When I kissed you
In an arid waste of that cheek
The tangle of your hair did dissect
Indulged in making a tale brief
Of some sombre trivial demise
Of hope forlorn or of rainy nights
And the communication between two hearts
Flowered perhaps in meadows of grass
Sweet whispers stopped not
A song of soul on warm lips
Neither charm away nor stop now
The wonder of love in mind’s crypts.

________________

LADY OF MY DREAMS

Lady of my dreams
Moon colored
Raven haired
Inaccessible
Like a distant shore.

Dwelling here
Closer to the heart
A reason a dream
Undefined yet real.

Moon colored pebbles
Shining among plains
A cluster
Deeply driven
Etched like a wound
A rose or a moan
Or a crimson scar
A luminosity
Or a distant spark.

Lady of my heart
Moon colored
Raven haired
Inaccessible
Like a distant star.

_________________

BALLAD

Go saddle me the black black steed
For I am going on a long long journey
Go wipe away the tears that roll
Across brawny cheeks of gypsie lassie.

Fifteen well made men going on their steeds
To get their brides leap over the strand
The brunt hills in search of a namer
Drying fast to justify conscript of land.

Twilled with a broach and a ring wintry
The death stalks the hill with sickled moon
The leaden sheen on the steed’s back
Has turned the night’s face into a roon.

Late late yesterday I saw the moon
Full bodied like a new sickled maned
The death will stalk these streets tonight
And am afraid of downy owl’s nickled bane.

Come on fair ladies hang your hair down
Over the fair head over the abordour
The fifteen men have gone to castle waste
And along came the death to devour.

Go saddle me the black black steed
The merry castle keep has hovelled a cry
Though death stalks every haste and waste
And brawny cheeks of gypsie have gone dry.

__________________

THE DESTINY.

This is not a country for living souls
Recoiled the heart lives under the enshades
Of vampire ridden nature and all its pards
On beggarly sums amassed by the pauper
Of bleakness and cold hunger and mort
Here existing we burrowing like moles
In drenched country in termite eaten rocks.

Here are no events images or happenings
But over the same the generations waste
Cobwebbed on a bold spot their anger
In rimless cups in pale lipped liquors
Time eaten tales aimed at amusing
Lamenting on their irrecoverable loss
A loss which was never their gain
Forward they go groping in search of substitutes
In hotel rooms where empty pouches hang
Over the pegs of wealth work and pleasure
All have accepted with harried hands
Stiffening nature humbly no measure for measure
Their guts hanging loose from under their stomachs
While vultures of low airs peck their brains
Piece by piece removing the gilded frowzy matter
Leaving the skull festooned and vainly waste.

The ancient cults of sacrifices still existing
Among jeremiad rules of the gushed brain
Each fang beak or tentacle of spidery web
The venom just dents entwines with its embrace
No grief for marshalled loss no pent up for soul remained
The old conscience just sleeps in arms of lap dogs
And each hour becomes just sanctified and sane.

It is not for charter of the world do we create
Burning our brain and the light of our eyes
Each image in our mind creates
A corresponding image in the space
And each line of the verse entombs
In eternity a sightless gong
Which the poet can hear with his subtle mind
In the span of his wretched life and can find
Some solace when everything significant is betrayed
When the weed choked fields of this world can claim
Their foremost place on the altar of the poesy.