Thursday 8 September 2016

YEARNING


Photo captured by the blogger. Anyone is free to use it.
(some realizations in Kochi, India)

A fragment of my will
I picked up in me
from the white sands
of an uncared sea. 
The fishing nets were alive
unlike the urban me
disturbed by little peace, 
noiseless and empty. 

Undefined to me,
my mind yells no word
absorbed as if it is
in the discipline of seas. 
The tree shelters ages
of poetry on demons and men, 
inspired poetry in the last
of the foreign boatmen
who carved love songs
on the salty woods
of their aged oars. 

She moved hastily
like love in my veins, 
veins in trouble
like her hairs
troubled by the winds... 
Mischievous. Teasing. 
I wished not to talk. 
A first time isn't good. 
Admirable she was
at the verandah
across the lawn
I watched in fear
of watching her much.
What if she mistook
my likeness for desire.
But she knew not
how my poetry loves her
more than me, 
a competent contender. 
And she'll never know
I was watching her
across the lawn
for treasure of a lifetime. 

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