The Love?

It perspired through the brow.

I love her like an open orifice,
Seeping my secrets in low.
But is it too slow –
For the water to rise off the ice?

May be,
As, I have an open heart
That she can read;
And like a naïve art
I do bleed,

In and out
Every day.

It perspires through my brow.

© rakesh k pandey
(13.4.2013)

Love Song for a Poet

My obscure heart often sings,
To the tunes of his poetry-
Metaphors with wings
“Worth a try”.

I have fallen every now and then,
For his meters and dictions-
Aesthetic, like drops of first rain
Graceful and Appeasing.

Sometimes
Courteous but callous callouts
Halts my heart-beats, only to learn
It was wishful.
And I fall again.

Up and down, he will swing his soul
The way I’d not have expected.
And I fall again.

Warmth of his body
Rouses my soul-
Like the vowels “sewn-in-love” together
By an aging Prufrock.

Tempts my mood, steals a glance
Of the curve and riff
And the naked soul.
I don’t shy for
I have fallen for him.

And he completes me as a woman
With his chaotic melodies,
I submit and find
I have fallen for him forever.

©rakesh pandey

Layers Of Life

My finger's touch could
Melt her. She would breathe, as if
The air was to vanish;
Twirling her hair
-in nervousness.
And,
Gasping for an uncalled love-
Divine and pure.


But, when I touched,
I could see the familiar prints
But not her.

to be continued...

© rakesh pandey (2013)

My Valentine

I had but with a charred heart
And a broken neuron;
Collected the shells, you had left long ago.
I hadn’t cared either;

As you had gone, leaving
Behind a cyclorama to live with.
Your Springs had died and
I had buried, miles deeper;

Thought, time will ebb soon.

But, winter had arrived yet again
Like that Gypsy,
Who had bargained to me-
My Love.

I have been weeping,
And weeping and weeping…

But, Apricots are now dried;
And
I will have to, but with a nervous hand
And a fearful soul;
Peel off the layer, before she arrives
This Valentine.

(14.02.2013)
© rakesh pandey

The Red Coupe

There I was-
Draped in a single breast,
Smoking a cigar,
In the coupe driven by chauffeur.
Held that daily rag of old world,
Folded into half, without a mark.
The engine roared like never before
At 80 miles per hour.

Occasionally I peeped
Through tinted glasses,
Only to find the texture of my coupe in their dreamy eyes.
Felt proud, like an affluent king-
Who has not one, not two, rather infinite wings.

There I was-
At the top of this poor world.
Listening to the symphonies of Mozart.
Swiftly I was heading
Towards the palace of their dreams.
Costlier than the cost of their costliest dreams,
Larger than the world they have seen.

Sipping the best breed of malt,
I thought of them:
Why are they like this?
Marooned in the open, without a roof,
Clogged with soils and sands.
How could they be so poor?

There stood my milestone-
Beaming brilliantly like a gold,
Like that loyal pug waiting for its Lord.


Here I am-
In dark, all of a sudden!
Restless I feel, who
Wants to break free
From what?

Don't know why?
Don't know how?
Feeling as if,
Someone howls over my head.
Deja Vu! Is it?

Neither do I find any palace
Nor my coupe in red.
All I find is me, lying relentlessly on the bed.

Here I am-
Half naked in that old torn rag.
Thinking silently on who I am?

Is it how I think?
Or this is how they see.
In a quest to learn
I take my steps out of nothing
To search a coupe in red.

© rakesh pandey, 2013

Eyes

Her Eyes-
Inebriated.
Eye had to fall;
I ain't to be blamed.

My Eyes-
Delusioned.
I had to fall;
Eye not to be blamed.

The Bleeding Heart

I had a troubled time
Shedding my breasts-
Into my closet,
With a pair of red boot
And fishnet.
But, to suffer on my own
Is comforting than to
Be lacerated in the stares of
Psycho-libidos.

My heart bleeds.