shone with you like I had never before –
Attending to life without theory
Without unnecessary belief
Our sentiments were the act of sharing
So close a bond we offered Life
Like guests, the tapestry of
Our private collection of treasures
These valentine-faces, and beautifully generous


We stood in dimensions without
Grief, regret or anger: not a trace
We shuffled into Spring with threaded
Kindness, inconspicuous endurance


Loving the blind journey as one guards
A white shadow of protection
Our lives served a White Sun
Of a benevolent Garden of Gifts
Our only Tree of Knowledge were
The last fruits of compassion
At the end of all existence.

where we two first exchanged our looks


The signature of love is exceptional
it was no passing encounter
our souls were destined to meet

dear friend, momentary & casual
as the sudden close of a trip
where all spirits gather

somewhere, along the way
you came close to my soul
the unfolding of ourselves
together, moment by moment

you did not occupy condescension
but an open humility pervaded
everything you did and said

you allowed me a glimpse into
another kind of life, where all
goodbyes and departures meet

the last timeless acquaintance
until, I see all souls as familiar
the easy remembrance of futurity

Dear! how common and easy is
our new home, where we in this shiny neighborhood
rejoice in the wilderness of shared potential

the signature of empathy of our renaissance
it was no passing encounter
we were ordained to meet and share like this.

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