Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Captive Lady

A decade of separation with the outer sphere-
The fair woman is a devoted house wife,
Content with two broods, a loving husband
And a family of happiness devoid of tears.

What else would she fancy when her man
Resides in home in tempting dark hours,
Lounging in the same bed with same mate
Sacrificing all extramarital dealings undone-

The man obliges the lady by restraining from
Getting pleasures in long matured wines-
So she's proud of her virtuous other half,
Even after ten years sticking to equal decorum.

Jim & Jennie are two gems of invaluable type-
This' what their mother, the lady boasts of;
After spending thousands of sleepless nights
In changing nappy without a whispering hype.

Buttering breakfast breads to saucing spaghettis,
Cleansing garments to ironing the outfits,
Peeping through the vent to check any dirt-
She's fascinated to all these household liabilities.

She cares for the man, the kids and the home,
Is she a warehouse of love or a banyan tree?
Or a lean liana with an only twig to cling-
Her description is hazy like well wriggled foam.

What's her meaning to her man is foggy too-
Is she Jim's mummy or Dave's mistress?
Certainly not a lady-love as other than talks
Of family needs, no warm gesture do they show.

The days crawl by, lady sticks to homemaking flu-
Every dawn & dusk fails to rouse the woman in her,
Living the wobbly life of perfuming incense stick,
Perhaps she's detached from her inner sphere too!


- littleWriter

Friday, July 25, 2008

Oops that was My First Time

It's hard to be oblivious of that day-
Oh I can still feel my thumping heart,
Can smell the cosy divan and the pillow;
I was losing patience and going nuts.

Lips dried up and my face reddened,
Clocks slowed down for a while
As I kept waiting for him nervously-
Biting my shaky lips against my style.

It was entirely a brand new experience
I was waiting for that I must confess-
Like a kid's first day at kindergarten;
Like a teen's first smoking exuberance.

Hush… he entered into my bedroom,
Light was quite dim to suit my mood,
Tossing me a smile unbuttoned his coat-
My only solace: the man looked good.

My temperate skin was getting hotter as
He came close to me to finish up his job,
With a parched throat and wet eyes
I tried my best, still failed to sob.

"Will it hurt?"- I stammered at last;
The expert guy playfully winked at me,
And I felt like a timid deer under
Lion's claw, no escape route to flee.

He clasped my part he was looking for and
Massaged a lotion which seemed an ice pack;
Shutting my eyes, holding back my breathe,
Was waiting for a baffling climax to whack-

As he pushed his thing into my warm body
I bawled clutching his hand in an odd agony;
Oops I sighed at last with sweat sunk body-
I tell you, getting injected wasn't that funny
.



-littleWriter

Monday, February 4, 2008

Deliverance

Salty love over passionate beach-
Sexy sunrise with colours so rich...

I walk over the sandy sheet
With two eyes those never sleep,
Thirsty for a washed out trail
Of your footsteps on fickle sand,
Drifted from heaven to hell;
I hate those impassive waves
Who expunged your only mark,
Despite repenting, brashly rave!

The scorching vertical sun
Baking and blistering my bald head-
Streams of gluey sweat
Winding down my folded forehead-
The roasted dust below
Infiltrating the cracks of my feet-
Hot vacuum around me,
No oxygen left anymore to breathe…

Speeding through tunnel of shadows,
I’ve developed nocturnal vision
To defend unjustified authenticity
Of my directionless navigation-
Even single breather is prohibited,
Invigorating my recklessness
By mesmerizing fumes finely knitted
And claustrophobia embraces-

The crude night falls once again-
A gigantic canvas drops onto the sea,
Thousand fireflies soaring by the waves
Witnessing the brine dissolving thee.
Oh Suzan you’re fading away honey!
My world’s shrinking to an oyster shell
Dark sea tinged by your watercolour-
Alive me trying to find a romantic hell…

My heart, you’re set free from crave in vain!
Open up your washed wings of eternity;
Forward strokes will bring renaissance-
Dark magical horizon lying behind you,
With few songs sung and rest unsung
Muse far away from my poetic view…
The sand dune distorted by gust of wind
Forlorn oasis lives with cacti very few…



