Page 58 - SHAPES OF LOVE
P. 58

THE SWINDLING MONK                                                   FEEL ME



                                                                                                                  The sway of the nymphs                                               Want to feel the spring of my love
                                                                                                                  Lost their rhythm
                                                                                                                                                                                       Go and ask the intoxicated bees
                                                                                                                  The stars forgot to shine
                                                                                                                                                                                       Want to feel the warmth of my love
                                                                                                                  You divulge the truth in silence
                                                                                                                                                                                       Ask the lava that erupted from the volcano
                                                                                                                  Your heart is no more mine
                                                                                                                                                                                       Want to feel the depth of my love

                                                                                                                  The warmth between smothered                                         Ask the oyster which got thrown by the waves
                                                                                                                  But the flakes still exist as pain                                   Want to feel the fragrance of my love
                                                                                                                  A weathered past like an old malady                                  Ask the roses bathing in the dew drops
                                                                                                                  Buried deep down the memory lane                                     Want to feel the softness of my love

                                                                                                                                                                                       Ask the breeze which entangles with my hair
                                                                                                                  The promises were to toy the heart
                                                                                                                                                                                       Want to hear the song of my love
                                                                                                                  As fragile as a butterfly’s wing
                                                                                                                                                                                       Ask the bard who wanders in the wilderness
                                                                                                                  Intoxicating the senses to love
                                                                                                                  Alluring the soul to dream                                           Want to read the poem of my love
                                                                                                                                                                                       Step into my eyes and drink in every word...
                                                                                                                  But, all was a lie a mere act
                                                                                                                  Adrift in the dust of past                                           ©Aruna Lakra
                                                                                                                  The blossoms were left to wizen
                                                                                                                  Crowned to slaughter the trust

                                                                                                                  Pounding with the deceiving beats
                                                                                                                  The core was lurid with murk
                                                                                                                  An assassin in disguise of a monk
                                                                                                                  Extirpating my love in lurk


                                                                                                                  @Debjani Mukharjee








                  50  K.C. Sethi & Sunita Sethi                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      SHAPES OF LOVE  51
   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62   63