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“Busy street of emotions On a languid Sunday afternoon on the busy street, Everything everywhere appeared to be missing a beat, Few of their desires, of their hopes, many of their own dreams, And in midst of all this I could hear strange screams, There was rush, there was movement, there was life in its busiest state, Many loved to be a part of it whereas a few showed all signs of hate, They were the ones who were not chasing life, they were after something different, That the busy street did not offer, and to the most people caught in its glamour it nothing meant, To me all appeared to be seeking the same illusive something, A thing that is born of nothing, and to a few it means everything, That something, about which I had no clue, but the busy street certainly knew about it, It knew everything about it, But it had concealed it from all, happy and sad alike, For now it had kept everyone busy pursuing what he/she liked, and what next he/she would like, It was then she appeared in the busiest corner of the street, Where people crossed each other; but noone nobody did ever meet, They all saw other people's eyes but not what their eyes could see, All were in this maze of fascinations where they had been before, but there they again and again wished to be, And then she got up and left this busy corner, And whispered in my ear, “let me show you a life that is real and livelier!” I followed her wherever she went, And that is how my Sunday was spent, Finally as the evening set in and people began to feel weary, And life too seemed dreary, I looked at the once busy street that was now empty and desolate, “This is the fact of life, and this is what you shall be able to isolate!” With these last words she disappeared, And now on the street, only I and my infinite avatars appeared, Everywhere, in everything, and the street got busy again, Because now I was dealing with life in its reality: joy, sorrow, love, faith, defection, everything and even pain, So whenever you visit this busy street, walk towards everything with every feeling, Because in our lives we all are either with retreating joy or with an advancing pain dealing!”

“Not fake Inside every feeling lies her quiet presence, A feeling that influences me more like a sense, A sense that surges above all other senses, Creating inside me a universe of new emotional resonances, Which fill me with her thoughts and new feelings, And life begins to stir and somewhere in the mind a thought rings, That possesses my every sense and now I see her in all things, And what a pleasure it is to notice her presence in these sightings, Offering a changed view of reality, A new prayer in the same old temple with the primitive deity, That resides in my heart’s nativity, And experiences moments of rejoicement in my mind that is the master of just one faculty, That of always persuading the heart to just beat for her sake, Even if that means putting the very purpose of my life at stake, But now, together; the heart and mind a beautiful world make, Where she is always real and not a part of a feeling fake!”

“Outlandish feelings Outlandish worlds exist within us all, Because there are stars that rise and then they fall, Stars that belonged to a different world and now here in an alien world they are, Alienated from their native skies to be cast into worlds astoundingly too far, And in this outlandishness of rising feelings and many a belief, The mind with the heart seeks familiar trails of relief, But both lie mired in their unwillingness to accept forced retirement, Because loving her thoughts, believing in her brings wavers of excitement, That condition the mind to seek the heart that felt and knew her so well, In this outlandish emotional landscape where fate launches its ominous spell, To never let the mind find the heart that easily fell for her charms, Trapping the mind in new emotional storms, Where life is turned into this falling star, That gets thrown into a world of alien sentiments and a new emotional spar, Between the mind that seeks those known feelings and the heart that knew her so well, And deals with the hostile world of emotions where nothing feels like her and nothing bears her smell, And it is in these outlandish territories of life that few of us seek a domicile existence, Even if that means indulging in pretense and experience a few artificial moments of romance, Whatever the case maybe, the romantic mind always seeks the romantic heart, In these unknown landscapes where the fakeness of the alien feelings every sense does so easily outsmart, Until the mind learns to calm itself with the hope that fallen stars rise and shine again, And it forms a covenant of survival with the diabolic and ruthlessly crude spells of pain. And then life continues to wander in all directions seeking the heart that knew her, Until one day it resembles the life that hangs on the devil’s spur! But the aging mind is still rigid and unwilling to believe in the deceptive landscapes of this outlandish territory, Because it remembers all the heart beats of love and still believes in their fraternity, Finally one day the mind rises once again above the feelings of alienation, Because few minds believe in endlessly seeking her sequestered feelings of love with a God like determination!”

