Chaste Poems

A poem writes my name. I am trembling on paper like salt. Flowing like moon on the black wound. The lamb and the skull. I know the saint invented by masses. You need a fresh awakening. A vastness from nothing

How to begin the journey of truth? it was moving away from all paths. No concrete answers were there, questions loomed large, a moaning confusion reigned. I moved inward, to open the door, I had to talk to my poems.

I refuse to inherit cruel conditioning I will breathe my own bizarre air Call me a rebel if you wish I don’t deny, nor do I care Bare feet on filthy roads A brutal smile to each stranger I refuse

I belong to the song of the sun Humming the chants of flame I breathe. The sea rests in me motionless With its endless depths I think. Storms of being, clear the chaos Emptiness of chaste silence I hear. A

The flag unfurled, and from within, fresh rose petals Jauntily floated down like gently melting snow flakes. Soon, even the smell of freedom dissipated, losing its Way into the winding lanes and by lanes of our lives. Tell me, which

”You live in a queer world of dreams, Mr. Ahmed Turning odd imaginations to mere fancy words Bejeweled by baffling metaphors and similes That one mightn’t get the hang of with ease Why don’t you eschew the pesky rhyme rule,

My bafflement forces my day to waste, Shall I for them or for my eyes alone Or for a purpose yet abstruse, go on – Another serving of this bitter taste? Yes sinner I am trying to be chaste, fixated,

Let’s be swans in another life, Stand in peace side by side. Touch one another with eyes, Look chaste and princely white. Purity we will symbolize, When we spread up to rise, Become envoys from the skies And sing together

Today I want to take a lethal dose of black lips, confronting the killer on contract. Time dithers to escort. May be a cold-blooded murder of a handful of sick shadows will give a transparent memory. Planting a sad kiss

This bonded fear bids for power, Will I destroy myself in valley of puppets? War in dreams, of sins and morals of masked pretentions wears me off. Time rolls violently near the periphery, before it flies away. One chaste run

When my self , apart roams , My conscience recalls madam Marcelene Gomes. My teacher at St. Bartholomew’s school, Who taught us the virtuous rule. A fine and devoted teacher, Humanity and spiritual preacher. A woman of strict conduct, Employing

There once was an imp whose appearance was vain, his behavior was foolish, even his speech and imposing mannerisms were maimed! From those eastern cannibalistic lands afar he and his kind had once been blessed, indentured to serve the superlative

Audacity to live with your demons, putting up a fake love belief, who was the time, of that dark night? Distinctly alive to what I was not just putting up the shades of death into nothingness of peace in war.

profiling the divine phallus on terraced shrouds of fault the dilemma of arcane notation starts for that succultent rumours, emotively torn asunder, a green room becomes epiphanic, the voice was gone with black sun; buried onto neck in the drenched

Shedding the wholeness of negation you arrive: fear was sweeping the floor when smoke screen of love was hung on blue morning, you groped for a hidden coin, lost in the woods of mania. Distinguishing a chaste word, without thought,

Twined in time and silken shadow Bathed in light and blinded there Lost in rhyme on greenest meadow Confusion, sadness, a cross to bear Can time make end this never-ending? Can future lost e’er be replaced? Can past distort the

The crown he wore weighed him down, his uncertain tone wreathed As his face so stoic hid the storm that surged beneath Its not about my faith in you, for I know your morals are true I know you’re as

Urn was carring the snow unmelted like the soul of night. It was a very strange winter like araucaria puzzle. Who was dragging the evergreens over the chaste cliff? All the incogerent roots have broken the placenta for new gods.

sometime I watch the fear held aloft by you, possessed, you try to protect yourself from you in vain, very thirsty, white hydrangeas on your lips tremble, exhaust their need for clouds in blue eyes, pale fountain gives up tumult

Was it a summer storm of sexuality? Only the chaste statue stood in threads, and then went down the cuticle with nipple rings. The demand of namelessness was rising in the dim shadows of brisk tones. To step down from

