I was in love,
with my fingers deep into feeling
as long as I was bestowed with
God’s blessings with tender trends

of swallowed tongues flexed
my heart sang with them always
in the smell of dream and words,
organs and lips sank into love.

Then I used red color
to see my love in my privacy
in the light of inner throbs
and caring my deep feeling

into the body of love ones,
then the incident occurred
everything got stuffed
and destructed, none there

to condole me what I have lost
in her turn to other world
deeper disdain I got
and the flame of burn

ate away my young mind.
I covered me with grief
mouth shut, lips dried
preparing the next attack.

Her eyes went away
with others in love
and I was abandoned
safe staying in my distress

as I was fixed in earth’s orb
to feel her love as lost song
in the darkest regions of love
for which I had so long in quest.

They all crossed me,
They all annoyed with me,
My phone calls were not attended,
My lost heart held me far away.

Down in the web searching
I placed my feeling along the nails,
bleeding moved down the love lance
and shivered in scattered dreams.

I felt nothingness,
I could not see the truth,
I could not dine and talk.
All were away from me.

A kiss, it lived in abysmal stir,
A wish, it lost its tempted brows,
love, it was heartbroken
in opening of a huge black hole.

Just a kiss, none to utter it,
just with lips, I was in damp pit,
she hesitated to offer it,
as I was symptom of lost amorous sequel.

She took me at the playground,
consenting to live on mercy of God,
and all four walls of love were rigid,
and could not produce livid openness.

And Now
I find myself in deep
forlorn black shine of lost love,
she goes out of my reach,
and corners me to the lost feeling.

Words are not pouring in abound,
now I feel like a sting of censured breathing,
no heat, no fire, no life, no enthusiasm,
not traveling with me overwhelming me.

Tears, only tears, are now with me,
ashes and dusts, bulldozed to make my way
for others who have the sense of love,
although warmth of love flames inside me.

Yet I do take my mind for love,
love is the expectation. Where is the world?
If I can touch nipples, I can suck it,
But for the long way, I live in lost pleasure.



To someone who is dear to me,
yet invisible to me.

O my mirror woman, you do not turn your face
in your video camera , and
do not try for its propagation on-line,
and I do not find you in my mirror,
and without you I feel like an unrelieved soul,
I perceive it, as if I am your abandoned love,
I cannot take it as my walk with love,
that might not happen with me,
when I arrive before my mirror,
I do not guard you, you are at liberty,
yet you do not come, and it is my deep sigh.

O my lady mirror, your sense of life gives me
a place in the heaven as a preceptor of love in tune,
and I want to ask you:

-“Have you shed tears
when you say someone ‘I love you’?”

And to stir the path of wave for love
in your beloved one, you place the amorous sea
of love in the foremost drive on the life pattern.
With applause, you behave like a dream turn
to be my mistress, you try it to do, but I cannot follow,
as your face reflection is absent on the screen,
and I cannot create any image of my beloved one,
the good feeling that this mirror gives me is amorous,
and I move into the world where love has been jumped
to the entire body and mind, like a jump of a horse
upon this moving whims of single doctrine and friend’s
charm, you’re walking on the ground with swept spreads,
and glow with openness, not in isolation living with.

It is my house, I have one woman,
always with me, not faded with time and testimony,
yet there is some greatness in the mighty thoughts
of my worship to praise woman beauty
on the pathway of a man’s desire and in its lonely scales
to measure the heaven, in the solemn silence to that beauty.
In this radiant search, you become one sense of openness and encompassing me in the otherness
and fullness of love that is divine
and working with symbol of love creation.

O my Mirror Lady Love,
you are so loving with my thinking since
you enter in my mirror, I like to honor your beauty,
eyes, nose, cheeks are like aspirations in dream love,
you come here to gratify my love with my wife,
but you stay in my mind, so embedded with decoration
of dawn of love, that you do like to tuck to your lips,
and I love you, and anointed it with notes you adore you most.

-“I am happy to see you.” you tell me once.

-“First tell me your name” I say.

-“ S-ishq”
-“How do you feel that happiness?” I say.

-“You are not mine; you have one bosom,
and one son living with you.
Yet, I feel free to talk with you on everything.”
She says.

-“Yes, you are one member in my family,
though you are not visible,
yet you are with me in words of love.”
I say.

-“Yes, I know that, and
I am living with my lonely prints of love,
but happiness happened not with me.”
She says.


-“When I like a man to be mine, to be my love,
who can confirm his all turns at me and greets my love,
I find he tries to scratch my body only,
and he does not honor my love, does not like my children,
they like to tear me up till my breasts can thrust to golden frogs.”
She says.

