Lover’s Eyes

Smoke rising from the earthen stove,

Rising sky high, she blew air to the woods,

That came from her delicate lips, her eyes,

Irked yet with a smile she lit the first fire,

The smell of smoke, getting into nostrils,

Mine woke me, yet I slept like a child,

My ears alert to her morning actions,

Following the sounds of her silver anklet,

Even on my bed, I saw her divine beauty,

Loosening all the ducks and hens of coop,

As they quacked their way out in joy,

My sleep little disturbed, but wasn’t I!

She with a smile, lifting the copper,

Pot moving like a swan, with her Alta,

Covered feet, walking to the pond with,

Grace, time when the world slept,

Still dark outside, of early dawn mist,

Enjoys her aloof bath, all sensuous and,

Wet! Her red bordered white sari,

Adorning tight to her skin, she quivers,

With the weight of her youth, leaving,

Behind the trail of her wet marks on,

The Ghats, she comes home holding,

The pot unto her waist, bunch of hibiscus,

In her fist, she offers to the Deity on way,

Waking all the gods, she wakes me with,

The sprinkle of water, her wet tresses hold,

Awake to my senses I waited every day,

For her to see her in wet sari, she was my,

Muse, my goddess we hold no ties,

Of man woman relationship, she agreed,

Upon this and I, and had lived and lived,

Long enough together, but people saw her,

With loathe, she wasn’t bothered!

I never gave her vermillion, neither name,

A poet’s heart I only wrote and wrote,

Poetry myriad on her, Alas! Not my part,

Anymore, yet with wrinkled hands I,

Hold the pen, still with those lover’s eyes,

I am writing poetry, aloof, alone in here,

The world despised our love, our bond,

No one understood ever was her lover I!

And she was all mine!

She was all mine…..

*Monalisa Joshi*


2 thoughts on “Lover’s Eyes

  1. Lover’s eyes are truly astute in observing every bit of beauty; and I see a bit of concrete poetry in the visual swerving pattern of words like the elegant walk of woman with the pot.

    Critic suggestion: Sentences are bit garbled as if writer wants to express too many things like a live commentary. But, its a poetry where we express less and hide more, leaving the mystery to the reader.

    1. thank you Mr. Gandhi once again for your nice observations of the element in my poetry. About the garbled part I would say while writing I was imagining it ..the beauty of a woman and how a man who is deeply in love with her would express in through poetry. The thought came so vividly in my mind and I just kept writing … 🙂

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