The birds flew and romped

It rained all night last night.
It rained till noon today.
The clouds cleared.
The sun shined.
The birds flew and romped
on apple, cherry and pear trees,
singing their songs:
choo, choo, choo
twit twit, twee too, twee too
kwaeyam, kwaeyam
chich, chich, chich….chich, chich
coo, coo….. coo, coo
kret, kret…..kret kret
kruch, kruch koo, kruch, kruch
caw, caw….caw, caw

There were finches, sparrows
robins, blue jays, cardinals
doves, crows and there were
some black little birds
with yellow beaks and feet.
I sat in my garden watching them.
Many came to the bird feeder to feast.
I copied their sounds as they sang
and felt I was learning how to sing
songs of joy in nature’s tongues.

To live to the fullest your life

Darling, if I were to die tomorrow,
Cry for me for a day or two.
Don’t mourn me for too long
And start living your life.

Darling, I were to go insane tomorrow,
Put me in a loony ward.
Come and visit me if you will
But go on with your life.

Promise me, you won’t mess
Your brain with karma and dharma;
And not live in misery rest of life,
But would find a new lover

To live to the fullest your life.

Note: This poem was composed on reading
a comment by Vennela on my poem Sweet Love, I Want Your Love.

For Love

For love I’d read Omar Khayyam
a million times to you.
But love for you is dead
unless you open your head,
beyond butter and bread,
to that soft flowing feeling
of a running brook inside you.

On reading a poem of Robert Creeley,
titled, The Warning

In His Villa

In his villa, I saw the guru
hitting the keys at his PC,
writing some crap on holy trinity
and to know your god
through seven paths -
Or something like that.
I asked him:
“Why do you write all this crap?”
“Because it brings me lot of money.”
He replied sheepishly.

On reading a poem of Stephen Crane,
titled, In the Desert

A God in Wrath

A god in wrath
Let a man’s wife die, let his son die
And then in war the man lost his sight.
He asked god: “Why me, Lord?”
“I wipe out those who fear me most.”
Replied God.

On reading a poem of Stephen Crane,
titled, A God in Wrath

A Guru Said to God

A guru said to God:
“God, I am spreading seven
spiritual paths. Bless me.”
Said God to him:
“Shut up. Your pocket
is bulging with money.
What more blessings you want?”

On reading a poem of Stephen Crane
titled, A Man Said to the Universe

Let me show you how to make love

Let me lie down on my back.
Come, straddle me on top.
Let me show you how to make love,
Let me show you how to orgasm.

Darling, I've a big meeting coming.
I have to deliver the annual address.
Let’s do what Teitelbaum says.
Let’s get some orgasms.

It’ll release oxytocin.
It will make us feel relaxed.
It will make my mind clear
To deliver my address in calm.

It will decrease my stage fright.
Audience will see me anxiety free.
I don’t want to picture them naked,
Darling, lie down naked beside me.


Note:Inspired from the following news item:

"Orgasm triggers oxytocin release, causing you to feel more relaxed yet energized with a clear mind," says Dr. Jacob Teitelbaum, MD. So instead of saving your energy before the big meeting, a romp in the sheets may be just the thing to help you focus? Yes, says Dr. Teitelbaum. "Sex has been shown to decrease stage fright and anxiety in front of audiences," he adds. "So ignore that old advice to picture the crowd naked - be naked with your partner instead" (before the presentation, of course).”

at http://health.ivillage.com/sexualhealth/sxarousal/0,,8sc1hj71,00.html

She tells me she loves me

She tells me she loves me
And I don’t care.
Never share my love,
Never lay my heart bare.

I love her for her looks and body.
I love her she says she cares.
But she is so jealous, so crazy,
She can’t let me breathe air.

I don’t love her for her mind.
Her thoughts are so confined.
She spies on anything I do –
For nothing so much ado.

I am beginning to realize,
Body and looks are not
What love is made of. A beautiful
Mind is what now I care for.

Red Roses

He sent me a dozen long stem red roses, with a note saying: Darling, I love you. As I placed them in the yellow vase he brought me from Shangai, I caressed them, moving my fingers along long stems. I let my cheeks rest on them, closed my eyes and said: Yes my darling, I love you too.

He took me to dinner that evening and ordered champagne with biryani. Suddenly, while sipping champagne, he proposed to marry me. I was shocked. I hadn’t known him for long. I wanted more time.

The ring in his pocket pained. He went silent after that. He brought me home, bade me good night, and as he walked away, I panicked. Running after him I wanted to say I loved him. He said: “It’s getting cold, you know, step fast inside.”

