FEVER OF LOVE

My heart knows the rhythm of your footsteps
As they climb the stairs to the room where
I lay weak in knees by your spells
Of poetic charms; the smoothest seduction.
I lay naked, in absolute bliss caused by
The fever of love that runs through my veins.

As you open the door, your lovely voice
Carves over my soul, the verses
Of romance you script to my name;
“The bee has returned to his honey
To exchange poems with sweet kisses
And share this lively fever of love”.

As the rising tides wash away our footprints
I`m unable to trace those yesterdays
To remember the path to “here”.
For all I care and know is – this is bliss.
Coffee is too sweet with kisses on your lips.
Is both weakening and strengthening; the fever of love.

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CHASING RIMBAUD

I tore out my winged limbs
And burnt all its feathers
For my desire to live was still lit.
Since happiness irritates
For the one desire that grew deepest
And burnt brightest; to be a genius
Can`t be earned but is a gift
Granted with the curse of existence.
Every guffaw and smile questioned
And mocked my dream that will always be a dream.
I cut my heart asunder
For it bothered with songs of malarkey
And through joy I put a spear of sorrow
That was stuck in my wounded neck
For the choking truth of normality
Is a suffering too brutal to endure
And my spirit, now, is in fragments.
For, once again, my breaths are reasonless.

NEXUS OF AFFINITY

I remember the day of your first sight

When my eyes stared as you walked into light

My tongue slurred, mind crashed because I

Had too many words at once and I was muddled

Which to reveal and which to hoard for pages

And being me, I kept every word away from lips

And gave them to you in my poesy.

 

Oh Yadira, it was the start of something wonderful

Maybe at snail’s pace but graceful as a deer

We’ll find our pace for we’ve found our places.

I’m not that pillar you hold when you feel weak,

I can be. I’m not that soul who offers you a guffaw

But I can be the soul who smears you with whisks of love

When the world turns cold and breaks your heart

For the nexus of affinity that lingers between

Is by us belonging to analogous coteries.

TO YADIRA

The last dawn that carries to deliver
That mild zest that flows out the spare sleep
From my eyes, and willingly, I throw the sheets
Away with my legs; that dawn has arrived.
Yadira, do not let my words scare your rhythm
But I will miss the liveliness you offered
In those dull moments of morn when
It was just me and my cigarette
But since you, morn has a shine
I knew not until you and me
Shared a smoke and a laugh.
I might not remember the stories
But I won`t forget the memories
I made in this terse voyage of affinity.
May us find us on some different corner
Of some boulevard with a novel story
To share a laugh, and reminisce with a smoke.

TO A GIRL

My reticence restrains me
From revealing the unsaid words that
Pester my heart since your first wave;
“Oh beauty, you are beautiful.”
The curve on your salmon lips when
You smile or break into a chortle,
The mystery that sets in your eyes
And the design that hides under attire
Is as seducing as it is wonderful.
But do not feat the silence
For it is there where hearts bind,
In that moment I pause and ponder
Upon the beauty of yours, that tempts and torments.

POEM IN FLESH

since that destined afternoon

when we met, I`ve failed at every attempt

to script a poem for you

for whenever I drew your portrait in my

palace of conception, it always was

amorphous and white for unrevealed

was what shall light the fire of muse

but last mighttide I poured in

colours and paints I conceived

from our short colloquy.

i saw strange shades

that laign with mine fortuitously

and I crave to see the colors and their shades

that sit quietly, unknown to me.

do not doubt these verses and even

though they intend to smear flattery, I

script no colourless lies when I say

in the world, you`re the only poem in flesh.

A BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

I sat there alone, prisoned in poetry

Scripting verses of melancholy

Then my eyes stumbled upon a soul

Sitting empty in idleness

Looking at the screen and ceiling.

I attempted to perceive her face

From the pattern of her hair and the design

Of her skin but blurred was my vision

Until she turned to reveal

Her beautiful face possessing a smile

That’s seductive for it seduced me

To smile from the frown my face held

And the gentle wave of her soft hands

Was graceful enough to inspire me

To compose for her, this poem.

