LOVE BETWEEN TWO SISTERS

Two sisters live in a family,
one thousand miles away at a place
of historical land of Harappa,
a grand old house of civilization.

Two sisters are beautiful,
each one has a tender face and black hair.
They have radiant galore in the mists of eyes,
they have visions in searching souls
with love spectrum and rolling sprinkle of features.
One sister is an art creator,
other one is an economic mystic angel.
Both are weird with moral vent
to love and let us love in a friendship frames,
and in its design, they are rising in solemn beauty.

The youthful painter once appears
on my computer screen, and tells,
“My sister tells me about you.”

-“Yes, I love art and your art creation,
I write poetry and want to recognize
your colored canvas, you have painted
your works with maturity
with your master strokes of colored jewels.
I have told that to your sister.”
I say.
-“Yes, I am an artist, I love my sister,
she is my friend and in this world
I am her friend, and year after year
we live in this family and in this house.
She is always joyful and enjoys deeply
as my marriage is coming near.
I am a painter to establish
what beauty has its gain in worldly creation
and devotion.” she says.

“Good, your sister is an angel,
both of you are most junior to me
but you all have some sense of dream
that reminds my youthful days
to fill humor and wits in all produces.”
I say.

-“Yes, she is my pretty applauded
and prudent sister,
with a good sense to praise all
that she finds on this earth and above in the sky,
and here we stay as one ring of honesty and love,
so I love her, and she loves me, too.
and I will miss her when I go out in my in-law’s house.”

-“Good, I find one family here on this earth,
and this family is bounded by parents
and all children are living in confirmed content
and good reign of tenderness of parents.
I am proud of your parents
who are sublime to all controls
with jingled bells and freedom on the same deck.
So you live together so many years
in love and in a family bondage
that gives you all happiness and courage.” I say.

There is a silence on her side,
I am waiting and waiting….
“What are you thinking of?” I say

-“There is a white canvas before me,
I have to paint it, I have to create
my imagination on it, I am thinking that.”
she says.

-“Yes, you are free; please take your time.”
I say.

-“Good, I admire you, respected Sir.”
she says.

O my creative woman,
with bliss your life is in full bloom,
you are going to be married
your husband will be proud of your joyous mind,
and your perception is still in power of creation
that God has given you,
and you have your own presence on this earth
and you are bonded in your present glory
of love and life where you will walk in romance
on your husband’s romantic pray.

We are only workers of this law,
we are only union of this dream,
we are only flowing with our home,
we are dreaming of our beloved ones,
thus you both sisters live as friends in a family with love.

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MY YOUNG WOMAN HAS NO BOY FRIEND

When you come to my computer screen,
I feel a deep regard as you are younger and innocent,
as your eyes are telling me as I feel me,
radiant and your eyes tell me more
you like to know the earth,
you like to move on alleviated or sloping curves of the earth,
you like to talk with everyone,
you like to live with family boundary,
you like to sit on a new chair to be praised,
you like to discuss on many unknown things,
you like to move with spinning of winds,
you like to minister love curiosity,
you like to have a soft corner in your mind,
with an open mind, with no hiding tendency,
it seems to me you are running on a fertile meadow
where no male footsteps touch the ground,
where cultivation is at towering heights.

Here is one circular stair for everyone
and everyone has to go up and down there every time.
In summer the stairs get hot and dusty,
and in rainy days, the stairs get wet.

Dear younger woman,
on these stairs you have to go up and down with fragrance,
you have to make your memories fairy and fine,
you have to choose your own roses,
you have to make your own delicate proses,
you have to choose your sweet odor to smell in heart,
and she hears it patiently and says, “This first time,
I feel comfort in chatting with a so much senior person.”
-“Yes Madam, you have a mind, and I am your Sir.”

She prefers to wear soft cotton and silk dresses,
she wears flat sleepers with matching color
with pink head-scurf, she wears gold earring
and Kashmiri shawls, that makes her beautiful,
and face turns pink with moisture lips, radiant cheeks,
as if she is dressed up by your parents to see you
as homily bride as they are travelling for wedding spree.

I then discover you,
you come on my computer screen, saying “Hi”,
I find you as one beauty in the earth’s garden
under vast starry sky and it is in my dreams.

