Dancer - Contd.

This is a continuation from article - The Dancer

Intoxication had never been so strong,
That it had led him a mile away from path,
The jingle that filled his ears so long,
Had his senses fall to cupid’s wrath.

His eyes wide shut by darkness’ screen,
His tongue incapable for he knew not her name,
Yet the splendor of their amorous sheen,
Led his lips’ venture over to his dame’s.

Time had frozen in their passionate heat,
Their frames caught in an indivisible twain.
Like from daunting peaks, the melted snow sheets,
The robes flowed down from their decorated veins.

His silken palms causing her heart’s moans
Her breaths answering his longing calls,
With directions being their only gowns,
They found in each other, their ecstatic goals.

Strewn beads(from anklets) and flower petals took his dawn,
That stadium of love was a lonely wheat barn. (Hehehe)

The Dancer

An eerie night had set on his road,
The distance walked had worn iron shoes.
The mind that carried his despair’s load,
Was weary of circumstances and their noose.

And then she addressed him with a jingle
Of her anklet that so oft hath spoken her words.
Her tapping feat that the glass floor tingled,
Ordered his defenses to drop their swords.

His eyes now a puppet to her slender waist,
Gyrating about in a musical trance,
Like a jasmine creeper so dear and chaste,
When the breeze as a lyre, caused her dance.

And then her fingers played their scheme,
As they playfully covered her bashful face,
Like amidst the clouds that hid the moon’s gleam,
He saw her smile, yet lost it in a daze.

The jingle had merged with the drummer’s game,
Her frame now swaying in blissful disdain,
Her outspread hands as if calling his name,

She danced her way to her quarter’s lane.

Mother in love

Were it these tender legs that I embrace
That rocked my womb with merry kicks?
The red feet untouched by life’s dusty trace,
So blissfully unprepared for her toady tricks.

These unbiased palms that feel my teary cheeks,
The tears defining an ocean of joy,
And how do thee drive my whelming heart weak,
When thy fingers grasp mine in a telling ploy.

Thy face is to blame when I forget my way,
Thy smile is praise when I undo my pain,
Happiness caused me to beget thee, they say,
Instead, thou art the happiness that I had to gain.

Ever untouched by the seven emotions,
The seven colors fade to thy innocence’s shine,
Even more serene than the seven oceans,
May thee live in my heart and in this rhyme.

A Traveler’s Testimony

When my tired fingers find thy silken palm,
So generous in warmth, so loving in embrace,
Like the desert traveler who in trees of Palms,
Finds a noble companion in a wretched trace.

When thy eyes blink at me, so full and grand,
I vow that I finally have seen my deity,
For is there any other than my love, on this land,
Whose looks disarm me with unmatched beauty?

A mere pilgrim I am to the monument of love,
Wherein thou art my companion, thou art my deity,
Among relationships this is that sweetest dove,
Whose purity turns cast iron eyes misty.

No monument of marble, built by lovers’ pedigree,
No lyrics that have found musicians’ strings,
These verses are my humble portrait to thee,
Of our love that hath set my emotions to wings.

The call of Nature - On World Evironment Day

Delivered from the womb of the big blast,
She grew to be heaven’s priceless jewel,
Patches of green with those of blue, so vast,
She, in her, promised many lives to revel.

Greenery watered by the duteous rain,
The rain fed by the righteous cloud,
Riches borne on her generous mane,
She carried like a bride’s nuptial load.

And then, the eyes so lustful in deed,
Saw reasons to build on false desire,
They ran in wounds into her holy seed,
That her richly womb be bled, so dire.

Lest the notoriety of this bloody plunder,
Wreck a curse on our days to follow,
Lest the hands that cradled us, so tender,
Lead us grimly to hellish gallows,

May we wake up to from this ghastly scene,
And wash the blood off the swords,
Not with tears, but with acts of preen,
With diligence covering every possible ward.

May we not sever trees for any cause,
For such causes are borne on flightless wings,
May we now sow seeds to endorse,
Every birth, AND whenever birthdays ring!

In admiration

This subject celebrated by legions of eyes,
Yet none to decipher her, O sigh!
That smile that unarms even the wise,
O woman, thou art a treasure in disguise.

Yet, who’s treasure shall I name thee, O Dear,
So oft has claws of possession wronged thy mane,
How uninitiated are those jeering seers,
Who seek to grasp the wind, alas in vain.

Valorous at the door yet vulnerable at the window,
Daring at war, yet gracious on the floor (dance floor)
Loving to the cradle, yet stoic at vow,
Beauty in the skin, the interior hath filled with lore.

The Valient Men - Puzzle

Two armies of four meet at war,
the valient men split evenly by the star,
When Mathematics' queen swung her magic dome,
the aura reduced them to a palindrome.

"We count on Dada"

Thus spake Rahul Dravid emphatically about Ganguly after the victory over the Lankans in the final match. It was perhaps a year ago that Mr. Ganguly found himself in the woods of the cricketing world. With his skill letting him down, his coach writing him up, with English Literature giving him an infamous crown(the word "ganguly" made it to the Oxford dictonary meaning "to come and go immediately"), his personal life being put under the microscope...and the list goes on. It struck when Mr. Ganguly, shedding the fangs of remorse, sitting in an empty stadium addressed the Nation with a "have you forgotten me already".
And today, he is having one of the most successful come-backs a sportsman can dream of. Each visit to the crease has been a resurruction of sorts, of a persona, of a skill, and most importantly of a career. Probably Oxford should change the meaning or atleast add a pun to the word "ganguly" now meaning "to go and come back immediately"!!
The only song that plays on my lips today is:
"Toota toota ek parinda aise toota, ki phir ud na paaya....jo bhi ho kal phir aayega"

Hats off..wait..no hats off to Mr. Ganguly. For, neither was his fall in fame his crime, nor is his resurruction, his heroic! This is a game of an up and a down, a crest and a trough...so aptly mentioned in this song. The heroic is to live it.

I do know if it is pre-mature to write this..however, I better write it better it is too late to notice.

Answer to Puzzle-II

Thanks for your participation. Here is my thought about the puzzle.

He = Fire; I = Smoke

That vibrant nature of the fire and the quiet nature of the smoke(line 2)...Smoke rises from fire, yet its the smoke that puts off fire(line 3).

Puzzle-II

The dimensionless he and the formless me,
My quiescent gait and his glorious dance,
From him I am roused, yet, he is fallen by me,
Name our identities to have this puzzle in lance.

Who is he and Who am I??