FEMINISM

"I am a feminist," she said, gazing intently at the pastel blue wallpaper.

"So...you hate men?" He had propped himself up by the elbow and was staring incredulously at her.

"No!" she protested. "It’s not like that! Feminism is not about hating men. It means, it means-"

But she never got to explain to him what feminism meant. For even as she was searching for the words to make him understand, he had leaned over and sealed her lips with a kiss.

"I don’t know what feminism is," he whispered hoarsely, "and I don’t care. But I know you’re female...." His lips were now travelling down her neck and over her bare breasts. "And I know you’re feminine...." He sighed and let his head rest on her chest, listening contentedly to the rhythm of her heart, as she tenderly tousled his hair the way she knew he could never have enough of.

"Yes, yes," she muttered, totally confused. "But feminism doesn’t mean not being fem-" Her words were cut short as his smiling deep brown eyes pierced hers and she got crushed in a tight embrace.

"I love you, baby," he murmured as he rolled over on his side and pressed her hand to his lips.

"I love you too," she heard herself say. And she didn’t know why, but at that moment, as she watched him get out of bed to shower and get ready for work, she felt like laughing, sobbing and puking, all at once.

A SONG OF MOURNING

Not long ago was the earth

An abode beauteous,

Carpeted by the velvet green,

Roofed by the halcyon blue;

And ribboned by babbling brooks

Of a metallic sheen.

Gnarled giants stood patient guard-

Wizened gentleness cast in

Frames stout and hard,

Peering at the cheerful white clouds

Scurrying across the azure above.

The giants laughed at the pranks

Of the frolicking streams,

As they wound by their knotty feet

On their journey to the lushest leas.

The clouds loved the leafy fragrance

Of the canopies that stroked them,

And at times, their woes they wept out

Against the loving brown bosoms.

Confided the winds in these soothing giants

And left with souls purged

Of the burning angst.

Birds perched on the giants’ arms

And sang to them mellifluous strains,

While the giants smiled and swayed

In rhythmic beat, their emerald heads.

But invaded into this paradise

The ruthless villain Man-

With hard glittering eyes

Full of avarice and lies,

Carrying razor-like smiles,

And something shiny besides.

The cold metal glistened in the sun,

Held in Man’s brutal clasp;

With stony swipes they fell

On the bewildered hapless giants,

Whose limbs they hacked,

Whose hearts they pierced,

And left lying dead

In a pool of betrayed blood.

The whole land went into mourning

Of their beloved giants;

The velvet carpets tore and smudged,

The halcyon blue paled into ugly grey.

No more did the birds sing,

No more did the winds sigh,

No more did the brooks laugh,

No more did the clouds cry,

No more, no more....

And where once resounded

The lovely dance beats of life,

Echoed the sinister silence of death,

Sharpened by metallic silver blades.

LONELY SKIES

Each shimmering star,
A soul shivering
In the loveless cold-
Broken hearts scattered
Across a murky blue reality,
Trembling with untold grief
Amidst the unknowing,
Unfeeling, steady moonshine.

A Woman's Love

A woman’s love runs deeper

Than the springs of sorrow

That crisscross life;

A woman’s love is purer

Than the first snow that swathes

The mountain tops.

A woman’s love flows free

As the doves that wing

The cerulean dome;

A woman’s love is gentle

As the happy breath

Of a sleeping babe.

Mysterious as the mist

That swirls in a vale astray;

A woman’s love is wild,

Like a forest fire

On a summer’s day.

A woman’s love, honestly returned,

Swells like the tide

On a full moon night,

And engulfs her lover

In perennial spate.

A woman’s love, if basely spurned,

Kindles fury- that shakes the hills,

Stills the roaring seas;

And spawns hurt that smoulders

In her grave.