The Wedding Day Blues

Day when innumerable flashes of light

Feign stillness of time

Amidst decorated alters and flowery arches

Where man and woman converge to one dream

That sacred day

When love launches to the cosmos of unlimited time

What is sketched in one paltry moment

But ushers in an eternity

A kiss to the inifinitude of time……….


Yet in that time-etched moment

There rests a many-hued state called melancholy

The final hours of solitude

Sayonara to the many possibilities of a vacant bed

Reveries that launch like birds from a nest

Freedom that saturates open spaces

Solidarity of one, the innate self, what has rested within you

Through doorways and highways

Carnivore dreams that laid concealed

In the deepest crevices of the human heart

The passion that was veiled deep within

All lost in a fragment of time


For independence is a dependency to self

Solitude is a endearing pastime

Virginity is a preservative of longing

All states held ever so close

To the single man’s presence of mind

And when all that is lost to one breathtaking creature

A woman of the seven seas and muse to one’s dreams

Who will bear your heart, arouse your temple

Macerate your body and tame the beast within

A woman with maple brown irises on a cucumber backdrop

As on one blessed day in your lifetime, you lose so much

To gain forever the galaxy of love


Wedding day, what will rest ever so strange

When the body is set free to soar

Within her ivory universe

And the heart is held ever so close

by her nuclear magnet

Yet within this paradox of freedom and captivity

You are bound to find scraps of loneliness

Littering the mind

Missing that person – the reflection you knew so well and treasured

The customary man on the mirror

Who was replaced forever

With a perennial image of a woman

On the evangelized retina

Love Letters To The Green Mile

She was his spring

He was her lifeblood

As they lingered in symbiosis

Of macerated hearts

And healing tides of love

Until that fated day

He metamorphosed in the eyes of law

To a brutal slayer of life

As the monster appeared from his cocoon

Molting his layered disguise

To bludgeon an innocent life


And now years after

She still awaits for him

Writing epistle after epistle to the green mile

The preservative of missing another

Lighting lanterns of hope within her

The endless summer even ushering in traces of autumn

As she stares at the last mile of youth

Waiting for her leviathan

To walk in through her open doorway


The beauty of love is always

Nothing short of a miracle

And just sometimes

A miracle can be found

In a rare kind of love

An Andromeda Fantasy (Adult Poem)

She stood there in salmon pink lace

In the arms of morning grace

Littering my dreams with sodden lust

Sordid whispers from her lips streaming in gust

She promised me a lass on the rocks

With hands clasped in ropey locks

Princess Andromeda wailing to be saved

Abyssal waters of fantasy to be braved

Temptress of the indomitable sevens seas

Tempests lingering on her erogenous keys

As a lass’s fantasy bloomed on bed

She wailed in ecstasy as passion was bled

Love wiped out her body like the forthcoming tide

Until she stood with a smile bona fide

As a dream streamed to her fated estuary

Myth outlived fantasy, in memory’s sanctuary







A Stilt Fisherman In Sri Lanka

Perched high above the water, on a lonely stilt

Is a toiling crusader

A poor man of humble beginnings

Laboring on in his time-tested trade

A lowly stilt fisherman

Glazed with suntan, donning a straw hat

A man searching for the bounty of the ocean

One creature at a time


A southerner……….

Infused with die-hard hope

And imbued with unperturbed patience

Gazing at an extended rod

Weapon of choice and his own preservative of life

Searching for the clemency of fate

And the miraculous odds of chance

To pull yet another catch

a wriggling creature gasping for life


Tireless occupant of protracted days

From daybreak to dayfall

With a panoramic view of the ocean horizon

Of dazzling sunrises

And the equally-enchanting sunsets

Yet holding his dream afloat

In the merciless heat

A man in his endless labor for a few rupees

Each an endowment from the gods

To pacify the needs of his humble home

A man staring at the voracious waves

And the unforgiving sun

While holding the weight of his dream

In his straw-covered temple


A stilt fisherman

A man practicing an invisible craft

Unsketched on papyrus scrolls

And unnarrated in folklore

A man forgotten by the throne-warmers and garland-seekers

Yet holding on in his own front yard

Seated on a wooden seat

A pelagic practitioner who will never see a throne

But sits high above the ocean dominion

To ensnare destiny

Up on the point and barb

Of a lonely hook