-“O yes, you are mother, and want love
from a man who is one hand a man of security,
and on other hand a guardian to save your
bearing s of your life as his own, the greatest
love at this stage, you like that.” I say.

-“But that is not happening, if I go for love
the man tries to convince me to love him only
and the children of his fathering,
and he does not like to take charge of my own children.”
She says.

-“Yes, it is a real problem.” I say.

-“May I agree with such a proposal?”
She replies.

-“The truth is that the man loves
the born child of his essence, not by others,
and in the question of love children other than his,
the divorce is inevitable.
But as a mother you cannot abandon your children.”
I say.

-“Yes, I feel that.” She says.

-“Have you not met a man to take charge
of your objects, in body, in mind, and in inheritance?”
I say.

-“Is that appearance of a man possible?” She replies.

-“I do not know.” I say.

-“No one can answer me, not even God.
I prayed to God, but all is in vain.” She says.

-“Then, why you pray to God?”

-“The cause is my cry, I pray to God for peace in mind,
Nothing more I do want from the almighty.”

-“I think there is no absolute truth. I think
there exists, sure, someone who has the knowledge,
who has essence of full meaning of the family,
who has perseverance to take charge of your fulfillment
as woman in the true sense of absoluteness.”
I say.

-“You are also hiding something.” She says

-“Me, do you say it to me?” I say.

-“You do not tell your name.”

-“ Hahaha………A-ishq.”
-“ A-ishq, I do not know, or never do I expect
to have or find or listen of any man like my dream man.”
She says.

-“Do I hurt you? Am I behave rude to you?”

-“No A-ishq, you are just listing to me.
I also feel comfort listening you,
I neither feel bored, nor annoyed,
You are not a stranger, yet a stranger to some extent.
I always see men are moving with corners,
and feel no brooks inside them,
they are busy all around, searching one after another.”
She says.

Only the word then comes to my mind,
and I say to her with bold typed script,

-“I love you, S-ishq”

There is silence,
no sign that she is typing.


I cannot eat,
as my son cannot eat anything,
he is young, now bed ridden,
he has a broken knee and fractured wrist
and cracked fingers, and his wife has
just injuries on her legs
and he saves his love essence
carrying a bid of polite grain,
both lying in a hospital,
and to save her life, he cannot take
his own protection, leaving the fate
of her on God’s hands, and he wants to save
the embryo that he is fathering,
and the accident occurred last day on his bike
with his pregnant wife,
and his bike just makes a head on collision
with a moving lorry on the high way.

He is my only son,
his wife is only my daughter in-law,
and thus the common incident haunts.
And I cry and cannot eat anything
as his face of his childhood comes
in my mind with the adverse fate,
he sustains with sighs and pain,
along the unforeseen dictum of heaven,
I think so and divine remembrance
and I cry, and my son makes me cool,
if the heaven gives that strength of life,
paranoid not I am, but I am paranoid,
decked in breathing custom,
as he looks around like a child,
my child, O my child, I cannot see
the helplessness that follows your life,
I cry, dear son, I cry, and you condole me,
and more I cry in profuse tears.

At your age of twenty seven,
you look like a child, looking around,
lying in your hospital bed,
and at the time of playing and jumping on the ground,
you are lying in bed, you are looking all around,
my child, O my child, I cannot see you,
and you are my life, but you are disabled,
I cannot mercy my God,
who has snatched away my child’s leg.


O my woman beauty,
you appear before me,
and write on my wall,

-“I read your poems,
and it seems you are in love
in defining love.
With your poems I feel confidence,
as if I am composing
love poems of my own.”

Her image flickers in my mirror.
My eyes get a flash of the bright dawn,
and I look behind, none is there.
Again I turn my eyes to see image of mine
I cannot see my face, but it is her, how?
Perhaps the lonely woman sneaks my house
before I can realize her presence through doors.
I am not sleeping, I am not dreaming,
only touching the mirror of my glass screen embodied.
She appears again in the mirror,
in moods of wondering, and says:

-“I live thousand miles away,
my body is there, my soul is here,
I reach here through your poems.”

I feel she is my queen, not my critic,
humors in her eyes. Then I say:

-“I cannot pay you remuneration, O my dear lady,
I cannot bring you physically from that distant country.
Please stay in my mirror till I am alive.
Your beauty matters to me
on making novelty of rhymes
for love, and in its gleaming vision,
I feel your breathing that travels
into my mind till I can finish writing a poem.”

