Watching you sleep

Watching you sleep

Here sleeps a girl with a head full of magical dreams, a heart full of wonder and hands that will shape the world

– Sleeping Beauty

Damn, you are so beautiful. My angel, my beautiful angel. Heaven only knows how many a hours I have spent beholding your tender face, kissing you in your slender slumber, caressing you with every gaze. I have never seen anything, natural nor divine that sis but half as beautiful as my lovely dear. You are but a little piece of heaven god left with me.

For those among you, who by superiority of your intentions are well on your way to let the authorities know that a certain creepy stalker is on the loose. Stop! I pray. I ain’t no pervert nor a creep (that may be up for debate) . I am but one such rare breed of a guy who is so in love in with his wife that watching her fall asleep in you arms is the one thing he looks forward to most everyday, One who just cant help buy gaze at her face and melt as snow at when the slightest hint of a smile dawns on her face.

Time is a strange thing, when you are in love. One could hardly believe how it flies and how it morphs around you. I can but hardly believe that it has been over 7 years since when I first met her, 6 since I first kissed her and eternities since I started loving her and of course 1 since we married. I have known her forever, from lifetimes before and will for lifetimes hence. Even now, every single day I feel as if it was just yesterday that we first met.

Those moments have become so magnificently romanticised, like the balcony in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet our places are no more just blips on the maps but stuffs of lore and serenades. Our stories have been told so many times that they are are now much myth and some essential fact.

I don’t want to write another ode to my beau, have I not written enough of that already. But then for what avail is this piece written, but for the being another ode to she; my love, my muse.

Her

 

The Last Love

+Amrutha T  was not the first girl I loved. If she had been I might never have realized how special she is. In a way all my past failures were a prequel for this moment of truth. A series of necessary failures for making the one right choice.

Beautiful Mornings

These mornings I have come to love, they have remained the same but then they are a constant reminder of the one thing that has not changed with us. Even when the hair fell and the skin wrinkled and as the small golden ring slowly bit into our flesh, this has not changed, these beautiful mornings, slowly waking up from the clutches of sleep and feeling that warmth of love clinging to you. It is as addictive as it will ever get with love, it is as much love as one can ever take. It is love and love alone and one can never seem to have enough of it.
Living and loving are not one grand expedition nor is it a luxury cruise. There will moist certainly be luxuries along the way, there will be meadows with green grass and beautiful flowers, there will be the wonderful music of brooks and the solidarity of woods. Even if it turns out not to be luxurious it will most certainly be happy. But that will not be all that is to it, there will storms and there will be dark clouds that slowly crawl its way over the marvelous dreams that we so incipiently weave. Even while as I was writing these wonderful words of love I am scornful at my lovely wife for she just bugged me insipidly. For she must know what I am doing and is convinced that whatever it is that I am doing, I love it more than her and this time she may very well be right.
Every fight revitalizes the relationship, you fight and you get it out of your system. Then you make up, apologize and make slow and passionate love as if you two where separated for an eternity. That is how you make it work and make it last, the fights and the thrown China is as much part of this voyage as the reckless careless love that we inspire. But one thing must be remembered not all fights are meant to be won some are to be lost as others are to be won, because your loss your victory as well.
Now are you wondering what has all this to do with the beautiful mornings I was earlier describing? Each of those mornings is a rose and they have their thorns. Every morning as you wake, as you glance at the angelic face, with eyes closed, face calm and a small unperceivable smile hanging on her luscious lips one must realize that it is love that is sleeping with you love that is both beautiful and thorny. Slowly when you kiss her temple and take in her scent, gently as you press her to you and feel in you, her heart beat that is the beauty of life that is love. When in your dreams and in your passion your heart beats as one and when every morning at the sight of that woman your heart skips a beat, that is love. And such love is made with great patience and utmost care.
PS: I no longer scorn at her but has a smile on my face that says that I can’t be angry at her long enough and at the first sight of her when I sneak out of my study, I will embrace her and look into the beautiful eyes of hers, I will kiss her on her soft lips just like our first kiss and the many first kisses hence. That is our love unspoken but forever expressed.

The Kiss

A small poem that I wrote for a past post and that was rediscovered now.

The day was dry, moments wary,
and then there was the kiss.
The sun shone and clouds gone,
and there was the Spring
Butterflies had come, birds sang
and then there was the KISS.
Read the whole article about the kiss here The Story of a Kiss

In Her Beautiful Eyes

Everything I know of that day I know from the myriad reflections it casted on her beautiful eyes. Everything thing about that day I remember not from sensing but from watching shadows it casted on the deep abyss of her eyes. That is where I was looking, that is all where I could bring myself to look, they were insidious like the fire was to the moth, captivating, entrancing. I am sure a million stars twinkled that night for eyes they out sparkled the finest of diamonds. What I did that day what I said that day, a different being of consciousness did for I was too busy witnessing the miracle that she was.