I never saw him again. For years I waited for him. Those red roses now celebrate my memories of his love in my journals. I have taken them few times with me across the globe on my trips. I caress their dry petals and kiss them when I think of him. I had bought a baby blue silk sari embroidered with red roses at the borders to wear for him if one day I saw him again.

I was young and naïve then, just out of college. I did not know how to accept his love. I am writing this now for him. If he happens to read this, he will know I truly loved him.

Whenever somebody mentions biryani or champagne, I go silent. I feel cold waves running through me and I hear him: “It’s getting cold, you know, step fast inside.”

He sent me a dozen long stem red roses

He sent me a dozen
long stem red roses,
with a note saying:
Darling, I love you.

As I placed them in the yellow
vase he brought me from Shangai,
I caressed them moving my fingers
On stems. I let my cheeks

rest on roses, closed my eyes
and said: yes, darling, I love you too.
He took me to dinner that evening
and ordered champagne with biryani.

Suddenly while sipping champagne,
He proposed to my surprise.
I hadn’t known him for long,
I wanted more time.

The ring in his pocket pained.
He went silent most of the time.
He brought me home, bade
good night, and as he walked away

I panicked. Running after him
I wanted to say I loved him.
He said: “it’s getting cold,
you know, step fast inside.”

Note: After reading a poem of Anna Akhmatova.

Sweet love, I want your love

When I am away from you,
All depressed and messed up
in my day to day work,
I think of you.

I think of moments of passions,
I think of fun we had.
Sweet love, I begin missing you.
Sweet love, I want your love.

Sometime I think,
I am living not for myself.
I am living because I love you.
Sweetheart, you are my love.

What do I do with my woman?

I write poems of love.
She complains:
They are not for her.

I go to the mall with her.
When some woman there
smiles at me,
she throws a fit: why she.

When I thank a woman
for a job well done,
she goes bonkers cussing her:
why she is the one.

What do I do with my woman?

As the coffee percolated

It was about five this morning,
I got up all aroused to pass water.
I tuned the coffee for two on
and slipped back into the bed.

“Are you ok, honey?”
she mumbled half asleep,
moved her hand on my groins
and lay still as if asleep.

Soon life throbbed in her hand.
She suddenly pulled me
on top of her still mumbling:
“my darling, I love you.”

As the coffee percolated,
we percolated. The sounds
of steaming coffee merged
with our primaeval sounds:

Yes, yes, now…ooee, ooee…

Sliding back to her side, she said:
“Good morning, so wonderful.”
“Yes my darling, you’re wonderful,”
hugging her tight I gasped.

Ripe, dark grapes

As I sat on the sofa,
she suddenly left saying:
honey, I’ll be back soon.
The red roses I sent
were in on the table
in a yellow-blue vase.
Copies of the Ladies Home Journal,
Fear of Flying and Kamasutra lay
beside the flower vase.
On the wall hung a painting
of a Mogul king offering
a red rose to his bare breasted
concubine sitting in front of him,
while another poured wine
into his half-full goblet placed
by the hubble-bubble on his side.

She returned dressed just as
the king’s concubine,
but with drops of honey
on her breasts’ tips.
Sitting beside me placing
her hands on my shoulders,
she smiled and said:
my charming prince
from the land of Kamasutra,
we’ll later have supper and wine.
have mouth-full of desert first
of ripe, dark grapes of mine.

I obliged.

Her dove like breasts swayed

I did not ring the door bell.
She must have been standing
There behind the closed door.

In a pink silk brocaded gown,
No bra, cleavage was visible.
Her dove like breasts swayed,
As she stepped forward.

Her hair was brushed straight,
Falling to her shoulders.
Her lips were like pink rose petals,
Her cheeks like roses so fresh.

We embraced, our lips locked.
She moved her leg between my legs.
“ O darling, I’ve been waiting all evening,
I’m so gland you came,” she said.

They are jealous, my darling

Don’t listen to no one my darling
If they say it’s obsession
And I don’t love you

They don’t know love
They don’t know nothing
They are jealous, my darling
They want to have you

Sweet love, I miss you
Turning in bed at night
I’m sleepless thinking of you

What’s wrong if it’s obsession
If you love me
And I love you

God, you must be pudden-head

God, you must be pudden-head
and not what they say you are.
To sacrifice your only son
(in case he was really your son)
to show you loved the world!

You could not love your only son.
How could you love the world?
John, you made up of this stupid story
for stupid people to sing Jesus' glory.
Wake up, people!

Note: Inspired by John 3:16 in the Bible.

