Ode to Her

ODE TO HER

You come in your own form to me,

Nudge and play with my senses;

Stand close, like a bee

Fully pressed on its favourite incenses.

You always lend me your warmness; and then

Strike, scratch, rub, kiss-

And I feel drunken

With earthly spirits? Or heavenly bliss?

Pretty as you are you gleam beside me

You turn me head on, I change noticeably.

Summer, Outside a Window

Summer, outside a window.

It’s hard to express what I see

But it’s not impossible.

Someday, somehow, I will be

Able to utter, or mumble

The exact words, - exactly,

Without approaching the table

And deflowering the dictionary.

These smells, these sounds, these colours -

Each one should … must have been named

Using a word that one refers

To; or claimed

By long lost lovers

Who never remained,

Nor suffered, between meters and hours.

Some words don’t sound right

Some look strained.

Still some fit snug, - tight,

Upright, and enlightened

By a inner beauty too bright,

Too pure – yet, course grained.

Which bristles past my spine and dazes my sight.

I need to catch them and feel,

The sweet taste and smell

Of colours in shades unreal,

Trapped outside these rows of intimidating steel.