Mermaid's Song

Can you hold on for a second?

Those tears in your eyes

For I would swim in that lake

For once, before I die

Don’t speak of love tonight

We’ll have time for it.

But if I drown in your lake

You think this wreath will fit

My hyacinth-smelling head?

And this song will sound apt

Beside my oyster-bed?

O another drop I see

Is it born just for me?

Pushing me to my second death

My oceanic ecstasy..

Yes love has left me cold

As I had been fondly told

“I will love you more than thee”

Say what can you claim more

Than what they did before?

Would you cry just for me

Love, that’s all I wish to see…

Flight... DELAYED, not CANCELLED

I won't care to fly
Even if you give me purple new wings
And paint a spotless sky
Even if you have an artist's brush
You don't know, not yet
The colours I like
'Cause I don't want to rush
Even if my words move like light
Between two clashing spheres of reality.


P.S. To the one who just got boarding passes of FLIGHT 41011 to Illyriana.

To the "Perfect" lover... who died in the womb

Fragments from our Spanish tryst

Crowding on my opposite wall

Like vapors from a morning mist

I see them rise , I see them crawl

Oh, you cannot see them

They are perfectly small

Like those shy red paisleys

On my black evening shawl

Remember?

The violin player and his Pekinese dog

The tired swallows wrapped in fog

The three old priests on their way to church

Sleepy little bats hanging from the arch

By the wine boutique

You don’t recall it at all?

How we waltzed in the warm wooden hall?

How I envied the wedding dress

On that Korean doll?

And how you loved her Oriental smile…

You…

Where are you now?

In that dream that’s lost in void

Or on that film that the sun destroyed?

Dark Circles

I get them as i wake up from your dream
Like i have forgotten my under-eye cream


They are not actual black-shaded spheres
But shallow dark crescents for my trailing tears


Nest for their soul, they glisten as they roll
As i descend to the haunted first floor


Down the spiral staircase to that locked door
Where our dreams lie broken, lifeless to their core


Does every new beginning come to an end?
And the moon is eternally engulfed by the fiend?

Open Door

When pictures aren't perfect anymore

And you fall in love with a whore

When water freezes in the earth's core

And gulls die on a sea-shore

When you're just about twenty-four

And your dreams refuse to soar

 Don’t lose heart…

'Cause there must be an unlocked door

That leads to your mom’s bedtime lore.

Wine girl's love song

I saw you last night
Parking your car outside my bar
And looking for reasons
To come in
But didn't I tell you?
There is no reason
Or suitable season
For us to meet
Or smile and greet
Cause it's all over
Our graves look so neat
With that single white flower
Growing at mine
And bending towards you
We are so near yet so far
Like plants look from a cable car
Or that unnamed star
That is about to die
Oh, c'mon don't cry
We all die
Some together,some alone
Ain't it, lover?

When the 'sphere' is 'shake'n...

In that green loch...
Ophelia will drown
Macbeth will lose his crown


On this wooden porch...
Desdemona may die
And Lear cry


But in my world,
Shylock loves
And Cordelia lives


'Cause in their world...
Miranda fakes
And Ferdinand cheats...!

"If this be error and upon me proved

 I never writ, nor no man ever loved"

Anachronism

That day I saw Venus

Striding along me on a beach

Looking below each sand grain

Overturning dead oyster shells

In pursuit of a woman's heart

That will willingly sustain

Curing pains of erosive love

Poor Goddess failed to find

One 'single' heart

In this world of pseudo-love!

I met Cupid the other day

Little devil-in-disguise

Searching between sheets

Looking for his now-broken arrow

That once struck a young man’s heart

Warm but utterly narrow

It then dawned upon the mother-son duo

It's not possible to alter this status quo

So I'll now write down their epitaph

Hope all of you had a good laugh

The Shift Of The Magi...

A purple evening rolls in through a half-open window..

Bringing with it tired flakes of English snow

Quite unwelcomed by the yellow colour on the wooden pallet

And the painted lady in her frozen ballet

Maria wishes for a studio in London, if not Paris...

Paul dreams of winning a chess Grand Slam, if not tennis.

And night enters their one-room flat quite unceremoniously

To mingle with their shadowy dreams- private, absurd, silly

Do you see him ironing his patchy linen shirt?

It's for tomorrow's work in the local liquor shop

And her stitching on her brown corduroy skirt

It's the one she has got from the street by the bus stop

The Church bells make her shiver in her chair

She recalls her blasphemy in the time for prayer

At fourteen she traded the Bible for oil paints

Chose canvas over parables, scriptures and saints

They shake him too from his pleasant reverie

And brings back the flashes of a forgotten memory

How he won his first game of chess at eleven

Bunking a Sunday-morning service, infuriating Heaven