Yesk Nair, 3 january 2012
That blue eyelids reminds me
Of the mist in December
The fog on the morning
Were she clad in white
Rapture of a lost kiss,
Never experienced
The lavender flowers
Oozed away from her hair
The lonely banyan tree without leaves
My son Thomas – never born!
My past in the Caribbean
The villages in kerala
Numerable lass secretly loved me
But never expressed
A window I used to watch
The infinite scenery nature present
Epochs resting in the laps of history
Quench of a lasting lust on her blue veins
My sobbing heart, nobody knows.
yesknair@gmail.com
Yesk Nair, 19 december 2011
Like a sorrow at the end of a smile
You came to borrow my pangs a while
Like a dew from winters of rapture
Fell in me, smeared and capture
So, December you‘re my winter
Of joy; from the valleys of foster.
Now on the eve of the New Year
On the dusk of this parting hours
Tell me…?
Where should we meet again?
Like an elegy to depart!
Is it in the aisles of a strange era?
Or in the mysteries of
An upcoming birth!
Or on the beautiful shores of Oblivion
Adieu –December till we meet
Till then you are my prosecuted dream
In the jails of ages!
Yesk Nair, 19 december 2011
The waiter asked me
What would I drink?
I replied-
“A cup of Love”
He smiled,
Brought me a photograph
Of Mahatma Gandhi and said,
“I don’t have one of Mother Teresa too”.
yesknair@gmail.com
Yesk Nair, 16 december 2011
Your Lips really required a kiss
From a warming lips
Your blue berry eyes
Really required a wink
From a passionate eye
Your bosom really required a hug
From a dream reapers warmth
Your neckline really required a touch
From the tenderness of a finger tip
Your heart really required a heart
Can bestow a chest of breeze
To wipe out the everlasting miseries
Your sensations really required quenching
For you really required a man
Can plow to your unfathomed depth
Make you full make you precise
Impart your dream children
yesknair@gmail.com
Yesk Nair, 16 december 2011
Storms through the chinks of chaos
Put out the lights of possibilities
They called it as war of necessities
They made these barren lands fertile
With the blood and dreams of the “futile”
This garden is, but sepulchres of unknown
The chariots of age will carry their souls
To the lands which they never know
Here, years back I will pray for you my bosoms!
To devour the elixir they forbidden
Even in stupor’s last layer not try to remember
The memories of your bitter past
Stay there till the last tree breath last
Be there till the last hill, river lasts
In a bliss of truth and beauty
Apart from war and booty
Keep your warriors on your brow
Like Ulysses they may come
With seeds of mayhem to sow
Teach them the gist of love and beauty
Send them back to their own homeland
Let them craft histories new
Sans war, crime and atrocities anew
yesknair@gmail.com
Yesk Nair, 16 december 2011
How many lips kissing me a day
On intervals I thirst for a new
Every lip has desire and grief
Some are barren some are baffling
Your kiss is bizarre and remote
It took me centuries back
Were we were molecules of clay
In eternal hugs and kiss.
Departed all these years
I was a swallow, a tree
A river and a brook!
Probing you through generations slit
Once you kissed me today
You never realized - but I
You were in oblivion
Or in emotions new
My brittle life frail in moments
In evolutions new we may never meet
From the dregs on the shores of time
I will blossom for you, only one more time!
If not, this is a sound parting.
Yesknair (yesknair@gmail.com)
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