“Heart’s revolt I remember her song, I remember her soft breathing rhymes, She lies within me just like the water to the ocean does belong, She is the wonder of my past that her memories carry into my present times, I think of her in all my heart’s appropriateness, I feel her still everywhere and in everything, In my mind’s every thought and in its wakefulness, And in my dreams she still appears as the most beautiful thing, I am facing an eviction of different kind, I am voluntarily surrendering all feelings that do not bear her hints, Although my mind is least pliant and it doesn't want to unwind, Although my heart throbs for me, deep in its chambers it only her feelings mints, I helplessly watch my own mind and heart in this act of revolt, I face them both in the clamor of day and the silence of nights, And I feel their enormous bolt, And now, I am used to them both, and now; we three have become the sources of our own secret delights, I may be a traveler on the highway of life, I may be seeking what we all seek from it, But when you realise a pliable mind and a pliant heart do not represent the fullness of life, You fall in love with her, and the feeling grows deeper, until the feeling becomes a part of you and you become a part of it!”

“Love’s space In the distance, not too far but far enough, I had once seen her walking with someone, And that single, casual visual encounter was enough, To think of her always and that mysterious someone, They walked for a while and then sat under a tree, There they spoke of past while they were still discovering the present, And I wondered of my own future under the tree, Long after they had left, when I was dealing with my own present, I had somehow anchored my likings on her, My thoughts always felt her presence, She was there under the tree and I was with her, Although in reality she was exploring her own present in that someone’s presence, Yet I loved to return to the tree and be there for hours, Thinking of her and the future that could be, Her and mine, just ours, and then it would create for us unending hours, I so deeply wished if it could be, only if it could be, The tree is there, the stream too, I am always there between the stream and the tree, They both know it too, But what I wish for the girl and myself, the stream wishes for the tree, So whenever I am under the tree thinking of her, The stream flows by looking at the motionless and stationary tree, And then both remind me of her, Both the stream and the tree, Now it is winter and the stream has frozen, Just like the tree, motionless and anchored in eternity of nowhere, And in me, just like the stream, her thoughts and feelings are frozen, Because she now is the everywhere and everything in my emotional state called nowhere, Like the stream that to express her feelings of love towards the never moving tree, Froze itself completely and turned still, To feel the feelings of her darling and ever still tree, That even in her frozen state she loves still, in ways silent and still, So I share the stream’s irony or maybe I share the trees stillness, Its silence, where it quietly discloses that it never moves anywhere because it loves the stream, That always flows through its roots of love, and when the tree feels this romantic stillness, It decides to lie anchored on the banks of the stream, to enjoy his love’s accessible stream, And I feel the same for her whenever I am under the tree, Or with the stream that flows beside it, For she still exists there, frozen for my sake by the always still tree, And her reflection too is frozen in the running water of the stream, and I love feeling the wonder of it, All of it, the stream, the tree, she; and her frozen reflection in the stream’s water, And whenever I am here, the tree bends a bit, the stream slows her pace, And I see her beautiful face in the flowing water, the stream’s clear water, And then I too slow down my life’s pace, in this love’s own space, where time always loses its pace!”