As I held out my hands to the open car door, I first saw her legs, with the freely flowing tunic caressing her smooth skin and soon enough a delicate hand came resting on my hands and a smile on my eyes. I was transfixed in that moment in time and a part of me shall forever be. She held my hands, trembling yet firmly holding on to mine as we ascend the stellar stairs. There was on her lips the most fabulous of smiles, one that befitting of the princess she was. Slowly we were shown to the dimly yet intoxicating lit tables placed near the dark waters of the pool that reflected the whole of heaven above and that which were ours to be taken. The dim yellow flickers of these half dozen candles played on her face the most coquettish of dances, seductive and sultry they suavely moved. A vision so serene you see but seldom in life that the mere sight of such paradisiacal beauty stops all of time and nature about it. I knew the light smile that have had strayed on to my lips and was slowly creeping into my eyes which but now filed with an almost animalistic desire. 

I think there was a man singing a beautiful European melody that may have ones made love bloom in the hearts of many a lovely princessess, I cannot vouch for his being there but the music I remember. I remember because of the subtle moments she made in lieu to the rise and fall of rhythm. There was wine I remember the red liquid creeping onto her flawless scrumptious lips, they say they twitched under it’s spell I remember. 
I remember talking to her and I remember kneeling before her moments later. I know I was transcribing my heart to her in not the most eloquent English I have mastered. I remember stumbling and I remember stammering, I remember my agonizing search for words, in moments when they seem elusive like the mystery of the heavens. I remember the sole stone on a solitaire and the teary diamond that formed in her eyes. I remember a feeble dampness on my hands and a feebler still response. I remember hearing my heart beat so loud that they were both deafening and horrifying . I remember the deafening silence and the moments when time stopped agonizingly still. I remember the feeble nod and the ring move slowing as our settled on her hands. I remember the taste of her lips seasoned with tears.

And that was the platinum moment of our love.

Lost

Stranded in the crowded Island, Often I find myself alone.

Staring at the starry water that knows not malice.
True its heart it shows me my wet eyes and the damp face,
It knows not my heart and cruel in disposition it stands.
Yet it tells me a tale of lost hearts and valor.
It tells of battles frivolously fought and lost for no reason.
I stare and stare back at me does the truth.
That I stand alone in a crowded island, Stranded I stand.
Sitting under the palm tree, On its lofty sand beaches,
I realize I wrong the boat and the voyage.
Yet marooned I should not be for my crimes.
In passion of utmost carelessness they were done.
I live not that life of moderation and revel in flaming passion do I,
The sin of such life is the peril of loneliness.
Over the expanse and adrift in its care is a boat.
A boat that I have missed for all that that was not to be.
Burned in the high flames of vanities passion was the plank.
And lost was the ride that was only mine to ride.
In this paradisaical expanse I stand, falsely wronged.
I stand stranded on a crowded Island, forever alone.
Destined am I to the case of invisible bars, 
Of lost dreams and careless passion.
Destined am I to this lonely abyss,
Of very slow decay of perpetual loneliness.

Oh! My Lovely Lass


Oh! My lovely lass, why don’t come sit by my side and lay your head upon my lap. Let me rock you to sleep and ever so slowly to the world of a million dreams. Why don’t you tell me your weary day and I promise thee that I shall listen with all my heart. Of all the people in this world so wide, I for one know that there are times when you look not for advice and opinion but an understanding shoulder to rest your heavy head.
It may not be always that I am the ideal husband, but for the wonderful wife that you are, I sure will work my way up there. For a lass so lovely like you deserve but the very best and the best alone shall suffice.

Oh my Lovely lass, tell me of all the vistas that you have seen, the people you met and the life you experienced. Let us be that teens again, who sat on a mossy rock by the ravishing sea and talked of all the wonders under the sun, the moon and the million stars. Let me bet that guys who used to listen to your ever heart beat and who reveled in the rhyme of your breath. I confess to the time that was once, when my very existence clang onto thine like a drowning man to straw.

Oh my love, tell me your tale and do fill those many a blank pages that I in my mindless slumber missed, I promise thee to miss not another page of our wonderful saga of love, I will with religious adherence etch every word of our life to be in the beautiful script that ought to be. Oh my love this I promise.
Oh my dear, do come and sit by my side, lay you dainty head on my lap, let me cajole you, let me relish you, Oh my love be here with me as if you knew that I belonged to thee.

Oh my love, look at me like you used to look, your eyes so moist and dreamy. Let me behold the love, the love know has not died, not yet.