Jaccuzi People

I feel a boulder on my nerves; 

Brush of sticky imagination

Binds me to a pole of abstraction

As I watch these people

Glow like lawns in palatial GRAs

Who seek for pleasure but refuse labour.

The artist with an easel in hand is the guide to a world afar

Brought close in the memory that recognises.

BUTTERFLY KISSES

Two lips cling
Beside grey hallows of bamboo bed --
Above their stay is the wing
Of a many-coloured butterfly.
Softly, little by little passions rise
To a summit so high.

A Presence like the Wind

Through the doors of my heart
Her presence enters,
A trail of light, wind, and commendations
Of summer escort her footsteps
Sashaying the strands of her hourglass garment.