Stranded

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as if,

we are stranded on a beach

like emptied bottles and slippers abandoned,

perpetually swallowed by bellows bleak,

awaiting to be claimed

 

…… ……

 

yet we stray,

in refuge of muck, moss and sand

this love is like a sea wave,

it brims the forsaken with hope

and empties as it recedes away

 

©Written Frames, 2018

P.S. No, I have not been to oceans today. Yet the image of an empty bottle stranded on the shoreline is so vivid before my eyes. I think of growing old and perhaps empty as the oceans cradle the bottle in its spasmodic symphony of life, as such it comes and as such it goes away…..

The Noose

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cloistered jars of pickles and sweets

ferment in fury behind the doors ajar,

festooning you with an impulse to peep

the froth and fumes of constricted love

 

strenuous breaths with sneeze and cough

scent of flowers congests your nostrils,

mouth-breathing the glory of the days gone

you question my mournful mouldering

 

as if nothing happened…

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Freedom in love makes you fall in love with chains and shackles of it, willingly!

 

 

Erosion

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Flowers bloom, but wilt
Bespeaks of morrow’s quest, a change
Of a life lived and sustained

Love thrives and booms, the firelight fades
A living accustomed to heart throbs
Once were desirous, now mundane

Between us, the land of roses laments dry
From being loved, and then unloved
For your rose had caught an evil eye

You plucked them all out, a maddening sprouts
That even weeds left us two alone
On the barren land with her soils eroding…..

 

©Written Frames, 2018

You fight, so to win and you fight for love only to loose.

Spectrum

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your laugh is like a wandering cloud of Winter,

caressing the moonlit sky, as if sweeping

the diaphanous veil of desire and demure

with trembling touch of new found love

 

among the dark tresses of unyielding beauty,

you are hiraeth of a selenophile, a longing

flickering phenomena of silver triangles

surmounted they twinkle, upside down

 

shimmers of stardust engulf me

perennial pirouette of love and its feeling

empyrean scatters of light, such iridescent gleam

through roses and sunflowers, it found me…

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Look at the skies and you will see what you feel.

Chemistry

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we are bracing blue waters

indivisible with a palm line drawn

grazing touch from head to toe

we cohere, our shared bonds

 

rumbling of the night we met

reaches the heavens sparkling heft

mitosis of the stars, thunders unbolt

we combine and between us,

an exoergic downpour

 

fluent stream of affection forecasts

dulcet echo of our tongues clasped

click, click, such luscious schmatz

pirouette of the miscible will last,

this thirst of romance

 

unyielding …

 

o dear, my dear

what if heavens decry?

our ‘unusual’ love and the ‘common’ eyes pry

we are on trial, we shalt not cease to try

you know, change is just a matter of time

 

………..  (Just in case if time reclines)

 

O, mock the skies about to cleave

let them unlatch the housed lightning

strike the fated chains, us electrified

parting from the earth we vaporized

hands held, in the air we fly

divisible but inseparable

together we swirl to the skies

 

unswerving…

 

 

© Written Frames, 2018

 

PS : I have been so water inspired lately that not in my farthest dreams I knew I would be kicked in with ideas around chemistry of water and a simple chemical reaction involved in its formation.

 

 

 

Prints

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graffiti of time, so layered with grime

lost is her luster, accustomed eyes’ crime

 

scatter some white, the powder on her rind

cloak of cellophane tape to wrap and bind

 

stiff is the nude, her transparency chastised

scrape off, such scarred impressions she hide

 

testimony of love, lust and of dying stars

fingerprints of lost lovers, the skin so marred

 

embossed in such doleful memoir is her skin

the recital of handprints she was cradled in

 

gather the latent, dust off these remains

off memory, off complaint, so free of stains

 

weep, weep, let her weep all she needs

scrub it off, wipe it off, score her skin till it bleeds

 

behold her blank wall, o the artists enthralled

an exotic art awaits her to cherish and own

 

she deserves

 

© Written Frames, 2018

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