A Dead Poet by May !!

I have walked enough
on meadows decorated with pebbles,
and I have relished
the grass- wet and supple.
I have seen enough
that could stir me to write
I have felt a world
of senses
that sees nothing but fight-
a fight of actions with
words sawn off a shotgun
words blunt, words beautiful
words, that satiated my anxieties
as a lively cover-up tool
words that spilled my brains
and hearts onto roads
words that lied my pains
and fired blood in my goads.
They styled my voice
till I stood the test of time
now that I falter
its all a matter of shame
It 's something I dare not say
But I think
I am a dead poet by May !!

The girl, the angel,
the salt of my poems
ready to fly off, ready to swell
fanning my dreams to flames.
She had weaved magic in my heart,
spurred ruckus in my head
she has shaped my art
and words to my lines fed.
I wish she lives her best
- lives the charm of my words
I wish she conquers every test
and holds all her cards.
Wish she finds a man
to show her a better world;
a world beyond a web of words,
a world beyond paper-borne festivities.
I wish she finds the carnival
brimming with joy -
and mirth of pursuit
The man be me
and feet her own
but while she prepares for the noon
I fear
I would fade off soon
for my words would have
nothing to decorate-nothing to say
And I think
I am a dead poet by May !!

I fear I will fail to see
the symbols all around
I think I will struggle to read
the lines that
once an aria sound
I fear the leaves shall wilt
but for want of fresh water
and light to help them breathe
I fear the light shall distance
enough to be able to smother
and rob it of her fragrance.
I fear the soil shall dry,
and in case not
- the roots get weak
enough to pull the water beneath;
I fear I will lose the zeal
to ever attempt, draw
the sword from its sheathe;
I fear if any beauty
in any form,
will ever water my senses;
I pity
I would otherwise have to say
I am a dead poet by May !!

Wonder if it's called LOVE

I speak to myself,
immersed in your thoughts-
we discuss a thousand things,
we call upon a myriad shots.
He sleeps by your side.
He walks by you;
He loses track of time-shuns my pride.
I ask why ?
'cause I ain't got a clue.

He longs to meet you,
By your side-deep into an ocean
of vivid dreams-
He gets lost, yet gallops
with unbound joy on a timeless lane;
laughs, sobs, exudes pure madness,
dying to hear your voice,
relish your presence, relish your smile.
I pity, poor master,
he ain't got no choice.

He sees you in the weirdest things;
A rose is fine, but a burst of a cracker!
Stars and candlelights okay, but the glow of a bulb!
hazy etchings on a splendid moon,
smoke, ethanol and split waves,
slick stuff called gifts and hot babes.
He wishes strange things;
A passionate kiss, a sensuous touch
that could dope him a month
Believes in every other-than-natural force
Reckon he's drowning
God, please guide him to the shores.

Contemplating mysterious thoughts
He is lost in his own musings
Roaming restless across a labyrinth
sullied with emotional spills.
I debate him for logic,
but he's blind- got hardly any
and I guess he is falling sick.
I could mock, kick his butt
but he got no save
Its evident, the trapdoor's shut
and I stand helpless,
analogous to a chained slave.

I love him for the pleasures
I loathe him for the pains
My psyche's out of shape
and thoughts bounce for miles
Eyes transcend beyond vision
and I hear songs in silence.
Jump with glee-still on a chair
yet nothing I sense-
I am amused, intoxicated
and it feels like
romance is in the air !!
All for you-
and I just hope
He understand what I am going through.

The world for him seems changed,
Revolving around a point
called 'YOU',
An inexplicable phenomenon it stands,
every element of it addicts,
the insanity, the giving
the joy and the agony
ought to be savored whist it stays
or lest it wilts.
I wonder what you name this madness
I wonder if it's called 'LOVE'.