An orange is on the table

My darling, my sweet peach,
An orange is on the table
I’ll squeeze it gently to make the juice
No need to order when we can have it
All fresh in the freshness of night

Your robe is on the rug
White candle is burning lightly
We are in the bed under the comforter
Reveling in love listening to Vivaldi
Sweet love, I feel so heavenly

Note: The second line is after Jacques Prevert in his poem Alicante.

I am thirsting for smooth love

My flower, my lovely professor,
Let’s now see how love feels.
Stop messing your mind
Talking only of love.

Bring here the glasses of wine,
Sit here in my lap, my peach.
I am thirsting for sweet wine,
I am thirsting for smooth love.

Read Khayyam's love verses to me.
Let me nibble at peaches while
I slowly savour sips of wine.
It’s heavenly here under the tree.

You put me on fire, my woman

O woman of my desires
You put me on the fires of passion
To have you in my arms
And love you, love you always.

Your face like two pomegranates halves
Your derriere like round water-melons
Your breasts like two loving doves
You put me on fire, my woman.

My groins burn in wanting you
My arms desire in embracing you
My lips want to rest on your lips
Kissing you, Kissing you always.

O meu amor de meus sonhos
O mi amor de mis sueños
O my love of my dreams
O mon amour de mes rêves
O il mio amore dei miei sogni
I love you, I love you.

My thirst for you is never ending
The more I get you, the more I want you
I want to have you all in me
So that we become eternally one.

I want you my darling
Yo le quiero mi querido
Eu quero meu encantador
Je vous veux mon cheri
La voglio il mio darling
Yes my darling, I want you
Desire you, desire you always.

Prose Poems

Following is a collection of prose poems that I tried to write from the original poetry of well known poets.

1
The Indian Serenade

I arise early from sweet sleep after dreaming of you all night. The winds are soft and the stars are still shining bright in the sky. I arise after dreaming of you with springs under my feet. O sweet darling! I do not know how, but I arrive below your bedroom window.

The wandering airs are slowing down. The stream is silent and the scent of pine trees is everywhere like thoughts in a dream. The nightingale has stopped complaining in her heart. O my beloved! Let my heart be upon yours for me to stop complaining.

O darling! Lift me up from the grass below your bedroom window. I die! I faint! I fail! Let your kisses of love rain on my lips and my pale eyelids. My cheeks are getting cold and white. My heart is beating loud and fast. O sweetheart! Press my heart to your heart once again. It will break there at last.

From the original poem of Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)at http://www.englishverse.com/poems/the_indian_serenade

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2
To the Virgins, to make much of time

Gather your rosebuds while you may, the time is flying fast. The flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying.

Sun, the glorious lamp of the heaven, the higher it gets, the sooner it will end its race, nearer to its setting.

The best years of your life are when you are young and your blood is hot. With time, the best years will become worse, then worst.

Do not be coy. Use you best time if you will. Go and get married. If you waste your prime, you’ll be messing around all your life and will be sorry.


Original poem of Robert Herrick (1591-1674)at http://www.englishverse.com/poems/to_the_virgins_to_make_much_of_time

Tomorrow I will throw away

Tomorrow I will throw away
All my books of philosophy,
All Vedas, Bibles and Gitas.

Today I am cleaning my shelves.
I will keep all books of poetry,
Cooking and gardening.

I will dig up the beds,
Grow flowers, cucumbers
Greens, beans and onions

Potatoes, tomatoes and watermelons.
Enough of the nonsense of gods,
And of father, son and devil.

I do not need all this crap,
Nor do I need philosophers' trash.
I have my God within myself.

I have my own philosophy to live:
Peaceful in harmony with nature and
Not to pawn my brain for Bibles blabbers

And all screwed up philosophers.
They do not know what life is
and what are the ways of the world

but shamelessly show to others.

At the airport

She watched me
When they checked my luggage,
She watched me
When they checked my papers.

Whenever I looked back
I saw her sad looks,
Her eyes meeting mine in despair.
At the gate I waved at her

Wishing her a goodbye
And a kiss in the air.
She waved back,
With tears falling from eyes.

We knew we'd never meet again.
I had to leave. But her life
Seemed to be cut short.
Like a dead statue she stood still.

A dude's desire on first date

On his first date,
he said, “I love you.”
I love you too,she said
Now what?

“Let’s go to bed.”
Why not, she said.
They went to bed
And made love.

To have you fully in me

The touch of your hand
in my hand,
the looks of your eyes
into my eyes,
your full lips
for my wet kiss
and your leaning body
against mine,
in this evening stroll
along the shore,
under the spring moon,
makes me want you now
before we get home.

My sweet darling,
this intense desire
to have you fully in me
that you become
my flesh and bones,
I have only with you.
I never felt like this before.
Destined to be together,
We're made for each other.