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

Many of them wonder what I am dreaming of I am at the age when most of my life is behind me If I tell them the facts They will feel it is all an act I say, It is

Well if you think I’m cute and charming TELL ME… Don’t be shy, look me in the eyes and just TELL ME… Don’t be afraid to say what’s on your mind, you Just might be surprised, if you think I

In the quiet room, I was all alone. On the laptop screen, the onslaught of Primitive memories was making me cool. The lamps were not lighting the streets. While deleting the texts, I felt as if Some people were murmuring

Dear Irma I have great respect for you as well as all who preceded and who will follow you. I have refused to take any of you for granted even though I have never experienced your presence. Even though we

A dark night to pass by… Or is it a tunnel to eclipse my sky? Is it a pedantic whim … Or a lambent light exists at the brim? Confusion argues in my mind, Am I searching for divine? I

Well and as the music plays and everybody Dances to Mozart inside, I stand out here On the terrace all alone, outside. All alone except for the owls, the moon and the stars I might feel left out and down

Deep within the life of these brittle bones of man, a song stays hidden, so slow yet so powerful; it plucks the strings of our veins reminding us that the shallow roads are meant to be left astray. The words

On the hay stack lies my body brought from the shooting range. Brain dead, I exit, to watch the blood drenched earth. Foot prints of eternity. Window is shut. No light enters. In tiers, the cadavers are lying in a

You’re inside a reality as dripped by Jackson Pollack everything guided, everything only seeming accidental. Straight lines eaten by curves and color as a sense of inevitability. Somehow it turns out as thousands of interlocking narratives, never a single start

Do not stare at full moon. The distance between love and hate has narrowed. Not for the shrunk radiation, sun wants to hide behind the gift of sunflowers. The golden ring on the black finger, I love the death’s cry,

Now here’s my bloody sonnet for today, A trifle for my daily exercise; It’s best I try to keep it light and gay, Tho’ truly I am full of heavy sighs. My muse has been holding himself aloof, Yet condescends

In my search, I move away from where I want to go. In my attempt, I break away from the very goal. In my desire, I destroy My oneness With the whole In my words, I suppress the silence of

Well and it’s a winter wonderland tonight by the light of a bright full moon but THIS IS NOT ANOTHER LOVE SONG oh no it’s more like a dagger through the heart and a ghost from the past come home,

Don’t ever lie to me I will tell you this just once I Want to hear truth not a dishonest response, I’m good at detecting lies when they’re told One lie leads to many as deceit takes control, If lies

The face is a war mask And the eyes are made for crying The mouth is poison And the skull a cathedral Dreams are dreamt But are not seen And sleep is slept But is not solid Blue is the