“Trail of lovers He had walked that path before, It was a place that was like a sea with no shore, But he walked anyway, Relentlessly every night and everyday, The path seemed to have no end, But he had his hopes and his aspirations to defend, He walked everyday, anyway, And it was so even today, The path appeared to extend into infinity, And he hoped for a moment of serendipity, But there was none, none at all, The path continued always ahead of his will, and the person in him, unwilling to fall, Until one day infinity got tired and abruptly ended, For it had exhausted its every reserve of finite moments that to safeguard its pride it had expended, When we all expected that he would now stop here, He pronounced, “I seek something that lies everywhere!” So, he continued walking and the path stretched as far as it could, Then one day time too got tired and said, “Stop please. Stop. You should!” But he smiled and walked anyway, Because he knew the path he had taken was not to be determined by the trail of the way, It lay in the vision of the mind where he bore her every sweet memory, And they fed his quest that would place him on the trail that was starry, Where sky was the limit, where time was the end, where everywhere was the direction, Because that is what is felt by a heart kissed by love and someone’s true affection, And the path has led him somewhere, that is what they say, Where, I cannot say that, I cannot; nay! Because time got tired chasing him and his trails of love, Now they say he resides somewhere where you can reach only with the feelings of that special love, That he felt, someday and someway, And in its lure he traveled far, and finally too far away, Where time gets tired to tread, Because there only they go who on feelings of romantic love are fed! And we often think of him, we even think of her, who made him so, But there, we who can never travel ahead of time, dare not go, There they now live together, On the trail of time that lasts forever!”

“Roses and they She had shown him many things, She had made him feel joys of many springs, They had been to many places together, They had found love in each other, He had believed in her and her every word, He had erected on the highways of his heart her every memories’ billboard, She had travelled on them for many years, She had never let time’s brevity be the reason for her fears, So they felt every passing day, they experienced life of love, So much, that they even felt loved by the feeling of love, She waited for him in every moment, She felt it was him whenever a leaf fell or she felt some movement, He too felt the same; as she felt, He to with her in his own heart dwelt, They lived a life that was unlamented by all virtues, They were kissed by life’s joys and and beauty’s all possible hues, He was unremitting when it came to loving her, He always wanted to be with her, forever together, Then one day they slept under a rose bush in full bloom, Then I beheld them being woven together on the life’s loom, He now lives within her and she lives within him, She is the rose bush that radiates with a different light under the moonlight dim, He is the roses which only bloom for her, And she is the rose bush that only grows for him forever!”

“Roses and they She had shown him many things, She had made him feel joys of many springs, They had been to many places together, They had found love in each other, He had believed in her and her every word, He had erected on the highways of his heart her every memories’ billboard, She had travelled on them for many years, She had never let time’s brevity be the reason for her fears, So they felt every passing day, they experienced life of love, So much, that they even felt loved by the feeling of love, She waited for him in every moment, She felt it was him whenever a leaf fell or she felt some movement, He too felt the same; the way she felt, He too with her in his own heart dwelt, They lived a life that was unlamented by all virtues, They were kissed by life’s joys and and beauty’s all possible hues, He was unremitting when it came to loving her, He always wanted to be with her, forever together, Then one day they slept under a rose bush in full bloom, Then I beheld them being woven together on the life’s loom, He now lives within her and she lives within him, She is the rose bush that radiates with a different light under the moonlight dim, He is these roses which only bloom for her, And she is the rose bush that only grows for him forever!”

“Feeling so It was not often she felt so, It was not often he felt her so, There was something about it and she wondered why was it so, There was something within her asking her to let it be so, It was beautiful, it was surreal, and nothing had ever made her feel so, It was forever that she wished, if she could feel so, And then wondered how could it be so, Forever with him, forever around him; and then forever feel so, Like the summer flower kissed my summer kisses, so often and so, Like the summer flower, she wanted to feel and then be so, And ah this feeling, to then forever feel so, And ah the touch of the summer that makes the summer flower feel so, A summer that it has never felt before, and it loves to feel so, A summer that always returns just for her and makes her feel the flower within her, and ah the feeling thereof and so, That is how my love Irma I feel, and the feeling is truly so, That of the summer, the summer flower, and in it all, just you, and ah the wonder to feel so! Maybe that is what love is about, and maybe that is why I feel so, Maybe that is what I had always wanted to feel, and now I feel so!”

