“Aye rose! Or by whichever name
they may call thee,
no less sweet
thy smell would be.”
So truly said a sage,
all many ages ago,
for no name can lessen,
the burning beauty’s glow.

So let the other mortals
spend their mettle and might,
and let more metaphors
for thee they wish or indite.
And as the rest preen for thee,
many more minutes may die,
while at thy feet they quote,
their vows and sighs.

Let me not squander any such seconds
and abet in a crime,
but instead make a heap
and gather these gravels of time.
And so a treasure I will own,
to fight against the clock one day,
since from the time’s rule and wrath,
none ever has escaped away.

So when at thy doorstep does,
to obey the tenet of time age arrives,
into thy beauty’s hour-glass
be poured my treasure and so will thrive,
the mist laden in thy eyes,
the lips where softness abides,
the crown of the dark tresses,
that grandly on thy head lies.

Defeated thus will thy age,
to lay asleep back it’s home return,
unspoiled thy beauty would wake,
with every new rising sun.
And in this world when counted be,
instead of penny or pearl to make a sum,
the grace, the flair, and the charm,
then the richest may thou become.

Let me take you miles deep into the past,
And stage the set where this show was cast.
Played by the people of the place called Rome,
When Claudius was the king who ruled their home.

Emperors fancy their empires to expand,
How different could be the lord of this land?
He craved for a lofty army to venture far,
So he summoned all men to join his war.

Battles bring home blood and tear,
To join the royal forces all had this fear.
If one breathes his last in the wear and tear,
What would life be for their loved one and dear?

To enlist when only a few hundred did turn,
With surprise and anger the king began to burn.
With handful men on the field he could nothing earn,
So he declared his dogma to have more of them churn.

“If the lust to live for a loved one holds you back,
The very custom of matrimony I order to sack.”
The troops tracked the traitors, lovers began to rue,
And the churches starved for the words “I do”.

“Way is where there’s a will”, said one of fame,
To bless the love’s laborers a holy soul then came.
Priest by profession, Valentine was his name,
To obey the decree and death, to him were the same.

Couples who wished to defy had always him sought,
In Valentine’s chamber they tied their knot.
During such merry moment the kings soldiers knocked,
The priest let the pair escape and got himself caught.

“Throw him into dungeons deep”, the king roared,
“Traitor he is, behead him to settle his score.”
“Treason it may be for you, but after I have died,
God’s court will greet me with grace”, Valentine replied.

In the prison wishes of many had him sought after,
Including the jailor Asterius and his blind daughter.
She brought him food and became his messenger,
A bond beyond words grew between him and her.

Valentine’s faith restored the sight of his caretaker,
No wonder he became a Saint later.
And before breathing his last, to her he shared a line,
“Love forever, from your Valentine.”

Easy to heal are the wounds,
that your enemy with a sword sears,
when you have a shoulder to rest on,
and hands to wipe off your tears.
But the bleeding self finds no rest,
and tears fail to abate,
when a loved one cuts your heart,
with the words of hate.

I knew not this when you left the door,
beats less this heart since and bleeds more.
Another day ends without any solace,
another lonely night searches for your face.
The clouds come over to beat their band,
the drops drizzle down for the longing land.
My eyes envy the earth and they weep for a while,
as they lay awake all night thirsty for your smile.

Forlorn lies the garden with a breeze so sedate,
when once cheerfully with your tresses it played.
The stars though they twinkle as before,
the songs they sang I hear no more.
Remember the blessings on us they had thrown,
when in the garden of dreams seeds you had sown.
“Sweet be the dreams tonight thou shall see,
tomorrow when thou live them, sweeter they be.”

Derelict lay them and when they wake up at night,
pose me a question you not being in their sight,
“When will the hands return, that here did stay,
that nurtured us all along, night be or day?”
Not again this promise should break I pray,
as, “Tomorrow they will,” to them I say.
And as long as death makes not my soul free,
Here I wait for that tomorrow and thee.

Every meeting of my eyes
with that of yours,
presents me with a puzzle
to ponder for hours.

As I catch your eyes
that glint with pain,
no musing ever has
let me anything gain.

‘Coz for seldom any worry
on your face for long remains,
after your serene smile
hides it all over again.

I then propel
my mind for a chase,
behind your wistful look
but again all hopes are razed.

‘Coz my mind returns muddled
as if out from a maze,
after you close your eyes
to hide the tears that glaze.

The music of silence
you just let it go on,
every thought of mine
wishes the day was little long.

‘Coz farewell then you bid to me
we part without having you heard,
hungry sleeps my heart at night
been starved for your words.

Poets and lovers for ages,
have relished the sky at night.
Writing their verses the poets cherish,
the stars within their sight.
And in their dreams the lovers wish,
underneath their twinkle lips performing the rites.

But to my heart these stars bring forth
no dream nor any reverie.
Gazing at those that twinkle,
my mind wonders a truth aloud,
the darkness that could have reigned,
had they all been covered with a cloud.

The same darkness would have ruled my life,
if right besides me had you not strived,
to push away the tyranny of troubles,
to break my burden into rubble,
to make yours all my worry,
to have shared all my grief.

You never needed any words to know,
what pain I hide and hidden let it grow.
That dwell’d deep, until I was blessed,
by an angel whose face your mirror nests.
No longer then any agony was my guest,
after in your arms I had put myself to rest.

Love they say
Thou art blind
So blame not this wind
Be a little kind.

He got himself struck
With the cupid’s arrow
His beloved was a flower
He met on the meadow.

Wind:
If we do dance like this
For a few minutes more
And if you don’t stop
Drowning me in your eyes,
Then dear lady be not be
Surprised if you find me,
Bent on my knees
Asking a favor from thee.

Flower:
Well, then let
No more minutes die
Echo those words in my ears
And end all your sighs.

Wind:
Hear then, for no more long
I wish to be a wind.

I want to become the garden
Where you are the flower,
So that beauties
Upon you I can shower.

I want to become the mountain,
Where you are the snow,
So your hand I can hold,
When the sun is low.

I want to become the forest,
Where you are the tree,
So that nature I can
Bring at your knee.

I want to become the sky,
Where you are the bird,
So that I can take you
To horizons never heard.

I want to become the moon,
Where you are the star,
So that carefree we roam,
When the world is asleep afar.

I want to become the love,
Where you are the beloved,
So that I can keep you
In my eyes safe and cared.

Flower:
Like the lone moon
That shines at night,
To offer the Cupid’s disciples
A dream and delight,
Your sole face
Stirs my sight,
And to you alone would
Serve my lips and my life.
Make me the beat that
Rhymes in your heart,
So that none but death,
Can take us apart.