Imaginations

I pass your home in a slow Vermilion dawn.
The blinds are drawn, and the windows are open
The soft breeze from the meadow
Is like your breath on my face.
All day long, I walk in the intermittent rainfall
Picked a vermilion tulip in the deserted park
Bright raindrops cling to its petals
At five o' clock it's a lonely colour in the city
I pass your home in a rainy evening
I can see you faintly in between lighted walls
Late, at night I sit before a white sheet of paper,
Until a fallen vermilion petal quivers before me.

Calligraphy Of Desire

My velvet brush dips deep and lingers there

In the warm inkwell of your endless desires

The ink of passion flows for me tonight

To let me show how it feels my muse

To be so truly in need of you,

I yearn to write poems on lover's power

Upon the warm supple parchment of your skin

Secret words that only you can comprehend

Till my brush dries and I return to dip again

In the ink made by Gods for

the Calligraphy of desire.

Prelude

The pale evening glows Outside my window,
A ray of evening glow
Bathes my room
Your smile zingles
In the corners of my ceiling,
The echo of your kiss
Is the sound of pearls
While poured into wine cups
Your eyes have a celestial light,
You are a circle of blue Around the edifice of my thoughts,
I sleep and wake; wake and sleep
But ceases never my dream…
(At 12 o clock)
When nights are long and loneliness haunts
When eyes starve for response
And heart fears dejection
When nothing pacifies…
I sit by my window staring at the pines of distant parabola
A silent whisper…
A silent tear…
With all my heart I wished you were near…
Dawn of silence
Coerce me with explosion of emotions…
And then …

Loneliness

Dashing against the wall
All but Dashing against the wall
Caught up languidly for suffocation
As the morbid silence sneaks
And the vessels are all void
My sunstroke eyes looking
At a captured Eifel of radium skies.
What captivity all aroud,
What dance of shadows in succession
A kaleidoscope of metamorphoses
In my defracted inner universe
Every sip of coffee burns
The world of my private shrouds,
In drab loneliness of this city