My world crumbled

I'm withered. Yes I'm withered

By these northern winds that

Blow upon these turbulent seas.

Disassembled by the sun that

Sways over the skies.

What good did thee bring, sunshine?

What good;

But to light this waste and dust

Spread over these lands so ungrateful.

What pity are you giving,

What love will thee shed?

I see you riding your high winds,

Over dales and ditches all the same.

In some  place, the light, lights up the way.

Whereas at others I only see life when its grave.

And you wind,

You marauder of nature.

Masked in your glorious contour.

What love did thee bring from over the seas?

I can smell only the

Filthy fragrance of my surroundings.

What love did thee bring as you promised?

What message bottled did thy sail

Carry across the sea?

It was but terror, terror

And worldly manners while

My world crumbled under the weight of its wave!

-- Mohan

Another Day

Frivolous dreams echo in my sleep, wanton

Thoughts of willful disobedience, scream

In this canopy of endless nights.

Magenta clouds, their silk dress embroidered

With sunlight bold, yellow, colored in nature exquisite.

Skies so cold, their breath sweat drops of dewy remorse.

Marauders and sailors vying against hope, defying

The very nature of land, to stay still, and eat fresh food.

Stale and sombre for days on end. Waiting for the

Sickle to bend. For the hammer to fall down

On broken earth and dry riverbeds.

Another day, another sunshine, another dream.

-- Mohan

Morning doubts

He walked around with his head submerged in doubts,

About the coming tomorrow.

Listening to the ‘leaves of grass’ shedding

Tears in the morning sorrow.

Without a glance, he changed his stance

To resemble the clouds flying afar.

Feeling anon, with his head on stone,

Turned up to gaze at a falling star.

Tears in his eyes, his legs frozen and cold,

His heart covered in a mannequin fold.

What could it be, his longing for sanity,

An unrequited dream? A passing fantasy?

-- Mohan

Timeless frenzy

Your sweet breath it lingers on my earlobes,

Sauntering, blossoming its wild fragrance.

Your voice, it haunts my chilled bones,

When all that I’ve asked for has been granted.

How we lay there, pouring our souls bare

On the cotton crevices of our bedded bodies?

Sleeping on the sweet succour of our innocence

Playing tricks on senses, skin, touch and feel.

When we knew our eyes and ears,

Our nails, fingers and fears

Would all be erased in a timeless frenzy.

Our hearts now don’t beat at the same place,

Nor do our breaths match the temper of crashing waves.

Our eyes only see the sands slip away, from

Under our feet into the dreaded tidal sway.

-- Mohan

Alone, let's make love

Like a mentor teaching

His son to breathe.

The girl would not

Uncover her sheath.

You lost me, when

You said you had me

Going, when the last

Thing I want to be

Is annoying.

One building is bigger

Than the other in size.

The bigger the thicker

Are their faces disguised.

The chimneys allow the

Smoke to go through holes.

Every city has a place

To blow off, a whore.

A limerick, a dark comedy

Suspends the air in

Unseen algae, no peering eyes

Parked in the lobby.

We are alone,

Let’s make love.

-- Mohan

Beside the house

Listening to the heartbeat of a wagtail,

Running on the ground covered in dust and ash.

Sweating not in the summer heat, but lightly pressing

Its feet to the earth, scampering to her nest.

A crawling mongoose, with ferocity in her eyes,

Lurking creepily under the bushes, searching

For something to eat, now and then coming out

Into the sunlight, standing tall with her tail behind.

A few sheep grazing gracefully, quietly

To fill their larder. Once they go home

To feed their young ones with milk

Sweeter than nectar, nutritious and pleasing.

Every one of the old, surrendering

Their self to fight for their young.

Who sit and wait in the shadows to eat

And savor the tit-bits to grow up

And take the same care and share the same story.

-- Mohan

Chirruping bird

Chirruping bird,

Chirruping bird.

You sing with the buzzing bee.

Like, no other song I like,

You sing your melody.

Chirruping bird,

Your heart is sweet.

Your throat is made of harp-

Woven from the softest silk.

It tears darkness apart!

-- Mohan

Trepidation

 Magical and misty nights,

Drown my corpse'y bed.

Lying above the field of cotton candies,

Soft, tender and silky white.

Dreaming of blue water droplets,

Falling from the green leaves of trees

Bending over to get raped by the wind,

That pushes on and on in a ritual intercourse.

Sweet sweat flowing down the hair,

Burning eyes that are closed and wet.

On the pillow a lusty maiden

Lays her head.

Turn, kiss, love

Get lost!

-- Mohan