I. Never to Catch Me
I am not the one everybody meets,
But the one who never speaks;
Do you know me?
In a hidden garden, do you feel silence
of the heart surrendered to the vibrato of violin roses?
Do you ascend like a white cloud patching with lyrics a blue wildflower lea?
Do you fringe sighs with waive red color opiate filed of poppies
Do you still wait for me on the corner sinking nervous into a dark with the dusk ship
and holding on a mellow hope soaked in a fragrance of a honey suckle musk?
This is me.
Walk besides me,
climb every step all the way,
and catch a distant smile of a rainbow
bloom crossing the hummingbird’s flight
long caressed in runs and haired winds
filled with burdock stickies.
After this and much more you’ll know me
when we crush on the shores with waves
disfigured and with no safe-harbor,
but let them tell tales while night calms the unrest sea
stung with the last sunset rays echoed in the seagulls’ scream;
Run on a love verse for me.
You’ll know me if you step in
a sporadic storm of tears
rhymes whispering just for me.
II. Subtle April Shower
I am the one who never speaks,
And not the one that everybody meets…
While waiting at the city bus stop
I stand in the April shower puddle turning into a sunny shimmer
where worried faces are shadowed in that sudden mirror
and, somehow, my reflection is missing
as the minds’ presence of near by lovers kissing
while the last ride for the day departs
leaving their caressing raptness to fill holes and gaps
between cricketing sunset darts.
First publishe on: Apr 7, 2012 @ 23:12; Today Old New Poem
The Gitanjali or `song offerings’ by Rabindranath Tagore (1861–1941):
“Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. I feel the embrace of freedom in a thousand bonds of delight.
Thou ever pourest for me the fresh draught of thy wine of various colours and fragrance, filling this earthen vessel to the brim.
My world will light its hundred different lamps with thy flame and place them before the altar of thy temple.
No, I will never shut the doors of my senses. The delights of sight and hearing and touch will bear thy delight.
Yes, all my illusions will burn into illumination of joy, and all my desires ripen into fruits of love.” (original translation, 1913)