A crooked slanting moon shifts the eye comes under the chaste tree and washes the tainted victory. Wolves start howling at the tomb of unknown martyr, man-eaters recoil on the sugar island and talk about destinies, A mourning crowd walks

At the end of the thought was sadness. When temple lies broken a little white lotus comes up on the tranquil lake. A cute word enters the lone voice, stands down, collapses, retreats into silence. A chaste tree becomes a

Waiting for a chaste bread, whole life under the moon, to speak off the inconsistency of happiness, with a monologue of a needle in eyes for a madness of sublime verse. Canoeing in a frozen lake for a stranded rose,

It was a taxidermal view thousands of fawns on the lake. Can you handle the die-off of the whole truth? I have nowhere to go. Genes are turning on, turning off. Bare hands holding the bruises. Hungry, but cannot eat

Goose-stepping on a soul song you set the sky ablaze, and I was not ready to welcome you. I was hungry and I was thirsty but could not find the road. Back and forth, back and forth walking with the

It was a slant love. Back to back, lips to lips. Lethal and dark strong yet delicate like spider’s web. A dark side of the moon sending conflicting signals to bacilli- of dirty lane, pink and blue. My pug licks

One physical world has as many manifestations as there are minds, for each mind sees the world and infers its own interpretations. We both live in this One world but your world seems entirely different from mine. My world is

Am I tired of this life, Or of words that are as lethal as knife. Am I tired of being used, Or upset with emphatic abuse. Am I tired of being strong, Or disgusted with the blames of wrong. Am

As the ink flows and the heart glows, While your words rejoice in an enormous light, How do you come up with another set of questions? And still have a peaceful plight.. Trust your instinct within, Feed your fire, fuel

Well you ain’t been nothing but a thorn in my side since you came into my life I thought by now you’d take a hint I don’t really want you in my life but still you insist on coming over

I said I would dance only if he sings; And he insisted I kiss him – Only then would he sing; I moved closer, His smile widening with every step of mine; He held out his hand – And I

Water pouring inside the fence of beyond ten feet above the surf waves climbed higher as the tide was coming in at the usual hour Rocks mixed with shells colored brightly like a bright morning sunlight oranges, gray, blue and

Guilt is a mermaid picking strawberries at a grocery shop You think you see it there But you are the only one And you are allergic to strawberries. Guilt is an armour you tragically fall into As soon as you

1st July 1916   The roses of Picardy are blooming Red like the blood we will spill The sun shines onto the yellow wheat That drifts and flows in the summer breezes. We face the Saxons, brothers-in-arms, This quiet landscape will

True love knows no pain…love Is a rare and precious thing and Has no chains…true love is the Dream of dreams and love to me Means never having to be lonely Doing whatever it takes to make That one special

At ethnic moment on the moonfront, artless impressionists of parallel conflicts with anxious looks come to share the self realized truth of mangled uncertainties, watching your own dead body: small chicks huddle together for contemporary thoughts of violence-to kill or

‘Cede yourself to me, And you will never be alone again. You’ll be revered. Adored. Treasured. But you must give yourself to me- A willing concedes’, Fiend allures. My conscious says acutely ‘Don’t listen’ And for an instant I don’t

My head was down the view so foggy knees on ground body, strength and courage all torn and I, totally worn. Still there was something that wanted to look at my heart, I blinked to clear my eyes and this

I was always overwhelmed at the thought of learning yoga….. Not that there is a possibility of me becoming a yogi, Or snub all mundane things I love, and brag! The sight of people in tights and and tops, the

In the maze of words and tales.. You behold grace .. of a beautiful phrase! Medial of cacophony and melodic sound.. You hold the awe of primodal musical confound ! As dark dusk domes above the temple.. Farthest sound of

Want to blossom like a flower but the winter is too severe, want the snow to thaw but the sun is too weak, want to fly spreading my wings but the blood is frozen, want to sing aloud but for