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Last night remains a scent

Last night remains a scent
  Remembered at slow length –
Drawn from the air, lingering about –
  A secret kept under my breath.

The union of your soft lips
  Upon mine – warm and precious –
Mixed with your fingertips
  Touching my arms were luxurious.

Your flirting, like your words, stumbled –
  Became nervous on cue.
Your eyes – brown like truffles –
  Were delicious to my view.

Yes, above all else, your eyes
  Are what I remember.
Let me kiss your eyes shut tonight

To a stranger who has died -

To a stranger who has died -
  Money is nontransferable;
That the Egyptians tried -
  The kings - they're unconsolable

But I know some things that follow:
  A reputation that's admirable;
Fame - too - worth much in gold
  As well as a pretty caricature.

Others will take their talents
  And I - by history’s sieve -
Will take - cheating prognosis -
  My poems with me when I leave.

I'm envious of the clouds

I’m envious of the clouds
  That float happily in the sun –
Changing into colorful shrouds –
  Lumping from many into one.

Their most compatible friend –
  The wind, admits
They beautify the high heaven –
  As nebulosity permits –

Travel without a passport –
  Slipping away on a whim
For a day’s length or more –
  Then return a denizen.

UPSIDE DOWN

UPSIDE DOWN

I am upside down, even inside out
Confused as ever, expecting nothing
Swerving, with hands off the wheel
Yet somehow, a bland satisfaction
That little can really tempt me now
And immune, even in one dimension
To my being put right all over again
That ward would never be my friend
As I have no friends left, as I can tell
My identity is now just in the wind
Circling around me, with that smile
Yet on the horizon I can still see Hell

A heartbreaking goodbye

A heartbreaking goodbye Is not a person leaving; It's a memory fading away, Even if it never existed. It's a childhood ruined By a parent's greed, Until the pain Turns into a silent echo. It's a dream vanishing Under the pressure of growth, Turning us into Soulless sheep. It's the toll time made On the torn paper Full of poems We call our skin. A heartbreaking goodbye Is us leaving ourselves On the street of life, Alone before the final bow.

Weary day surrenders to night;

Weary day surrenders to night;
  She wears a pleasant countenance.
Echoes of traffic hush the strife
  Of a long day; a moment of silence

Makes still even the Holy Ghost
  As the cobalt of the sky fades.
A moth makes love to the lamppost
  Knowing the warmth of its rays.

Come darkness, come tomorrow.
  Will they bring the nice thoughts I’ve thought?
Yea, my heart is not shallow
  But guides in a way my eyes cannot.

Death, to me, is a stranger;

Death, to me, is a stranger;
  I know not his whereabouts.
I’ve seen him but haven’t heard –
  I know of him but we’ve not met.

He spoke at length with my elder
  And convinced him to go.
I got to say good-bye before
  He left, but of Death, I don’t know.

He seems so popular among
  Celebrities – distant and queer.
With the sickly, too, he throngs –
  Too important to come here

Although once, without persistence –
  Death did rap upon my door.
I was busy – I did not answer

An inhospitable truth I have

An inhospitable truth I have
  To carry throughout my life
That must stay buried in my heart –
  What a terrible truth!

It dances on my tongue
  When I feel somebody knows.
On the scale of history – it nags;
  On a bone – it gnaws.

It’s the shadow that follows
  My genetic path incurably.
It will follow me into death
  And be the Ghost beside me.

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