There are people for whom
A does not precede B.
May be I am one.
At times beneath the banyan tree
you have touched my hand
in one moment that we can not recreate.
I was to take yours and press a bit,
shelter your cold palm in mine.
I have only smiled.
At times inside a lonely tram,
along the roots of our heritage city
and with an ageing conductor,
you have wished I will cuddle
and plant a kiss, perhaps.
Spring has come, but I have sat
like a tree where winter still hails.
Stoic, willing, wishing and still desperately, wishing.
At times while argumenting
You have tried to fight, jostle.
Anger is the flame of love's impurity.
You have tried to burn us together.
I have kept silent
Having hundred questions to ask you
but never could, even one.
I have let you win, always.
I have let you lose, thus.
In high fever, one night,
Trembling you have murmured,
" Come unto me".
'Passionate' the lover I am, have stood still.
Gently touching your forehead I have let you sleep.
In all these times,
where we could have created
loving sequence of a thousand touchable dreams,
I have existed, only.
Now that you are not there
for reasons humane, I wish to shout and say,
my restraints were only apparent.
Deep down, you could never know,
there was a heartbeat that ran and ran
and is still running, today, at this moment
for that one touch...
... A touch that will make me feel like a child,
and let me sleep, just.
We will make love when I wake up.
SoUmY@
A does not precede B.
May be I am one.
At times beneath the banyan tree
you have touched my hand
in one moment that we can not recreate.
I was to take yours and press a bit,
shelter your cold palm in mine.
I have only smiled.
At times inside a lonely tram,
along the roots of our heritage city
and with an ageing conductor,
you have wished I will cuddle
and plant a kiss, perhaps.
Spring has come, but I have sat
like a tree where winter still hails.
Stoic, willing, wishing and still desperately, wishing.
At times while argumenting
You have tried to fight, jostle.
Anger is the flame of love's impurity.
You have tried to burn us together.
I have kept silent
Having hundred questions to ask you
but never could, even one.
I have let you win, always.
I have let you lose, thus.
In high fever, one night,
Trembling you have murmured,
" Come unto me".
'Passionate' the lover I am, have stood still.
Gently touching your forehead I have let you sleep.
In all these times,
where we could have created
loving sequence of a thousand touchable dreams,
I have existed, only.
Now that you are not there
for reasons humane, I wish to shout and say,
my restraints were only apparent.
Deep down, you could never know,
there was a heartbeat that ran and ran
and is still running, today, at this moment
for that one touch...
... A touch that will make me feel like a child,
and let me sleep, just.
We will make love when I wake up.
SoUmY@
Comments
but with you I find it difficult to
agree
that anger is the flame of love's impurity
it is the oxygen that love thrives on the contrary
Excellent work, there are so many places that took my breath away.
Second Govind, Took my breath away. No exaggeration.
:-)
How often does love restrain from coming undone...and how quick it is to burn in a flame that knows no end??
I love your concluding line.
"We will make love when we wake up."
Awestruck.
and let me sleep, just."
I don't know what to say in reply of this beautiful wordplay of yours.
I hope my ignorance will be forgiven.
Each little cameo of romance, of almost-romance really, pulls one in with the knowledge that this is how it is, really. Not as in films, where persons melt easily, but this heart breaking hesitation that changes so many things.
And the metaphor hidden in the title, with the bits of memories tapped off a burning, smouldering mind, constantly fed by the flame of love unspoken and unuttered, is just amazing!
You did not snuff out a life there, but you lit up a poem! Lovely, absolutely lovely, Soumya...
I have let you win, always.
I have let you lose, thus.
Touched by those lines!
Rini, thank you. For being there, silently yet speaking so much through. You always have been deep. Treasure that.
Pallavini, your gists are always compact enough to say what I wish to. Thank you. Always special, your presence.
Gopal, words do not need to be served when honest intentions are already there. Thank you for coming, just. Your ignorance is profound my friend.
Usha ma'am, I have told you before, I will tell you again. You understand poetry like as if you have written them, esp mine. Right from taking out my fav couplets to describing the exact nuances and a wonderful explanation to the title - everything, one is blessed that you are around.