“THE PRICELESS GIFT”

what should I gift thee,
a token of love wrapped
in silk
a kiss shall vanish
in the zephyr,
a rose will lose its colour
lacy pack of chocolates
soon get savoured in hours,
an attire would wrap
thou,
but soon will the thread get unleashed

…then
what should I gift thee…
which valuable jewel?
a diamond, gold, ruby or emerald
they lose charm
in glittering aura of thou…
The stones will fall apart…
then…
what should I gift thee
A book, which
can be treasured for years…
..oh no, it shall be stacked in the shelf
dust will be its companion…
A perfume shall fizz out in days
every gift is mortal…
Unlike the soul of mine and thee
which remains immortal…

O ! then let me pluck few moments
from the cosmic air
of universe,
bedeck them with flowers of love
scent with my songs of splendor…
tune in music with my chords
I would gift thee
this
ceaseless, priceless , immortal
treasure.

The Twinkle

skips the pulse , one breath I lose

a moment of your thought

when my eyelids gaze the blue

searching for the brightest star

its twinkle reminds me of you…

amidst the constellation

a unique stellar assemble

come closer ! I whisper,

as I capture Thee

in the quiet lake of my iris

to bathe in amor

the lotus petals seal until

the aurora pierces

the dark firmament and falls on the bud

about to blossom.

Beads of love !

photocredit:www.pearlhours.com

the falling dew

beaded

in the string of my love

as tiny translucent pearls

echo and sing thy name

and disseminate my scent

Weaving a wondrous

prized necklace adorning thy neck

kissing, the round soft nape

a jewel of pride

and passion gets created

around the sensuous arms

embraced by which the dew drops fell

o’er the bare shoulder

of hers

in silence.

Oxford Handset nay, am God’s clay !

photocredit:www.theguardian.com

Oh! am  god’s clay

soft , tender, smooth

yet can be brittle and tough at times

nay, I ain’t hail

from the breed

of proud ,haughty misnomers

who sparsely realize a drop

of tear worth…

neither they hath seen the

gory of dead or

the dreaded hunger

yet epitomize

words ..larger than life

social and palpable

..they have mugged the

Oxford handset

decks which every word as treasure

alas! never could their heart get drench

in the tragic rain of worries under the

shrouded

rain coat of superficial fashion..

The delicate quill

photocredit: google images

the delicate quill scribbles
lore of sordid life
amidst the society of racial protagonists and authoritarians
few drops emerge on the paper
red scarlet, yeah ! they are grievous tears
fallen by tormented excruciation.
the words sharp, pierce the autocratic system
which hath remained despotic since ages and years
..will the ink paint the page
and eyes of hypocrites in true colour
wiping away squalid tales
and etching a prognostic message
for mankind and humans…