A Secret Carved in Stone

Circa 500 BC.
It was his secret.
She was his secret,
That, in his heart, he hid.

He’d spend the mornings
Gazing at the skies
All the time, imagining
Her in the clouds passing by.

At night, he’d look for her
In the twinkling stars.
They were like her eyes
That beckoned him from afar.

At times, he sat by the river
And, in the sand, drew her silhouette –
The curves that defined her,
Her rose-petal like lips,

Her slender neck,
And her voluptuous body.
Yes, he was addicted
To someone imaginary.

Then, one day, he wished.
Wished she was alive.
So, with a stone and chisel,
He started bringing her to life.

He toiled for days
In a secluded place.
Creating her delicate features,
He etched her beauty and grace.

And it was his secret for life.
She was his secret.
He hid her from all the prying eyes
And never let anyone in on it.

The year is 2025 AD.
The archeologist was excited.
His team had just unearthed
A stone statue at the digging site.

A beauty beyond compare,
Carved with exquisite detail
From the strands of her hair
To her feet adorned with anklets.

With all the dirt cleaned,
She looked radiant.
It was his greatest finding –
A feminine form in stone so brilliant.

Soon, she was in a glass display
In the “Civilization” section
In the Museum of Art and History
Labeled “Goddess in Stone – Ancient.”

A Love Story

Theirs was a match made in Heaven
… And on Earth.
Her effervescence
Perfectly complemented his calmness.

Love was but natural,
As deep as the still waters of a lake in the morning.
It was more than just physical.
It existed in everything.

She loved flowers.
He loved watching her braid them in her hair.
He loved his morning coffee and newspaper.
She loved hearing his views on making the world better.

She’d laugh like a gurgling river.
He loved it when she did.
He’d hum songs from the yesteryears.
She loved it when he did.

Even their moments of disagreement
Deepened their affection,
Like a special condiment
That added a flavor to their connection.

They were the kind of lovers
Who actually lived their wedding vows.
Each year saw them together.
Each year saw their love grow.

But, then, there came a wretched phase
When an ill wind did blow.
It took her away in its grasp
Leaving him pining and alone.

Now, in the autumn of his life,
He yearns to be by her side.
At times, a tear rolls down his eyes
As he searches for her footprints in the void.

The Language of Love

Golden sunflowers
Turn toward the skies at dawn.
If this isn’t love, what is?

Raindrops from clouds
Kiss the earth as they fall down.
If this isn’t love, what is?

White-crested oceans
Embrace rivers with open arms.
If this isn’t love, what is?

Silent Summer zephyrs
Carry with them sweet birdsongs.
If this isn’t love, what is?

Leaves in Autumn
Relinquish their space to new ones.
If this isn’t love, what is?

Silvery moonbeams
Shine their light on everything.
If this isn’t love, what is?

It would seem that love
Converses not in sentences or words.

It is the language of the heart and soul,
And to be fluent, one only needs to love in return.

The Field of Fireflies

Being with you is like
Running through a field of fireflies
Under the purple skies of twilight.

Tiny flashes, in the air, rise
Creating a show of sparkly designs
Like the stars shining in your eyes.

Glows pulse through the night
Relaying messages in a code divine
As you hold my hand and smile.

That moment etches in my mind,
And in that moment, I realize
I’m the night and you, my firefly.

Forever together, our fates entwine
As we make memories of love and light
In the shimmering field of fireflies.

Symphony of the Stars

Darkness falls.
And everywhere, creatures of the day
Settle down to sleep in their beds.

And yet, Night calls.
The cloudy grey curtains, She parts,
To present the symphony of the stars.

The heart falls
As love rises to a melodious crescendo
Orchestrated by each twinkle and glow.

And, the sky calls.
It beckons and tugs every moving thing
To dance with the starlight and sing.

The song falls
On the ears of those who seek to listen,
Its tunes woven into dreams that glisten.

My soul calls.
It replies in affirmation to the invite,
Revelling in the symphony of stars at night.

Perchance

She was ninety-six; he was sixteen.
Her days were ending: his were beginning.
She was a dreamer; he was called a geek-
Poles so apart they could never meet.

All that changed the day before the party.
Rumors were that he madly adored Betty,
A pretty girl who lived on the same street.
But scared, he was, to confess his feelings.

And so his ninety-six year old granny
Found him sighing, sulking, and lonely.
“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” She asked wisely.
“Yeah!” He said and told her his story.

“Well”, She said. “When will you do it?
Ask her if she’ll go with you. Why wait?”
Mortified he was as he exclaimed loudly,
“What if I do, and she doesn’t agree?”

