Archive for December 21, 2018


our fingers

 



… our fingers,

entwined,

walking away,


from the din of the day,

embracing the solitude of night,


with you in my arms,

dreams ablaze,

soaring into effervescent flight,


touching you, feeling you,

tasting you, consumed,

raging desire,


thrashed against the cliffs,

of pitiless fate,


in-between the engulfing waves,

gulping for a breathful of you,


all of you,

irresistibly true …




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just you, just me … 




i cannot walk this path alone, my footsteps dragging on desolate cobblestone,



so very distant from you, my dear, enmeshed in this straightjacket of fear.




so let me dream of us on some idyllic shore,


together at last,


alone no more,


our bare feet tickled by the ebbing tide,


at peace with each other,


side by side.




let us meet on that distant beach,


where joy beckons us within reach,


to a place where we truly live,


not just cope,


where crimson horizons infuse us with hope.




let us to that place of peace flee,


together at last,



just you,

just me …










desire, trepidation, and hunger …




sprinkling cinnamon caresses, scribbling odes,

etching my words on your bare back,

desire inflames, engulfs flesh and blood and bone,


dispelling all trepidation,

the sin of hungering,

in a sweltering furnace of longing,


scribbling odes,

fingers meandering across your body,


desire, trepidation, and hunger,


fleeting, momentary,


yet abiding, infused,

relentless,



welcome.








Cricket, The Beatles, and You …





I remember those scorching summer days, on the bus home from school,

as exhausted as I was, when I walked past you, I tried to look so cool.




You sat on the steps to your block of flats, engrossed in your book,

hardly noticing me at all, while my heart thud-thudded and my legs like jelly shook.




I remember every night as I lay in bed awaiting sleep,

you swirled in my mind, your silence a well which was so unfathomable, so very deep.




The sweaty days of summer didn’t deter us at all, flinging our school bags and racing to the park,

cricket bat in hand and thoughts of you reading you book, simmering within me, an undousable spark.




The friends were always waiting, setting up the cricket field, stumps in the ground,

while I took my position as fielder on the boundary, to keep stealing glances at you as the park erupted into cricket’s familiar sound,

the crack of leather on bat, the ball racing for a four,

always trying to loft a six, for the ball to come to a rest at the steps of your door.




My friend loved your cousin across the street, and I loved you dearly as teenagers do, so we hatched plans to speak, him to your cousin, and I to you.




After the cricket and when most friends drifted away, my best friend and I sat underneath our tree,

strategically chosen so that he may catch a glimpse of your cousin, and I of thee.




We sang Beatles’ songs until we were hoarse,

belting out ‘All my Loving’ repeatedly of course.


My friend and I sat under that tree for years, our love an unrequited ache,

as we whistled ‘Careless Whispers’ meant just for your sake.




We often day dreamed of futures of love and joy,

while the hearts in our chests thud-thudded on, the simple love of a besotted boy.




Well the years passed as they always do,

I still managed to never say a word to you,

my friend as well remained silent as a church mouse,

as time took its toll, and as we drifted away to other cities, moving so many a house.




We often reminisce about those carefree days, when life was so much more innocent, when cricket and you consumed my world,

while through the years the ravages of time have dimmed that spirit, as the reality of true life before us unfurled.




So it was a thrilling moment for my friend and I, as we arranged to meet,

all grown up now, but back in the old neighbourhood, the first to arrive would sit under our tree on our old street.




We met at last, our bellies a bit heavier now, our hair greying with age,

as we sat down beneath our tree, just the two of us, back on our centre stage.




We sang old Beatles’ songs and we whistled ‘Careless Whispers’, thinking about all that could have been,

of how life tamed our wild hearts, of how nothing resembled the nostalgic shades through which we had those olden days seen.




We talked and laughed as evening crawled by, our hearts heavy with emotions of days gone by,

even as we bid our farewells, and promised to keep in touch, we hugged as felt time fly.




Yet as I walked passed those steps where you used to decades ago sit, engrossed in your book,

I must admit, my heart thud-thudded, and my feet like jelly, once again, shook.





all images from google




Friday at Dusk.





Blanketed by charcoal clouds,

this evening brings respite,


banishing the heat,


with the promise of a cool fresh breeze,



offering consolation,

to me, and hopefully to the many weary,


soothing this day’s strains,


shedding the weight, of all that is dreary.




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