-“Hi, what are you doing now?” I say,

-“I have finished my university education and B.Ed.
Now I stay with my parents and other relatives.”

-“Do you not willing to get job?” I say,

-“No, I do not like job.”

-“Then how do you pass your time?” I say

-“I have a passion of reading, travelling,
I do all the domestic work, gardening, stitching,
and I love playing with kids of my brothers.”

-“Good, it is. Family bondage is great bondage,
It keeps everyone happy and cheers.” I say,

-“Yes, I think likewise.”

-“May I ask one question?” I say,

-“Yes, sure, Sir”

-“Have you a boy friend?
If you have reservations, I do not ask it.”

There is a great silence on her side
as if the rhyme turns into a sage,
after a while the answer comes in words,

-“God has not given me this chance till now.”

Immediately I think her as a rose, a lotus, or a jasmine
that just blooms in the earth’s garden
and she is now a new composure of love,
as if she is a love-in-making season with a mist,
O my younger woman, you are blonde,
you have un-scaled beauty
that sway in the wind with love seeds inside,
your girlish cheeks galore like rose,
you have a pair of eyes gifted in beauty marvel,
you have something precious gifted by God,
your eyes are cool with icy feeling
and no rust can catch your gifted beauty,
and no dust can cover your outer skin,
and with romance you can move, and you can feel it.

I am your great observer, soft like un-faded silk,
Please lend me your hands so that I can kiss them
to honor your beauty, O my younger woman.

O MY DAMSEL LOVE, DO NOT LEAVE ME ALONE

O my damsel love, how I communicate you?
O my damsel love, why you leave me alone?
I cannot make one sentence or share mind with you,
I cannot make an approach to love for you,
I cannot transfer love into love with you
O my damsel love, please return to me for hours at least
I cannot feel well since you leave me in dark
I do not have e-mail address as I forget to save it
O my damsel love, where you now glowing like star
O my damsel love, I feel guilty of loosing you
O my damsel love, I am bereft of sense and wit
and I am getting killed moment after moment
and self-proclaimed galactic impulse is not my motto,
but to love, and people around me take questions
about me, because I am alone, and cannot praise some one
like you who live in me still with love bestowed.
From distance do not keep me watch pinning me,
and be prominent in my computer screen
with your smiles, with your cheeks blazed
in the light of cathode ray emblazoned, and
without you I cannot make reputation in LCD glasses
and come to me like an ambassador of love
O my lady-love, some patience I do have now,
as I am the head of love, yet I am losing patience,
and I want to love you ,as a common man,
as you feel common in love and wits,
your benign tall figure cut me into pieces
as I cannot find you on my e-mail address in-box,
and the picture-less-atom gives me solitude,
I am stout; and I can hold your head
to bend your lips upon my lips to have kisses ,
the truth is that you are still mistress of my love
thence comes great peace if you go with me.
What the purpose you like to have with me to steal the show.
You are my transparent soul that lives in my soul,
like liquid roll over the stream over the over arteries,
as if it is common in sense, and web score to look through,
so long I stare only at you for flowed dream,
besides which you live like a damsel beauty, in mind
drop by drop you mingle in my mind, like deep themes
that come over my life and lovable one that you wish
beneath the estate the landlord of love to live with you.

O my damsel love, you are still in my love.

WE ARE DIVIDED TWO

When he goes for fasting to protest molestation
the ruling echelons meet for dinner party outside the grand houses,
and they united declares that fasting is a tired process
and it is a depressed way to arrive at conclusions,
and they are whole to rule the world, as the menace of ills
are everywhere in the core of formation, beyond repairs.

When he decides to go for fasting in protest against ethical bankruptcy
and he wants to uplift the common tiny slices of niceties of our lords,
there begins thunder, “We are given the power for ruling the world,
we do no wrong in acting and dictating what we prefer to order.
Dear fellow commons, eat what we give to you, do not look at us.”
He alone hears the jumbled meaning of the chorus, and the world,
he thinks, is sinking into deep-sea of sorrow for the commons
who are so innocent that they always think kings are kings, heavenly rulers, and the traffic light goes to the corner of the place
where he thinks to be a best place to hold the fasting protests,
in non-violent way to protect common’s pockets not be robbed.

