30 Nov 2010
Post by santhi
[image align=”right” img= “http://poeticfeast.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/flower.jpg” alt=”flower & bee” /]
From the day I bloomed,
He is so intimate to me.
Often teasing me while playing,
His soft fondling so soothing.
I Dance in tune to his whistles,
Swinging in sheer intoxication.
During peak summer days,
He very seldom shows up.
Alas, I feel dry and drained,
Cheerless with my charm lessened.
I wait for nature’s outpouring, the
Time he rejoices and reappears.
Tender is he, so cool and chilly,
But in frantic moods whirls so wild.
Shivers he gives, difficult to withstand,
Swoops down as to sweep and swallow!
Even twists and tosses me in blind fury,
I bow in obedience to avoid scuffle.
A play boy is he in sensuous mood,
Flirts with me and flies off when I blush.
Quiet often he turns jealous and sizzles,
Puzzling me with his frivolous tricks;
To drive away that black lusty boy,
Who stealthily sucks my honeyed lips.
My life is too short, withers in a wink,
But immortal is he and omnipresent.
Gradually I will lose my grace and fall,
Decay and become one with the soil.
For the last time he will kiss me, but
Will carry off my fragrance to spread out!
A princess am I with matchless beauty,
A bounteous source of hues and scents.
Blessed Am I to embellish this world,
Being the best among God’s creations.
How long you lived? Does it matter?
How you lived? Is it not that really matters!!
2 Comments
Dear madam
i am reading your blog’s poems .they are very passionate as well as highly poetic.It reminds me of kamala das or Aandal of Tamils.Try to get them published
Dr.Ramanujam
FROM PARA 1 TO 4 I BELEIVE THE THEME OF THE POEM IS THE WIND.These paras are true to facts and the poet has succeeded in creating a feeling of the wind that one has through the seasons.THEY ARE SO LIVELY AND AND VIBRANT.BUT SUDDENLY SHIFTING THE THEME TO DEATH AND THE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION OF HOW LONG YOU LIVED OR HOW YOU LIVED WHICH IS IMPORTANT –IS HIGHLY INCONGRUOUS AND SPOILS THE MOOD OF A VIBRANT LIVELY FEELING THAT A YOUNG WOMAN HAS WHILE ENJOYING THE WIND .I SERIOUSLY DOUBT WHETHER THE POET IS TRYING TO FORCE MERGE THE NATURE POEMS OF ROBERT FROST AND THE DEATH POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON… ONLY THE POET CAN SAY…BECAUSE BEYOND MY COMPREHENSION…. MAY THE POET LIVE LONG…AND NOT THINK OF DEATH AT THIS YOUNG AGE P..PLEASE…