Wednesday, 28 March 2012


She sometimes becomes ill,
She sometimes becomes filled with glee,
She sometimes leaves the social web site.

She returns with some messages,
She returns with some smiles,
She returns with some photos.

She tells us to share our works with her,
She tells her message is to be friendly with her,
She tells some pristine declarations.

She says, “I am not prophet, I am woman.”
She says more, the desert is not her like,
She says she is restless, and moving.

She feels pressure to blow like storm
She feels the sun in her limbs, the very thrust,
She feels the energy, the very space

She has to obey the rules of sea roar,
She has to obey the pattern of love,
She has to obey the storm’s new chants.

Glowing like symbol of love, the molecule,
That I love most to hold her like holding a tender mass,
That melts in my body, a curiosity of love.

One day I say, “I love you, a new way of life,
Thence she bursts into laughter and says,
“Think about wandering in dreams, prepare for sacrifice, like fire.”

1 comment:

  1. Love the rhythm in this poem,'s a good subject developed with wit and freshness