Seeing so many red traffic lights in the corner of the world city,
people try to understand what the events are there in the corner,
lethargic support does fill the air as protesting people are numbered
in the vast population to find the real rotten potato inside,
the patrons of the protest cannot keep door open for
accommodating their own booth of clean office and terms of ruling;
neither they can enter the door of the grand dinner held outside the houses where men in chairs do ordain that there is no second act
here, declaring, “We are the first act, we are the first get benefit of it.
we cannot empty all resources of the state to the public, there is secrets for save of the state, we are the guardian of all resources, obey us, we will keep in peace and in scantiness.” There is shouting, there is wild running in the corner as some uniformed men get involved to get the trash in the corner outside this hemisphere, let all things judge on the floor of the house.

We are two, our aims are two, there is no bridge, and there is no concord,
patience, endurance, confusion and truth are one of us, and others have the houses to give birth one chaos of language to get all favored means.

LOVE IN THE RAINING HISTORY

It is raining, from morning to night-time,
we walk hand in hand in the history of raining,
the large meadow is full of waters, white is its contour,
and we wade through water-logged path with eyes
wandering through cloudy sky dark as night,
it carries water droplets in huge bargaining mood
where the air can carry them, the forest can kiss them,
then they will come down heavily for life and making
figures of expectancy in the womb of love, and inside
the hollow navigating atmosphere, the sky comes in
their lives in confirmation of sacrifice and breathing.

It is raining, night to morning,
we are walking in the realm of wonderful pictures
in the waters of the inhabitants’ marginal annals
that are always sway in the hands of love and skimming
the surface and longing over the wet organs
passing through a massive post over countries
where the passage of raining is plotted in the friendship
and one’s angry face turns to the another hungry return,
thence we dwell in the raining over raining of unknown mating,
everyone here feels the loneliness in the owner’s paradise.

Oh! Water, water everywhere, rain water,
we cannot left behind our foot prints, as water erases prints
more quickly than we step forward, and in the trekking
we are the pictures on the sky’s frolicsome avatar
that is designed to form a crystal of love into the practical score
of living zone of history of raining,
it is the life drug filtering underneath,
and we stay here, more practical to the living swear in rain,
plants become greener to play with nature,
as if we are noting down more pictorial age of inhabitants,
and we are habituated to learn, to exercise the doctrine of raining.

When we return to the earth after rain water recedes,
we found questions over the history of human being
to explore the space beneath of beautiful life residuals and truth.

MY MISTRESS IN DISTRESS

How you suffer now, I can feel,
how you go alone with your children, I know,
their demands you have to meet,
their lovely mind lets you engaged within,
sweet motherhood you have to obey shrine,
the little money you have with spent on their demands,
and now you have no money to pay for internet
on which you have love one who waits for you for long,
and in it you feel comfortable, O my distant love woman.

Single you are, thus you live, and thus you suffer,
you are walking on dusty road, that makes you lose
wayside secrets and beauty, thus you live, and
on the forehead you have a white spare apron
that dangles as you move, leaving behind
your sense of love, letting your beloved one trudge
in searching you, you know it, but cannot respond,
limitations are now your companion,
that you do not want, your parenthood is thus looked up
where you move like queen, with withered sorrow,
mating is far away, yet you make home for your children,
I admire you, heaven lives with you, I pray to God.

Thousand miles away, we are friends, you and me.

LOVE AND ACCOUNTABILITY

For you, on thinking on whom I feel honor
to have love and full line of beauty she holds
in her spirit and mind, there lies accountability
on love’s treasure and dream, I feel no lie,
you then told me you do not hurt me
whatever you are in your disgraced strife,
I learn to mend me in the line sense and light
that hold the true requirements
and inquiry to make our love divine shine.
Love has some accountability always in mind.

You might hover in some sorrows I do not trace,
the conductance in its ever grown life and beginnings
of meeting the sun over above-board of the line of
tranquility, being living in thousand kilometers
hard toil, hard-earned money you have to live with
and thence I have to work for some sorrow of purity
that makes you wait long in the transition and tranquility,
I know your necessity, that you need to protect your side,
I honor you for your brave way that you find as free glittering
on the sea-shore we once intend to walk hand in hand.

Once we want delicate talking,
once we want leisurely feeling,
in between lies one responsibility
that I call accountability on loved living.