TO MY LATE LOVE

All I desire I dream in my sleep

Then when waking pinches, I weep

For if I think very hard and too deep

Oozing blood from my palpable wounds did sweep

My life`s joy with my love`s death

And I taste melancholic agony in every breath.

I cry red tears, my tongue, it furrows.

My solitary spirit is lost in a maze of burrows

And my muse merges in me when from a cursed chalice

Grieving I gulp venom and soothing malice

And I finally feel comfort in surreality

For I can only mourn and rue yesterday`s reality.

With a guffaw, I choke with my spittle, all thoughts of prudence

While I drown in a black sea of my despondence

A PRISTINE SOUL

Blessed are we to be touched by a pristine spirit

Under the clothes or beneath the skin

A Goddess figure and deity-muse of wordsmiths

She’s she, a fierce lioness with a tender heart

Sharp deft brain with a delicate touch

Sporadic gallant coquette with infant’s innocence

Swinging, seized on that beautiful face

Clever but non-cunning, an aberrant maverick

As she unfurls her hair to let breathe the ambience she suffuses

Smoothly in her every polished word, so polite

But offers no impunity for who’s rude and ruses

Sends “loads of love” for men and women she loves, with delight
Slides over the surface as fish in the sea

Runs with grace as a deer in wilderness

Aims with eagle eyes, with flight of a dove

Mother muse of beauty and love

Filling spots of malice and dire with benevolence

Transforming stones into soft white pillows

Lively brown iris of lovely eyes and

As exuberant as the skies, the magic of her smile

And the inexplicable shine of her grin

When those light swarthy cheeks swell

And widened lips inviting for a cozy kiss

Whispers of kisses still echo in my memories

The rushes of her caress, she was a luxury
An adept mother, with jokey nurture

Forting her two gems with her warm arms

Singing my melodies as lullabies

To put those monsters to sweet dreams of her euphonies

Reading them her self-scripted stories

Of love, friendship, kindness and honesty

Laggard chase all around for every next bite

When indisposed, we skip sleep for night

That wrinkled forehead when wounded they came home

And a surprise for their every failure and every victory
“God shall never give a mother in her to none but us”
“God shall never give a daughter in her to none but me”

Was the benison her father pleaded in last writs
“God shall never give a companion in her to none but me”

“A soul who loved, lived and enlivened other souls” I wrote on her epitaph

HYMN TO BEAUTY

I’m fire, a poet and I
found my gasoline; my muse.
She appeared in black and white
With a smile and a charming phrase on her tongue
Doused in infectious liveliness
For it tempted my lips to widen
In the design of a smile, the only
reciprocation to her presence.
Listen, excitement and enxiety, I feel
When I envision the rendezvou
Hence, I often blush and rarely shiver in rush
But only joy runs in my veins
And captures me in its essence
When she sits near me and we exchange
Words and familiarising with the being
That resides within us. And the beauty
That burns is when we converse on pages
For fetters of shyness break in that version of me.
The prints left by those words lasts
Longer than those scripted by tongue
But the bliss of staring in her black eyes
Settles deeper through my ears than eyes
For the euphonic voice delivered by her
Heart through her long neck is sweeter
Than the Whispers written by her hands
That by touch feel tender but not fragile.

She asks how do I know of her benevolent spirit.
Oh my Muse of Beauty, more than you revealed
I’ve read in you and scripted on you.
Never question or doubt the genuinity
Of those metaphors, look closely
And you’ll find their pristine truth
In every verse of my every poem.
Attire that your soul wears, tempts
The poet in me at every wonderful meet
Hence, I’m speechless, for every word spoken
Will expose the demon who’s a big fool
With a hint of mischief, whose attempts
To flattery can be creepy and his
Verses filled talks might confuse you
For all he aspires is to admire
And show you to you through his eyes.
And if you ask how does he see you,
Re-read this hymn, oh Beauty!
And rest every poem I’d penned.