She shone with silver light
Crimson lips smiling
Under fiery eyes
And as her inferno
All I could do was
Brewed at 4 a.m.
Are at once
More honest and
Than those spoken
At any other time.
I think I have been in love but once,
And since then though I liked a few folk well,
It’s never been quite the same.
But the word today is so oft overused,
It’s worth grind to dust and bone
Love must be greater than mere touch of lust,
Greater than gifts and mere needs of flesh
For wars were waged and world’s rose and fell for love
For men battled death, and women crossed the realms of unforgiving Hell for love
In books and plays and poems and words can one feel the call of love, through time, beyond death
In tattered letters of loved ones surviving years and years can be felt the smooth caress of love
It’s what makes us more than flesh, blood, bone and ghost
It’s the eternal story that keeps us alive across dead civilizations and dying centuries
Mountains have crumbled and seas have stormed,
Lightning has fallen and long fires have burnt, leaving bodies wrecked and souls shattered,
I have but felt its soft touch once,
And perhaps I yet do not know what I love you means,
Maybe all it means is do not leave me here, all alone, shivering under freezing winds,
Do not leave me without the warmth of your presence, comforting like crackling hearthfire,
Stay by my side.
I beseech you, stay.
– Pritesh Patil ©
(Inspired by Neil Gaiman’s Dark Sonnet)
A lifetime full of adventures
Of mystery, of discovery.
Ride over clouds,
And climb misty mountains
Under the amber sky.
Live a little,
Then live some more.
Leave home behind,
And go on an adventure.
Let the forests sing to you,
And as the night grows cold,
Let the crackling firelight hug you
As you dance to the music of life.
Follow roads unknown,
To lands unseen
Towards experiences new
Let songs unknown
Guide you to home & hearth.
Some magic, some adventure.
What happens to a dream unfettered?
Does it soar wild and free?
Like a Great Dragon from the myths?
Or burn hot like passion – And then bloom?
Does it fade like an old memory?
Or crystallize and harden – Like a twinkling diamond?
Maybe it just dies,
Like many a hope and wish.
Or does it rise unto freedom?