Random Ramblings

              She needs him                like the flute needs air               the right amount                 to flow between               lips pressed                in anticipation of music.               In that music               she will find her childhood               lost virginity               to a man she can’t stand               words of a song               she used to sing               to a lover               she doesn't love a...

The unbridled fount of passion, (someone called it deep) dried out too soon. Love, like a gypsy’s guise enchants before disappearing. Yet, real men should dream again and real women love unconditionally There is no place for cowards in that ocean of happiness: a dreamland numb to the ruins of time. ~Proma

I want your eyes to warm up to my tender glance and lips to return the favor of a chance. I want your hands to feel the hardworking hands of mine vein by vein pulse by pulse beat by beat. When my body energy learns to swim to the flow of yours. When my fears disappear  to your loving touch-  When my world moves at your pace my bends fit into yours Simplifying - a complicated maze. When my every pause is met with another begin, no journey ever ends in that perfect place. -Proma Ray

Like a rose without water I will age deep vermillion and scentless. Your love I will keep like white envelopes from the past unopened under my sandal-scented bed. It is not memories that the mention of your name reminds. But a whole universe that I sometimes see when I sit and watch snow melt outside my window. Two drops of jasmine oil and two words later I remind myself this is only a poem and you distant, like a faraway place I want to visit. And say goodbye once again.

It has been twenty years since you left. Twenty years that I have not seen you. Honest to God, I don’t completely remember your face now. Only that smile, those hazel eyes, and your green striped shirt that later, someone stole from your clothesline on a summer afternoon. That summer remember, we stole mangoes from whichever garden we could, and attempted to cook chutney. And the aftermath – burnt coils of the electric heater and a blackened saucepan. I wonder why even after all these years, a gentle sprinkle of your memories, unleashes a strong flow of emotions that occupy those corners of my mind that normally don’t exist in my everyday life. I don’t like it. I don’t like that you come so close to me but only in a dream. I can neither touch you nor make you go away. You tease me like a freshly popped champagne bottle spilling out froth. That froth that burns my fingertips, but never wets them enough. And slowly, precipitates away into nothing. You are not “nothing” in my life. Y...