Popcorn Moments

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Days are
like popcorns in a pan
bursting and popping
with surprise moments,
gravid with pleasant anticipation
minutes swollen with
the unexpected yet delightful,

My two year old
is an enigma,
his intrigue changing
my jaded, pragmatic outlook,
as I discover life anew
peeling its layers like an onion

he laughs aloud
and cries the next instant,
scattering his emotions
like marbles in sunshine,

playing peek-a-boo with my scarf
he wears a bowl on his head,
babbling and prattling
his ambiguous verbiage
~ he creates a strain
quixotic yet musical

within innocent palms
he seeks to capture butterflies,
racing after fleeting shadows
he smells of sunshine and wildflowers
and sugar and spice,

wearing huge boots
in tiny pattering feet,
he seeks to measure
winding trails of existence.

showering its benediction
over our parched souls,
erasing the silhouettes of quietude
with his giggles and laughter,

fingerpainting rainbow on
the drab and the commonplace
he defines ecstasy
in all its shades and more…

Sensual Whispers

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caved pillows
imprinted in twin heads,
wrinkles furrowed
on satin sheets of silent morn,

lingering whispers of sweet-nothings
murmured in night’s ear,

remnants of molten, vanilla candles,
their dead wicks winking
in early refulgence~
murmur stardust-secrets,

Echo of blending breaths
entangled and fragrant with passion,
caresses exotic
like molten, dark chocolate,
trickling down butterscotch,

emblazoned
on alabaster skin
as hibiscus petals on dawn~
sensuality defines itself.

I Dreamed of Mother…

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colored tendrils
frozen on distant horizons,
like versicolor yarn
tangled in disarray
~reflecting confusions
of memories mutated
by whimsy of racing eons.

I saw her
face forgotten yet
familiar,
like a faded photo,

her smile like a wisp of fall
floating in potpourri draught,
or a sliver of silver
on uncompromising black
of fathomless night.

fingers yearned
to caress those contours
chiseled in reverie,
but palsied I stood,
mesmerized as a moth
in lantern light,

while she beckoned
with a promise of embrace
long hankered for.

like a rain-song
her presence satiated
the thirst for maternal love,
as my loneliness
was erased forever and beyond,

I relived those
scanty memories
nostalgia a rolling spool
of precious but elusive
moments captured
like fireflies in
in a crystal bottle,
spread prismatic winks
of delight.

her voice
echoed dwarfing
the distance of lost years,
butterflies fluttered
in a hue-filled fog,
my gaze filled
with anticipation
of love nurtured by love
of a mother
now my shadow…

Crown Cinquain of Love…

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your lips
taste of nectar,
your voice a manna dream,
spun on loom of sweet desire
always.

you flow
within me as  
fluid fire and feel
like a rippling cascade in
my arms.

you are
song of my soul,
echoing inside me
within the depths of my being
softly.

glowworm
of my darkness,
soft tempest of my soul,
diamond of my heart forever 
and ever.

to you 
I am braided,
in thought, spirit and soul,
forever you and I are joined
in love.

 

You are No Longer Here…

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vines of roses and wisteria,
citrus blossoms
and sweet-sighed frangipani,
boughs laden in bouganvillia,
bottle brushes and hibiscuses in red,

variegated dahlias
and conventional sunflowers
with many an anonymous flower~
bloom today in April on
this fragrant spring morning–
each with an echoing sussurus
of your inherent beauty.

they bloom as lovely as ever
the glory of nature in
our front yard born of your efforts,
but as always today somehow
the joy they give is missing,

I feel your touch in the softness
of their fondled petals,
and your smile in their pollen ‘grins’,
today you are not there
to savor coffee with me in
our cherished, nurtured alcove

and I feel my thirst become eternal
never to be quenched by
another draught of caffeine…

A Priceless Gift

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subtle fingers of mist cover
yesteryears in sighs with cracked edges
and sepia footprints are left
by filtering recollections
on the bosom of tranquil moments
– transient scribbles of reverie
like the hues of fading crepuscule.

distant echo of words 
long forgotten is revived by 
lethargic solitude interwoven with
with threads of recapitulations,
as seemlessly snippets of 
long erased past unfold 
in burnished syllables of the old.

I remember an incident,
watching it play on mind’s canvas
almost like a vaguely remembered scene
from a movie seen once,
I am a child again-
all knee scrapes, laughter and mischief
visiting the shops with mother,
my eyes alight with delight
at the myriad colors, lights, smells-

I fell in love with her
as she sat high on a glass shelf 
in a dainty frock in the shop,
pestering mummy I whined for it
and with a smile-tipped sigh
she bought it for me.

pleased I went prancing downstreet,
to show my doll to father
and learnt my mother had spent
money meant for her saree to indulge me
even after all these years, flown 
under time’s bridge as a river,
I still cherish this memory like
a memento of love from
my mother long since departed
to tread cottonwool clouds with angels
her smile lighting up life’s drab alleys forever…

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Versatile are the Definitions of Love…

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love has
many degrees
and myriad levels,

loving 
a sweet child,
held close 
in its mother’s arms,
is like the love
of sun-rays for dew
transient
and soon evanesced.

loving 
one’s own child,
of one’s own sinews
and womb,
is like nurturing love
of cotyledons
for tender embryo,
or of sepals 
for petals yet to 
unfurl into flower.

loving
a friend is
like the love of
butterflies and roses,
of grass blades and dew
and of flamingos
with blooming lotuses,
a love that binds
the unlike
with bonds of
togetherness.

loving
a sweetheart
is like the eternal love
of purple twilight
for cricket’s evensong
and of starlight
and dancing glowworms,
of moonbeams
and lovelorn oysters.