His granny sat near him and said softly,
“What if you ask her, and she agrees?
Of that, there’s an equal possibility.
You should ask her, if you ask me!”

And she spoke something of regretting,
In the end, the missed opportunity.
But he had heard all that was needed.
And all the way to Betty’s house ran he.

He asked, and she agreed promptly.
And off to the dance, they went happily.
So my friends, truth be told truthfully,
A chance not taken is one lost, definitely!

Chinese Whispers

Ah! The vagaries of youth –
A game of Chinese Whispers, too
Is a chance to profess, “I love you.”
Or, could it be too good to be true?

His plan was to say the words,
Whisper them in the ear of another,
And for that one to whisper to another,
Till it reached the ears of his love.

He: “I love you so much, it hurts.”
Friend 1:”I shoved you, so does it hurt.”
Friend 2: I shopped for you a red skirt.”
She: I should have you got a shirt.”

O Cupid! Your arrow strayed again!
The message was lost in the game!
What transpired of him and his secret?
Like the game, we’ll never really know it.

The Spice of Life

Spices-there are so many
That make life worth living,
From happiness like sugar
To anger that’s bittersour.

But there’s a special spice
That makes all things nice.
It is the secret ingredient
That tops other condiments.

This spice grows in hearts.
When sprinkled, it imparts
A flavor that’s everlasting
With a freshness like Spring.

It has many superpowers.
It creates, unites, and cures.
But there’s also a caution –
To use it in apt proportions.

This spice is the only one
That makes us all human.
It’s a covenant from Above.
This spice of life is – Love.

Love, Naturally

Would I be wrong if I say
Nature’s nature is to nurture?

The mountains that, in the sky, tower,
In their strength, resemble my father.

And the oceans with their waves
Soothe just like my mother’s lullabies.

But what about that emotion called love?
Was that overlooked by Nature?

The answer to that is “no,” my friends.
For love, she has a special expression.

On all her creations, her love she showers
With the beauteous, colorful flowers.

With shades of red, the winter’s roses
Boldly announce their passionate love

In the meadows, the spotless white lilies
Promise commitment and purity.

And the sky blue forget-me-nots
Speak of everlasting fidilelity and respect.

While the multi-hued carnations
Show their affection and admiration.

Of other blossoms, there are a multitude
That express their love so true.

Each with their own vocabulary,
Convey their feelings eloquently.

So, whenever you see these bloom
It’s Nature proclaiming, “I love you.”

The Hues of Love

Love’s first hue is Harmony.
Just like the colors
Of the sky’s palette in the evening
Or a bouquet of flowers
Create a vision so appealing.

Love’s second hue is Acceptance.
Just like the colors
Of a rainbow arching in the Heavens
Or the butterflies in the bowers
Come together in perfect balance.

Love’s third hue is Sacrifice.
Just like the colors
Of Fall give way to Winter’s white
Or when the Moon’s silver shimmers
Come alive after the Sun sets at night.

Love’s fourth hue is Purity.
Just like the colors
Of the Lily of the Valley
Or the blue firmament in summers
Stay spotless in their eternal beauty.

Love’s fifth hue is Love itself.
Just like the colors
Of the blood that pulses in veins
Or the ink in the quills of lovers
Run deeper than the ocean currents

My Mother’s Heart

There’s a place that has no boundaries,
Where love blooms in eternal Spring,
Where my infinite wishes are fulfilled,
And I can see the sweetest dreams,

Where the grass is soft as I walk,
And there are no hard stones or rocks,
Where I can share my deepest secrets,
And listen to lullabies when I rest,

Where the voice of wisdom speaks to me,
And the air has the fragrance of divinity,
Where a superforce gives me protection,
And I can seek and find expression.

This place is where I was moulded.
It is the bedrock of my existence.
It is where I can always get a start,
This place is in my mother’s heart.

Love Lost and Never Found

Love..sprouting like a seed planted in the fresh moist earth,
Unsure of the world around it, drawn towards the sunlight.
Reaching deep within with roots, leaf upon leaf unfurl,
Growing, growing and growing in the showers of desire.

Blooming with fragrant deep red petals like soft velvet,
Blossoming in the neverending, eternal, etheral Springtime,
Yearning every second, every minute, every hour, every day,
Longing to be known, acknowledged, realized and alive.

But what’s this? There’s something new and undiscovered
Sharp, dry, prickly, they can cut and draw blood outside.
Thorns… yes thorns of Ego, hidden among the red buds.
Hurtful thorns…with the passing moments, they too thrive.

Unrestrained, they grow faster, weaving a net of bramble,
Piercing through all, even the petals, not heeding to their cries.
Till all that’s left is a woody, dry underbrush that’s dead
With buried memories of a love that was lost…and happy times.