“The lovers They had loved, they had cried, and they had smiled, together; Now they looked at the horizon of life and wished to gather, The moments inextricably tied to their lives, Upon which their present thrives, But they think of the future, and the moments of love in it, For they do not wish to live in the future, but a future with love in it, A feeling that rises from the bottom of their hearts, And then whether they are in the present or the future, it never departs, With these inalienable feelings of love they wish to be, For a day is lifeless when in each others eyes, their own reflections they cannot see, The boy loves the woman in her, while the girl loves the man in him, And this feeling lights up their pathways of life in moments where the light of hope is dim, So, he touches her face and kisses her wherever he could, And the girl feels everything a woman in her should, Then they endlessly look at the horizon of life and watch it turn beautiful, Because now he feels her and she feels him in ways fulfilling and full, And as the evening spreads across their amorous universe, Their feelings of love across it freely traverse, She tells him her story of her heart beats, and the boy too repeats, That how for her his heart everyday beats, Loving her, feeling her, being with her, until he feels his universe exists only because of her, And then once again he embraces her and then tenderly kisses her, And they both disappear from the worldly sight, Because they have evolved into everything now, the brightness of the day, and the beautiful secrets of the night, So whenever you see two lovers looking at the horizon of their lives, Be certain, that it is in them too, in their hopes, in their desires, that their love thrives, Maybe they have disappeared, and there is no trace of theirs left for the eyes that only see, Because the most beautiful virtues are the ones you can only feel and not see, with the eyes that feel before they see, So, they have disappeared because they felt what no lover has ever felt, And it was then I saw that even the horizon of the universe in their obeisance knelt, And now they live in each other, In the eyes of the other and forever together! And I hear the universe say, “this is true love of true lovers!” Who now love each other in the night's secrets, and their twinkling covers! As I leave the scene Irma, the night covers me too, And I escape into the world that it creates exclusively for me and for you!”

“As I loved It was a moment of inner strife, Where everything clashed with every force of life, The feelings shielded the heart, The memories protected the mind with an inimitable art, And in this brutal battle I was caught, Everything appeared flawed and with follies fraught, Heart was beating to please the feelings, And the mind dwelled on memories in its secret dealings, But whatever their acts might have been, They both were desperately trying to keep alive her beauty that they had once felt and seen, And I let them indulge in their acts, Because my heart through the memories of the mind was actually safeguarding its love pacts, Made many decades ago, But their authenticity and their freshness it could not forgo, And I knew both of them were willingly caught in this situation, Because it was their only possible means to offer me some emotional restoration, So that they could live as I lived, So that they felt loved as I loved! And they both silently quoth, “we love her,” And I openly said, “I love you because you love her!”

“Expectations of love Felt, but not heard, Experienced, but not rumpus, Her every love kissed word, That is often about us, When she utters it, Her eyes speak it, My heart hears it, While my mind helplessly flirts with it, Always offered, but never demanded, Invested, but never lost, These are the moments of love by her commanded, That keep us away from the time’s frost, And when I am felt by them, These infinite moments of love, I feel I live for them, Because often it feels I live through them, As she smiles at me through all of them, Always accepted and never denied, Always expected and never unwelcome, Her wishes and desires united, That my heart and mind always welcome, And ah the feelings of joys experienced then, And the endless feelings of love flowing through me then, As she journeys through me then, And I confess to her, “I love you now, as I loved you then!”

“Lover's experience Felt, but not heard, Experienced, but not rumpus, Her every love kissed word, That is often about us, When she utters it, Her eyes speak it, My heart hears it, While my mind helplessly flirts with it, Always offered, but never demanded, Invested, but never lost, These are the moments of love by her commanded, That keep us away from the time’s frost, And when I am felt by them, These infinite moments of love, I feel I live for them, Because often it feels I live through them, As she smiles at me through all of them, Always accepted and never denied, Always expected and never unwelcome, Her wishes and desires united, That my heart and mind always welcome, And ah the feelings of joys experienced then, And the endless feelings of love flowing through me then, As she journeys through me then, And I confess to her, “I love you now, as I loved you then!”