She then moves like lovers spring,
in my rippling heart, and lastly I say to her:

-“You are my poetic discourse,
attire of manners, and in the gross
utterance with words I build a region
of insights of love, and I pray thee,
please remain beautiful to inspire me to feel love
to take me in the love universe and beauty of love design.”

These are words in the legends of my love to her.


Your face is a grandeur blush of beauty,
as if lovely glory of the earth blooming in your treaty,
giving eyes, lips, cheeks, eyebrows, forehead
divine and feminine; and a pleasure of
my heart lies scent-full and alive
in the gladness of your primal soothing beauty,
and radiance in your eyes fills me with color,
poetic rhymes, utterance of immensity of divinity,
as if it is to first recite hymn on woman’s countenance,
with shining euphony flashes in your inward eyes,
and there inhabits love in the signing serene of your breathing.


O my red rose, Blessings of heaven, Amused in youthful blooms, Unfathomable allowance of splendor, Standing in search of Muses of love, Silent with signing of angelic turn, In virtue of poetic wings of spontaneity, Singled out in standing pretty posture, Passing through sequence of testimony, Seeds and plants, A decisive founding, Mellowing in insurance of love devoting, Plenty of perception of the spring, You are spreading immortal beauty. Like a red rose, You are calm in your youth, In the properties of time and space. You have an earnest looking, in affections, Towards praise of sovereign sonnets, With your face meddling in regional turning, Blessed with unknown prayers you are seeking, With eyes staring to the space, filled with the light, You are only the source of source-love, Just attempting to walk on into the sky, In the liberation of loveliness. You are standing as Goddess of love, In the close connectivity Of inner proclamation of your beauty, Quiet, evergreen, immortal with your temple heart. Your tallness stands into glorious silence of love, With your long glossy soft hair combed, Flowing down on your back, Like a fountain of kindliness, With hands slinging, palms tucked in front pockets of your jeans pant. You are the gracious woman, A combination of your tall height, Beauty and an essence of divinity.


Just glance at pain;
Tears melt down in vain;
Solutions vague nerves strain;
Just chant Sri RadhaKrishna’s name;
Calmness prevails and pain drains;
Silence of contentment remains;
Pray every moment for life will never come again.
Editor of Radha Krishna Spiritual Portal

I remember one day
my unknown woman came in my chat box,
when I was writing a poem on love
and post it on my wall,
and directly charged me, saying,
“First define me what love is.”

-“I cannot define,
Why are you hitting me?
I just try to write them,
I am also searching what love is, and
how love engulfs me .”
I say.

-“I am not hitting you,
I want to learn from you,
and you are writing about it.”
She says.

-“I can only say–
love is like an essence of feeling
between the earth and the water,
it is soft being and sacrifice feeling,
lovely like rose, like moonlight decor,
soft, it enters silently in mind, and
comes in many shades of all colors
in the loving zone of fulfillment,
and for love between man and woman,
I think it is like what that is established
in the spirit of love of Shri RadhaKrishna.”
I say.

-“I hear of Shri RadhaKrishna,
I know Hindus do worship them,
and that is all I can say. I am moving
with a mind to seek love to feel its bliss.”
She says.

“In the internet arena, you will find
many love portals, but I think you can
hardly touch the love or feel the love,
as love comes when you capture
the novelty of mind of a man you desire,
and the man, in seeing you, feels the urge
to know you and to relate you in noble
worthier of his love, adored in syllables
of earth’s belonging to the water, plants,
speeches, transcendent breathing, and
finally to feel the line of conformation, “YES”
in your love, and you can feel it, when
both of you perform the sacrifice for love,
in the deliverance of cares, walks,
without misery of faith.
And knowledge of the hope and
sanctified form evolves in the love
you are seeking for so long,
and it will be highest bliss of God’s creation.”
I say.

-“My friend, all histories are not blending
with raptures of love, many people are there
who feel the love as their pathetic receipts,
and the earth is heavily sighed with these souls,
and you will find many inconsistencies
in the war of love, then separation and perseverance
that we are leading to the world of love.
And by this way you will see many
love portals in the human arena with some
human endurance. And thus we live here.”
She says.

“My dear lady friend, I can only say,
I am also searching love since childhood,
only I find the mother’s childhood caring
is the best time in life of one human being,
and thence we travel in quest of love,
and everything stands as uncertain enchants.
The man finds his childhood, and the woman her teens
and we love both the periods in our life cycles.”
I say.

Then only the words I find, “Hmm………”
And she signs off the internet.