Tuesday 13 January 2015
Written: 2009 ( Baked English [1] )
Start: 04:15
End:
05:00
YOU
STOLE MY ROSE
Who knows
its feeling?
The way I
know it…
Who
silently bleeds with love?
The way I know
it…
Who- then
does not say it out!
The way I know
it…
Or who then
does claim,
To have it
tattooed on her heart
Yet she
restrains herself from its utterance?
Why then…do
not I-have you
If love
loves me, me loving you and you loving love?
Was it love
in the first sight?
Or it was just a wild infatuation…
Who knows…except
the very day that saw it!
The only
sound that I know of,
Was the
effusive cry of the heart!
‘Infante- infante
what an infanta,
That I see
in my loose eyes like this?’
Egregious
beauty- I told to my lonely heart!
Did it take
time for me to enter Eden?
Did it take
time for me to see your smile?
Or…just an
overall exposure, of your enfranchised beauty?
Who knows
except the one who fall in love,
With the
real man, among men…
But tell
me, who- then is to blame for your absence?
This is the
only medicine that would cure my wound!
But, how
then do I know…
If I am
talking to the two of us
My love and
my heart
Then…does
it satisfy you to see my troubled soul?
Why- then…not
just say it out…to save me,
From more
sweet words to say
Because to
me… you are the sweetest chocolate sweet,
I have ever
smelt it scent!
That…which
stimulates my sensational emotions,
Only from
the natural perfume and reputation!
But only
saying it for the past’s sake!
My heart is
furiously bleeding with love and fire!
Why then…did
the muffler go with the bull?
Why then… did
the bull fought in my ground,
If I claimed
to have loved, the velvet canvas cloth?
Why then… did the bull give me horns?
And how
come now, I am holding the muffler?
Am I becoming
slow or being leaped by time?
Then how
could these bulls play,
With the
matador like that…?
If only she
knew what to say!
If only she
knew how combustible she is!
Her being
me…how could she predict the future?
A bed of roses
or an end to untold page…
A bed of
roses was not bad!
But was it
really her rose?
Was she to
just appear…just like that?
Was she to
re-candle the dead candle?
Or just to
let the arrow loose?
A furry of
love, hunour and respect,
How then
did she appear… just like that?
And how
then was she holding my rose?
An angel
would be better,
Than a mistime
mystic mirth!
Was it just
a plain mortise?
Or an
engulfing mortise?
Who would
know…
Except the
itching hands,
And the
bleeding soft heart!
How could a
supposed rose,
End up in
these… supposed rose?
Who knows
except the other day,
That will
witness the love triangle,
Between
love, me and you!
I guess it
would not end up as a rhombus!
Unfortunate
connection of two triangles…
Nevertheless,
one man’s trashy
Is another
man’s treasure!
One would
not mind such a treasure- I tell you…
With the
golden beauty, silver like body and a diamond smile!
I wonder…how
this would be classified as trashy…
Nevertheless,
open eyes are those not in love,
As closed
eyes- are those in a dream of love and a vision of victory!
But tell me
something my infanta,
How then
did my rose disappear in your hands?
Was it a
shared emotional and mutual feeling in the royal palace?
Or…just an
end, to another untold page…?
One would wonder- One would ask without any
answers from the three!
Does not…it
make three enough- love, me and you?
One would
wonder- One would ask just waiting in vain for the answer!
But tell me…was
the rose you stole the supposed one?
If not…was
the supposed one there?
Why then
did you prefer the one you steal?
My infanta-
my infanta… shadow me with your beauty,
And
brighten my lonely bleeding heart!
Love for
thought- thought for love…
You stole
my rose!
END
Thank you so much...Swati!
ReplyDelete