“Beauty and stone In the huge town square, A statue carved from stone witnessed every passer by, And wondered how it could similar movements acquire, So that it too could walk if not fly, Its eyes constantly looked at the strange faces, Its posture was always the same, It stood at just one place and it could never visit other places, For it had sacrificed everything in the static beauty’s name, That is still, motionless, feelingless and always the same, It even perceives different things with single perception of mind, Cursed to play over and over again the same game, Because for the statue-like beauty everything is predefined, The posture, the view, the stance, and I guess even its every thought, At least that is how I feel when I look at the statue placed in the main town square, It seems to seek what it since eternity has sought, Because it may bear a fixed expression, but that has nothing to do with its desire, Because it expresses what its sculptor felt, And in this crowded town square it looks the same every night, everyday and every time, Of its own sweet will it has never with anything dealt, It has witnessed many lovers’ kisses, and it has been witness to many a crime, But it is its irony to be a statue and nothing else, Beautiful to look at and admire, But it has a missing pulse, That of real, warm, sensitive and sensate beauty in its prime, So, I sometimes look at it and just pretend it noticed me, As I leave the spot, I see it unmoved and feelingless, To it nothing matters, who you are or who you wish to be, Because it is just beauty carved from stone, completely lifeless, And then my love I think of you, and I miss you, So I leave the statue and its stone carved beauty behind, Because the statue is beautiful, but it cannot be you, Therefore, instead in my memories and in my heart beats you I discover and always manage to find!”

“Beautiful ways Memories with deep feelings, Are like always retracting emotions, They drop like sticky cob web hanging from the ceilings, And retrieve many moments filled with deep sensations, Sometimes they lead to poignancy, And sometimes they bring flashes of her sweet memories, And then the heart struggles to find its buoyancy, Because the mind willingly all these moments carries, Poor heart’s every perversion, Fails to convince the mind to consider the heart’s requests, the heart that keeps it alive, Alas the mind is a slave to her memories and her beautiful sensation, And without bearing her feelings in no other thinking avenues it wishes to dive, So the heart beats with a sense of precariousness, While the mind seeks her sensations, her feelings and enters a state of meditation, Where it only ponders on her feelings and her loveliness, And the poor heart becomes the victim of its own creation, Of loving, of feeling, of emoting, of beating just for her, And as the mind becomes unresponsive, I neither think of my anguished heart, my inactive mind, but just about her, and only about her, And wait and hope that the reality becomes a little bit sensitive and a bit more submissive, But destiny that turns the wheels of time and everything, Has its own plans to execute and fulfil, To it love, lovers, feelings do not mean anything, Because it obeys someone else’s heart’s will, For destiny is true to her emotions and her love affair, And I too then proclaim I am devoted to my memories and their every sensation, And loving her is by all means sensible and fair, For if destiny can do what it pleases, my heart and mind too shall seek their destiny in their most loving destination, So let destiny play its game and cast the heart and mind in time’s bottomless well, But let it know, that we all- my heart, my mind and I, shall fill it too with her sensation, And then time may bid to every other life’s pursuit its final farewell, And then mine shall be the destiny and I shall live with her in the world that will be her beauty’s creation, So, let my heart love her enough, Let my mind think of her always, For time and destiny maybe tough, But love and facts always find their new and beautiful ways!”

“Pool of memories Like a dry flower petal that flies in the air, Feeling it belongs to the sky, I find her memories floating in my mind everywhere, Whether I am thinking of her or in a vacant state of my mind I lie, The memory, her memory, drifts from one neuron to another, Until it settles where all her memories lie piled up, And then these fragments and bits of memories condole each other, And they all say together, “Hey you amorous soul, never give up!” And all these memories rise and spread across my mind, Hitched to every thought that arises from my cerebral thinking, Though they think of now and sometimes of the future, eventually with her imaginations they all bind, And in this pool of memories, now, time appears to be sinking, So it doesn't matter whether it was yesterday or it is today, Because I have been granted my wish, That to lie immersed in her thoughts everyday, In this pool of her memories the only fish, That swims across it, Feeds on it, and lives in this pool, And then begins the true wonder of it, The wonder of the romantic pool, Where she assumes the form of every drop of memory, And like a fish I swim and dive into her soul freely, In a love’s own nursery, Where I love her and romance her freely!”

