Bride of Decadence

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Under un-made satin sheets
of unholy decadence
riddled with sneering wrinkles
left by my hasty fingers
trying in vain to erase
the past few hours,
smelling of musky maleness
and stinking perspiration
of unwashed bodies
under them lay hidden
the corpse of my innocence
as bud of chastity was crushed
cruelly into satin sheets
smeared with
blood of my deflowering
or is it the stain of
wounds of bleeding hopes?

in my eyes a half spun dream
of innocence takes
its last sighing breath
A love story ,
my incomplete love story
has died and my eyes
like barren holes,
dried of all emotion
staring into space vacantly,
fail to weep in angst.

I have no tears of regret
for its grave under unmade sheets
innocent in my adolescent years
we shared smiles
across windows
that faced each other
a mute friendship blossomed
and grew into a saga of love
with conversing eyes
that met across the windows
as I stepped into juvenility.

Promises never spoken aloud
but shared in caressing gaze
were fragrant in my soul, my life
making me forget my fate, my plight
when the time came for me
To follow my mother
in the market’ s boudoir
protest shrieked fell
on indifferent ears
my mother helpless
and old before her years
became the shackle
of my rebelling love.

today with unshed tears
swallowed, I became
a bride of the decadent night
my innocence was put on sale
for vultures in human form
as the flowers braided
in my hair were molested
by hands scalding ,
bruising my skin in lust
I burnt over the pyres of hell
my innocent love story became
a sighed wish of the past
and I became another bride
of decadent nights
with body for sale
as a living carcass…

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Epitaph of Narcissus

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epitaph

epitaph engraved
on tombstones as heartfelt accolades
to a departed soul,
poured emotions in golden words
written with ink of love,

but those whom none adored
whose insipid lives
remained barren, devoid
of ambrosia of affection,
are forgotten, buried in oblivion.

echo

Narcissus had led such a life
a selfish ,self-engrossed existence
shunning all enamored
his ethereal, sculpted beauty
never acknowledging beauty of love
and boon he’d been endowed.

ruining the nymph Echo
and death of Amenias in love
on his threshold ,
bewailing his heartlessness
the Nemesis then punished
his callous and vain stance
falling a victim to his own beauty
enchanted by his own reflection
he died of unrequited love.

curse of narcissus

by poolside bloomed a sad flower
with grief in transparent veins,
gazing lovelorn at own reflection
in the Styx with longing,

a flower with soporific breath
and hueful bloom,
it lured the innocent Persephone
away aiding Hades in her abduction
as the pure elixir changed into wine
in blazing hearth of earth~
such is saga of daffodil
invisibly etched on history…

Plight of an Echo

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always compelled to
to repeat other’s words
from infliction of tone
and of timber,
shrillness or gruffness
reverberated identically,

with no freedom
of expression,
born from uterus of noise
as it crashes in mid-flight
against geometric contours
of distant, igneous hills,
it is reflection of sound.

it is voice of silence
reverberating in
quietude of glens
and winding labyrinths,
uttered by invisible throat
of unseen wind.

and reiteration
of unrequited love’s saga,
long lost within oblivion of eons,
bane of glib lies
brought her  this curse
and unloved by vain narcissus,
she became just a voice
a mere reflection…

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…