-littleWriter

Monday, January 28, 2008

A Winter Dream

A salty droplet trickles down his brow-
This urchin lives in some tropical land
Where effect of winter is ever low;
His weird frame lacks a tongue-
Hauling a soiled sack on his back,
Brown jaws volunteering an irksome song;
This tune wings in air travelling to some far away land
To land of fairies, land of emperors-
Will princess come to catch his dark dirty hand?
A familiar noise blew away my comatose self
Instilling consciousness by its recurring call
I never showed gratitude for its punctual help!
Reluctantly I rise up in the late morning-

Having consumed another chilly night of my life
I creep out of my warm quilt with a heart full of disgust;
I’ve to start acting like a photocopier,
Have to loop the same circuit again and again-
No notion of which turn is going to be the last.
In my land snowflakes don’t fall like shower
Even in mid January, ice-cold time of the year;
A monsoon land it is, we are inborn afraid of cold;
We take beer out of fear from early December-
A deep incarnation of western hold!
Oh this is my problem with this season
My eyes have got stuck with one another-
A real hazard for a late riser
I need the eye drop now for quick medication;
Problem is intensified; me a blind for the moment,
I can’t recall where I kept that last morning-
Is it in the bedside drawer or the study shelf?
I need it badly, but to whom should I ask for help?
Meanwhile I keep rubbing my eyes
With the restless right hand, wet even in winter-
My focus changes all of a sudden by someone’s
Unruly pressing of my doorbell like a stringless guitar-

I step out of my door with an authoritative walk
I wonder by gazing at the falling yellow leaves,
Bored monotony of cuckoo quavers my feet and
The ominous autumn in mid winter steals my talk-
Defoliating leaves spoils my furry gown,
Dusty breeze furrows my soft shaved cheeks,
I sweat under sun emitting fowl body odour
And my fair skin gets tanned brown-
I panic in sudden transmutation-
A heavy load bows me down to the soil,
My space seems to have changed-
A mirror showed me my vulgar orientation.
I keep crawling down 17, dream street
With a hungry heart to reach the Reality unleashed…


-littleWriter

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Bastard Speaks

You people call me a tainted soul
Just for being a drunken bloke,
Flying with soaring cocaine dose
And mingling with low-cost whores-
What else I do, would you tell me please…
I never peeped at your house,
Never thought to torture your brood
Nor spent a night with your spouse-
Hey, you’re talking of Jen!
Do you know her man?
She deserved that one night stand,
Jen was of that midnight brand-
And you call me the father
Of what she had hatched!
My throat was alcoholic then, so
Didn’t give her the mother’s badge-
She was a headless bitch to bear
The silly pregnancy headache
As I did never make a vow
To be a committed cock of her chick-
Another bastard born from blue
And I curse Jen for the mishap;
And now you’re pleading for Julie?
Of all I met, she was the most silly-
She left her job at the roadside pub
And dived in the lunacy of settling
With a hooked sex-freak like me;
The later tragedy is known to thee-

Living the life of a stray dog,
Hiding my face in dark section
Of society untouched by civilian-
For this enigmatic position, I curse
My mother for she denied an abortion.
I get desperate to spit at her dead soul
And piss at her shabby coffined womb-
That disloyal bitch sucked all pleasure
Along with that bastard in their youth
Turning all happiness stored in my fate
Into this obnoxious thorny explicit truth.
Since I got my consciousness, my ears
Have been tampered a million times
With the sarcastically presented scandal
Revealing how this fucker came into life-
Yea birth’s my blunder, it’s my first crime.
Since then crime has been my passion;
My legendary versatility is continuing-
Dagger and drugs are my professional aid,
Only faithful dealer of my daily bread;
Rape and molestation are my compulsion
Like cutting of woods to a carpenter,
But a long way to go, who’ll accompany-
Oh this Jamaican whiskey has the flavour,
It’s a transsexual illusion, I’m alcoholic forever.


-littleWriter