“Love forever She ran her fingers through her hair, A smile appeared, and faded in her face somewhere, Then as she lifted her eyebrows and she removed her freely falling hair, In her eyes I found my desires and their brilliant glows, and in them I too existed somewhere, Their charm immediately sieged me from everywhere, And I began sinking into her sensation, her dreams and her eyes, and in it I sank somewhere, Where my desires flowed unto her, Now even my closed eyes only beheld her, Her beauty had cast me in the crucible of love and its endless affair, That exuded feelings invading my soul, and I fell in love with her, With the glow in her eyes, with the smile that gradually submerges into her, And makes me feel that I am endlessly being kissed by her, I was engulfed by a veritable need to be with her forever, To be her only thought about a true, and her only lover, Whom she romances in the daylight and in the night’s dark cover, A beautiful feeling from which she can part never, A crescendo of joy that with every passing moment turns lovelier, Creating a cohesion of two feelings which coexist in the cocoon of love forever, She with me and I with her, Where all desires before these two feelings surrender, Creating a universe of love where my heart beats no longer whisper, But beat loud and confess that they only beat for her, And in return she too confesses, “I too will love you forever!” And I cannot help falling in love everytime I see the smile gracefully covering her.”

“What if and love What if time develops a trait to forget, What if light does not travel at all, What if life turns into a ceaseless moment of regret, And every perception of height begins to crumble and fall, What will become of the memories then, What will become of the darkness, Shall we be restricted to lead a life in a den, Where there is everything packed within feelings riddled with moments of nothingness, What will become of the love you felt, What will become of the faces you come across everyday, Shall the feeling die suddenly that arose in your heart when you had met, That special someone on that very special moment, on that wonderful someday, Will days then be reduced to just a someday, just another day, Will feelings flow like a river that does not know its course, But overflows its banks because it just wants to flow anyway, Will you be then frozen in moments of endless remorse, Because time has forgotten its preceding moments, Memories exist but for what the mind is unable to discern, And you lead a life that thrives on strange supplements, Of needless worries, and exceedingly needless concern, What if time stole from her my all memories, What will then remind her of me, Will she then lead a life of endless comedies or never ending tragedies, Because in the crowd when I pass by she fails to recognise me, I wonder what it will be like when time becomes forgetful, And light cannot travel anymore, Maybe I would choose to live in sublime moments deeply thoughtful, Where I will only think of you and nothing else no more, Then I will let time forget everything, And let light not travel at all, It cannot steal from me your memories because except you and your memories there is nothing, And then both time and light shall in the abyss of your memories fall, Where both will now only recognise you and bear your signatures, And ah, my joy to see you then appear everywhere, And I can barely wait to see light bearing your beauty’s textures, While Irma my love, time spreads your memories everywhere!”

“Mind and the streets! In the streets and across the lanes, Where eye of the mind its every faculty trains, The body sometimes seems marooned and vilified, By the mind whose every quest it defied, Because the body travels through these lanes and streets, Obeying the will of mind without seeking any treats, But sometimes the body begins to question why, Shall it be the one that always has to undergo the agony and yet never be able to defy, So, it develops a liking for the dutifully beating heart, That obeys the mind till its end, right from the very start, And slowly the mind senses the revolt seeking the form of an uprising, And it tames the body in ways strange and surprising, In the final attempt the body treats the heart as its central mind, Then the body is everywhere, and now the only thing you cannot find is the ever scheming and cunning mind! So the body lives happily with the heart, As the mind gradually knows its actual place and its influence begins to wane and depart!”