The Deathwish

On that certain summer night
I was simmering with joy.
I was the cowherd of all, or
Maybe just a berserk boy.

I was scampering anywhere,
Any place with a welcome door.
I smelled and saw unparalleled,
I heard sounds like never before.

The hills of Nimai and Nitai,
The valley of Doon in between,
The sloping meadows of Chawat,
I navigated unseen.

Beyond the Girdle were the woods –
The woods of dreams and dread.
I entered it unheeding to
The unending duel in my head.

Therein I embraced the trees and
Lost my dread to crystal joy.
Then I chanced upon the shrine
That captured the berserk boy.

The air was very turbid, with
A cloud of misty fragrance.
A gentle murmur played still
To an all-consuming cadence.

There and then itself I prayed
To God so I, He may fell
And at that place I may find
My grave of sight, sound and smell.

The Cruel Violinist

A certain strain of Beethoven
Wafted through the room
And met my resting ears in the
Resting cerebral womb.

Touched which chord the violinist
In music's quaint disguise,
That holding back nothing at all,
Tears outbrimmed my eyes?

Play that strain back and forth
Like a tuneful lord,
So that the produce of my eyes
Drowns your seering chord.

Kissing The Flower

The flower was beautiful -
How much I cannot say.
Only he who sees can know
How it lit up my day.

I stopped a while to admire
That which hexed my senses,
But had to leave it behind
To light up other romances.

But there is no parting that
Happens without a kiss.
So I looked around to eject
Any audience of my bliss.

Finding myself only among
God's unblemished creatures,
I bent down, smelled, caressed and
Kissed its softest features.

"How strange to stop for a flower!
Still worse for it to kiss?"
But he who hasn't seen my flower
Will never fathom this.