kindred

go away quick

come here slow

play fast and loose

attack me like a foe!

so that you can

be in my clan

then, together,

we will,

i promise,

bring to fruition

yesteryear’s plans

to destroy

me.

All that I Want

I want limitless love,

beatific music,

soul-stirring poetry,

the company of a clore.

I want madness,

a mildly lit room,

a glass of wine,

a gifted red rose.

I want a kindred spirit

with a heart of gold

and a handsome face

to adore.

I want all of this

and much, much more.

but I want to wait or

work hard for it no more.

Building the Dream!

i tell you about a place –

where raging, strong waters

pierce grey, shapeless stones

and bright, beautiful rainbows

run across plush green lands.

i closely remember this place –

where promises are built

from lifeless, stolen filth

where love finally wins

and fears quietly fade

for, not too long ago,

i dreamed this dream,

so I know it’s there.

somewhere.

Can You?

walk a few miles,

and then some,

in my shoes,

and tell me,

if all these fears

that beset my feet,

wrack my fingers,

fleetingly touch you?

Spring to Life

clear, bright light pierced through thick mist, then all of a sudden it stopped snowing, the sun rose up high in the sky, the weather turned warmer and the air comforting, the most colourful rainbow followed, the rose buds became softer and the grass greener, the birds came out and started singing, and it was exactly at that time of the day I met you.

mixed blessings

call me time and again

an incurable romantic.

accuse me offensively

of revering unrealism.

laugh at me heartlessly

for i over-idealize you.

or just leave me forlorn,

if i’m gallingly tractable.

but i’ve a warm, not weak, heart.

i sincerely think love’s beautiful.

when i overlook all your flaws,

don’t think I’m blind, senseless!

i’m essentially very self-critical.

i gotta worship somebody else.

i don’t want to learn

the art of moderation.

the real thrill comes

with chasing and loving

in maddening extremes.

i can savor dejection,

the enchanting highs,

the soul-piercing lows,

whatever comes along.

i’d not fall like the usual.

i’ll plummet into abysses.

you still think I’m mad, do you?

ah, i can defend my rosy vision!

fairness is giving all in love.

and i’m nothing if not fair.

i’m also realistic, believe me.

i know not all romantic tales,

end with promises and vows,

of being together life long.

but i don’t let that stop it,

from beating fast and wild,

and from giving in again.

if i fail tomorrow or today,

i’ll let life find another way.

if you find someone better,

i’ll send good wishes to you,

and search someone crazier,

after shedding a tear or two.

you agree, i’m practical too?

come closer, and be all mine,

if i’ve convinced you in time.

or try read me some more,
i’m made of words galore!

tomorrow is another day

wandering in sunless woods,

she supplicated a flying fay,

and uttered in an outré tone,

“my happiness lives far away

I am sinking in a secret dole.

say something or start a fray.”

the fay looked strikingly wise,

had a countenance rather gay.

he wanted to go to moon,

but landed swiftly to say,

“past is like a nightmare,

you and I woke -

the future is up in the air,

but there’s hope -

every thing life garden choses

doesn’t always come up roses!

you’re gonna find silver-bullets

to kill what inflames you today.

you must grin, you know!

tomorrow is another day”

the fickle finger of fate

beholding sun, sending gold sunshine

I began filling stream-cut, steep ravine

with light and power, illuminating

dark, dead, eroded corners of mind.

then fetched water from blue heaven

frecking with abundance and passion,

to let soft roses and tulips blossom,

in an ancient, hardened eye garden.

without no reason no rhyme

gambling all to create sublime

I invoked letters from the psyche

in dabs of soulful, undying rhyme  

to define love worthy of Gods,

that’d soothe and succor souls

with just the power to override,

Aphrodite’s jealousy and pride.

but destroy all that I create,

thou, the fickle finger of fate.

I’d build beauty structures again,

La Vive! O ye fickle finger of fate.