Under Streetlights

Blinking lights

Shrinking stars

Pavement looks behind

Miles left back,

Miles in front

A stranger comes to mind.

He, toothless, grins at

Shameless fate

An unheard malaise peeps.

In tattered clothes

With peace at feet

A naked beggar sleeps.

Room on Fire

I strike a matchstick
Your face lights up
The sun sets in your eyes.
You smell of me
And I of you
Dusk bids us both goodbye.

In sweet embrace
As ties untie
You kill once more in greed
I beg for you
And you for me
In silence passion bleed.

I burn my hand.
The room falls dark
You feel for me in haste.
A stolen kiss
A soft reproach.
I bask in my conquest.

You despise dark
And so do I.
We let a suspense loom
As love meets lust
With fumbling hands
A matchstick burns my room.

She Was Just a Girl

She walked to the edge.

The cliff lay parched under her feet.

The sand beneath her feet burning,

As if to exact some distant primitive revenge.

Fierce, vicious, violent.

The thorns bathed in venom bore into her flesh.

Pebbles burnt black,

Giving off soot like a sinewy skeleton .

The lust in the thirsty wind streaked her troubled tresses.

Carrying embers of doom in their unrelenting ire.

Under the hot afternoon sun,

Her heart hardened and died.

“You are a girl.” They said.

And she was just a girl.

The squalid waters flowed under her,

Cutting through the base.

The tentacles of glass barriers,

Spreading placidity all around itself.

Her eyes looked tired of saline tears

Drying in a screaming silence.

A tell-tale lull prevailed.

The minutes wet with easing pain,

Waited for time to clot into a meaningless void.

And through the pores of cerulean skies,

She heard whispered curses.

“You are a burden.” They said.

And she was just a burden.

She looked down into the depths,

Where there was no dearth of dark.

Where still hissing magma of hatred dwelled

In endless reservoirs of unclad vice.

No one breathed.

Nothing moved.

Only a seductive gorge of envy gaped back at her.

From here it was a steep climb up to find the sun....

And some wafts of moist clouds, she thought.

Like rain in starved June,

Like kisses wrapped in soft delight

Like unuttered promises of love.......she hoped.

But, that was not her.

In some other time.

Some other place.

As if waiting for the inevitable

While tongues, lecherous with pallid drool reached out to her bosom.

A pair of red unforgiving eyes swooped down on her.

She gave in.

A deep, lonely plunge.

Silence.

Then,

She heard them shout,

“You are a whore!"

And she was just a whore.

The idea of this poem was presented to me by one of my friends. I developed on it, after which she decided that I had lent too many shades of my own to her original outline and hence it now belonged to me. Therefore, I post this with slight acknowledgment and sparse regret ( as the original idea remains pilfered ).

She Has A Lover ......

She has a lover

Dark and strong.

In him when she confides

Gives me shivers,

Jealous bouts

I find so hard to hide.

In silent whispers

Feathers fall

While time stops by to see

If ever words that

Hummed in heart

Will come to rescue me.

Is it late ?

A play perhaps,

The end to know I lust

A loving game

Of losing self

Of nursing nascent trust.

I feel for him.

I hope she does.

Before it is too late.

Her lover fair

Beyond repair

Comes to share my fate.