When I was:
Playing a dream
An owl in me peeping,
Night was deep and
My subconscious
Sleep.
Waxing moon,
In the sky illuminant
Growing each night.
And a flowing river beside,
Milk white, mirroring;
Pulling my eyes.
Pin drop silence,
Whistling river where:
Orchestrated molten light
Of heaven dances here
In the deep ravine.
Cold night out
Freezing, to adore
The unfiltered
First-hand experience
Of life.
On a cold lit night, warm to the dance of your inner orchestra. – mh clay
In the
Cold desert,
Along with
The howling wind.
On horseback,
Galloping.
A strange
Weather beaten
Unfamiliar face,
Turning back
A grin throwing,
Continues his
Hurried way.
May be,
A herdsmen:
A Dhokpa, singing,
Making alive the air.
Pulling my ears of
Attention.
And I, lost
In his melody,
Staring till his horse,
In the vast horizons;
Of: green pastures
Disappears.
Musing
Still echoes
The tongue of:
A nomad
Ringing.
Note: Those people in Tibet and in Nepal bordering to Tibet, having a nomadic life shifting their flock of sheep, goat or yaks in the high pastures, living under the tent, are called Dhokpas.
editors note: Grin caught, attention pulled, ride on… – mh clay
I am the past,
I am the present,
I am the future,
It is the time I am living
A fruit of: my KARMA.
I am the WATER
Blood in my veins
By the heat, scalding.
I am the AIR a moving spirit
I breath. I am the EARTH,
An elemental dust
A flesh to decay.
I am the SKY,
A lurking void
Of the universe, to unite.
So, it is not me,
What I am saying “I”.
I am a product
Of a FIRE, empty
Like a living smoke.
Smoke! Smoke!!
And Smoke!!!
Where there’s smoke… – mh clay
Whirling,
In a nightmare,
I awake.
Living
Subconscious,
In the unconscious
Hours of sleep.
A thought in me
Was eager
For: beauty.
Her face is:
A red apple,
With a juicy bite,
I realize.
A midnight snack for an apple a day. – mh clay
Romantic
Depth of night
Where your shy lips
Were shivering
But the smile
Was attractive.
When,
I fondle you,
Your coy smooch;
Attacks tenderly.
As you huddle me,
A pair of clementine,
Ask me to peel.
They were
So soft.
And
A sweet,
Recondite,
Juice of night
You serve;
to my thirsty
Soul.
Ah! Sweet, surreptitious squeeze. No juice fast for me. – mh clay
A hook in the eyes,
Fishing a dream.
Enthralled, pulling: a rope
To net your mute beauty
Unmatched, climbing high
To harvest on eyes.
In the vacant horizon I play,
Reading every silence.
Find you are my life, when I am alone.
There you stand in front,
What is that of you?
Unreserved, planted deep,
A memory; missing: I cry.
Recurring dream of a foreign beauty
Haunted deep flying high.
I walk alone,
In a lonely street.
Tickling my roots of:
Involuntary sleeping nerves,
rubbing on a flint you spark.
The fire of: your beauty,
That you ornament and
The shine on your face,
Paralyze my mind.
The bliss of a fish afloat in muse waters; delightful paralysis. – mh clay
Grinding,
In a vortex,
Flour of my mind,
Dough, and spin.
Loosing free the skeins
Of: a thought.
Experience ink.
Reminded
Memory of the day,
Like Hydra walk.
Looking for veins to suck
Needle my skin.
Stranded I walk bleeding,
As you ravish me
On the way.
Blood,
That coagulates
On my feet, slimy
and slippery, I end:
With spindle yarn
Of leeches: a rein
Controlling my
Evacuated brain.
No brains, no headache? No matter, everything is empty in the end. – mh clay
Who
Is gonna think?
Her vague presence
Buried in the
Womb of silence,
And I weep for
Her beauty.
Got drunk,
In my madness,
Spinning her dream;
In the haywire.
Loitering in the streets
In search of poetry,
Collecting sights
To stir, in alleys.
Sitting
On a temple porch,
Pondering night,
Did not meet any thought.
Melting by the temperatures
Of: emotion, kissing whose
Unkissed lips.
You create a current,
Oh! Volatile.
Dancing with
The caressing breeze
For the droplets of dew
Distilled tonight.
Surprise of a turn
With sericeous head
And seductive smile
Disappear within a wink
Flying to the world:
Of nymph.
And as a
Destitute dreamer,
Staring at her flight
I wait for an
Early plane
To catch.
Another flight of fancy. Boarding Dream Air, now! – mh clay
Spinning
Flocculant wool,
Weaving a gravid
Thought.
A blunt tip,
Blindly forged
Into a furnace
Of a brain
To sharp.
Spinning
A sharpener
To pencil a thread of
Wired inkblot
Brood.
Twisting
Yarns the knot,
Giving shape to
A textile she
Brought.
Reading
Undulating
Beats of a heart
In a line of yarns
How I got
Lost.
From yarn to yarn; words woven into a tale. – mh clay
Being
Indulged
Into silence
Madly,
Stock hold
Of energy scalding
Invisible here.
A thought,
Vague utterance
Of the vast;
A thunder.
Like
The flash of
Lightening
A current of
Brain wave
Trigger.
Erupted
Ember liquid
Golden rim of
Volcano wearing
Crater on my paper
waites the rain.
To become
A lake, where;
I can swim
So deep.
Pen pulls poet into paper crater; fire and water ensue. – mh clay
