Those spicy dreams dangle. A thirsty summer river
Smoldering for months gets back to life, there’s an age-old famine
Just a cold touch is relishing for the soul
Here around me a fence, your intimacy of turquoise fur
That’s amazingly sumptuous, what else could be sought again?
That old familiar song I hear on the top floor next to mine
It’s so hallucinogenic like mild kisses of the spring winds
Even it’s more like a few strokes from your fatty lips
I am hanging out on the verge of a deceptive evening
The wall clock above stops to take a glimpse of us
Night becomes a late drowsy winter afternoon; pregnant and lazy
All the panicked pain departs in haste, a sky of bliss spreads
Only the fury of restless ecstasy of an entombed history whines
The tide on the shore of our past lies prostrate, cool
My muscles twirl, a utopian octopus shies away
I am arrested and captivated like a moth or metaphor.
This terribly dry land now goes wild again
A fire mishap in between us gutters the monochromatic sorrows
And a hurricane from the North Pole
You ceaselessly gnash your blood-stained teeth till mid-night.
Sweet Carols of Christmas
Silver crease around the eyes, your words are smooth like rose petals
The freshest spring descends surreptitiously as you yawn
We walked tirelessly hand in hand those years
Thinking to sweeten the conjugation of our chemistry
The upbeat presence of my divorced intimacy
Clung to your ripe innocence, I had no option left with
I said goodbye to the diluted seasons
A mendicant in me was unsure of leaving everything in between us.
Now, whom can I trust? I bank on yet a deceptive camaraderie
The oppressive touches of a heinous past
Just a few flicks of our remembrance from the pages of history tickle me.
I unlocked your tightly-clasped knots, a potpourri of fluorescent vivacity
Rhythms of a luscious heart
The most admired artistic audacity that I loved
Where did we begin our journey from? I don’t remember
That’s been so antique now, but it was an evening of Christmas carols
At the doorpost of your duplex a sedative concoction
Swaddled with charming bougainvillea
Often I feel approaching you over again and rush where you lay peacefully!!
Pitambar Naik was born and raised in Odisha in India. He is an advertising copywriter based in Hyderabad and writes poetry and non-fiction in English. He has been featured in journals such as Brown Critique, Spark Magazine, CLRI, Indian Review, Indian Ruminations, Galaxy-IMRJ, UK, Hunter Poems, UK, Muse India, HEArt Online, Fair Folk-A Magazine of Fantastic, Tuck Magazine in the USA, Indian Periodical, Hans India, The New Indian Express, Metaphor in the Philippines, and Bhashabandhan Review in the USA and elsewhere. Some of his poems are due to be featured in the Kitab, Singapore and Prachya Review in Bangladesh. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org