Shelley’s servant”. Wasn’t that a wonderful gesture of humility by someonewho was such a great poet himself? And later, Bharatiyar had his own dasan, the poet Subburathinam, who tookthe pen name Bharathidasan. Subburathinam’s poetry inspired...

Her silhouette never has regrets.

I must find you. So I travel to the depths of hell and conquer perverse monsters and repulsive demons and the deceitful vicious devil himself to find the truth.

In that wounded place,buried betweenmy ribs and letting go,I miss you.

some words bring warmthjust bybeing next to each other.

thighs made of hymns, I read ’em like I’m reading runes. Now tell me where my future lies…your neck, can I Savion on it?

Decades from now, my grandchild is going to be a poet… And she’s going to write about how she’s a living testament to how her grandmother made love to hurricane and calmed the storm.

Different lifestory but with a same lovestoryThey mey once by serendipitySmiled at each other but totally stranger

Impulsive passion please set me free.

A sacred soul Thus, within the cosmic creation proceed Life is precious as gold Death will come In a better place, where there’s no earthly lifeEternity exist…God….. Judgement falls upon usNothing to minus and nothing...

how these words, wait to diein the arms of all the poetry..yet to be written.

Creation of a pregnant imagination.

I can’t love anymore.Except for you…I love you so much it hurts to breathe.

All beautiful distractions, ignites from you.

You bothered yourself and changed the season. I was left behind with your awful sounds.

And perhaps, I’m a Tuesday night and you’re a Wednesday morning the way we’ll never even notice how we blend into each other.

…I don’t want security – to be self-assured – I want to risk my heart in making your portrait and be paid the wages of your devotion…

We simply can’t feel fulfilled by love we pay for.

It is kind of ridiculous that a poet is expected to live in the real world.

Frequent friction when love becomes political.

I was just an option.Blown easily to piecesand offered to the skyby the sweet laced painupon your lips.

And like nectar inside the bud,my blood drinks from your blood, beloved,and starves to join the salvation in your eyes;to be understood again and again, by your nakedness and certainty, a humbleness that trickles into...

If my like for you was a footy crowd, you’d be deaf cos of the roar.And if my like for you were a boxer, there’d be a dead guy lying on the floor.And if my...

They call it poetry, what she feels with her mouth closed. By his.

…you can use words if you wish, but I’m warning you – I’ve learned how to read your heart …

The beauty of words will forever be stronger than the silence of tears.

EAT YOUR HEART OUT” to reach the goal.From the poem- Holy Dio: the Diver (A tribute to Ronnie James Dio)

This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm.

My emotions have already spilled out on a canvas; I need you my king, to rescue me from the madness!

You are the poemthat sticks in my throatteaching me to whisperwith the voice of my heart.

Mislaid flame of tender emotionsRekindled.Together we live to the point of tears,I wouldn’t want it any other way.

In the Light of your Wisdom, You Shine. In the Midst of your Truth, Your Faith is Evident. From inside your Spirit, You are Love.

Imagination makes the worldand all the wonders in it.The seed of every dream unfurlsas you with love begin it!

…my heart rides the wind and my thoughts sail away – to a land below the horizon where I know you hide from me…

a moment remindcountry side is burningin sun- there I want you,moment-monsoon at the door stepfirst shower of himunder its beneath want you to be closeto you–a moment to remind-nothing is there inwhich I don’t look...

I am a tale, I am a book, written in different languages and styles I can’t be read, can’t be understood,neither by me nor the greatest of minds I am too big, I am too...

I wish that I could fly into the sky and touch the clouds with my hands.

I build boxesand place them at your feet,to measure the distance between dreams and reality.

You can run from the truth. You can run and hide from the truth.You can deny and avoid the truth. But you cannot destroy the truth. Nor can you make the lie true. You must...

& I love Wordplay

… only a seer or a lover would know that I’m making a jewelry of words for you -drawn from your essence -to flash and burn with your fire -so you can bedazzle with your...

Your love is like star sky showers and magenta unicorns.

REMEMBER HER- sudden wind come through your open window a silent wave fall inside of room you run to catch your curtain and she is not in that room—– remember her a little you are...

i am permanentlytannedin the summer of poetry.

In you I see an immaculate woman full of feminine grace and untarnished beauty.

Careful.The fall is quick,steep,and permanent.

I looked at an angel today, but the angel could not see me. The angel was more amazing than beautiful, like the best forgotten dream.

Love did not die. I still create your image to my heart every solitary night.

…when I met you, you were so beautiful, the air around you vibrated with color …

Reminiscent of a diamond, she is gifted, privileged, and positioned to glisten.