Rendezvous with Solitude…



standing alone in
the quietude as vines
of ivy entwine themselves
around your sinuous contours
like chords of passion
holding your soul in thrall
as they strum threnodies of
desire on taut strings
of overwhelming emotions,
your breath blends in
the breeze as nuances
of citrus dreams and
luscious strawberry kisses.with two pink roses
from the redolent meads,
fresh and dew-kissed,
eager to enhance
the raven beauty of
silken mane flowing down
as shiny cascade,
she savors sensual whispers
of the tangible solitude,
hummed and crooned
in mesmerizing rhythm as
she loses herself
in undulating straits of
loving reminiscences.

in this rendezvous
with her procellous thoughts,
in this alcove cohabited
by verdant creeping ivy
and a cool, soothing breeze,
you try to untangle the vines
of ivy and your thoughts,
to redefine your passion,
your longings and wants,
yearning for the sunshine
pouring from skies
shining a larkspur azure,
to thaw the ice freezing
her emotions of love,
so love could shine as sun
on begonia skies at dawn…


A Rendezvous With Crescent Moon…


crescent moon2

the moon is a silver sliver
perched over lapels of blackberry nights,
a brooch on nocturnal bosom
like fragment of wilted dream lurking
in vacuous ambiguities of night sky,
a cloudy quilts cuddle
it in soft cotton-wool realms,
a flickering smile of the night
seeking to dilute its morose overtones.

we together shared a rendezvous of silence
as it alit on ripples of grappa bay
its countenance wreathed in tired wrinkles,
we shared roasted peanuts
sprinkled in rock salt and pepper
munching our elusive togetherness in quietude
sipping hot cocoa aromas
with chocolate-addicted tongues
licking away molten mustaches
from upper lips coated in sweetness,
as the night flowed gently
as a river epitomizing quiet grace.

wearing lunar crescent in raven mane
night preens in lake’s mirror,
as a coquette wearing starry tiara~
I and the moon share stimulating dialogue
talking of shooting stars leaving
stardust footprints in argent stilettos,
to prophesy the moods of morrows,
of sultry scents of blooming jasmine
destined to perfume threshold of dawn,
of frenzied moths in salsa
beneath jaundiced sheen of street lamps.

swapping smiles we played with fireflies–
crooning lullabies of fluorescence,
gathering dewdrops from sleeping lotus petals
it was a fragrant moment
when time stood still entranced
until the serenade of falling rain broke
the trance as bursting bubbles,
and you fled to hide under the clouds
only to foolishly drench yourself
in the pouring chill of rain-showers…

crescent moon1