Source: Internet I only want a few things-One is to sit by a beachand chill with a beer.Two is to fly like an eagle,at topspeed, leave no trace.Three, I want your body to be with mine,feel your spine and nerves more.Four, I want your fingersto run through my hair.Five, your eyes, caressAnd sixthly, tie your heart with minelet all fears burn and die.
In the early pre-dawn hours there is nothing I hearbut your voice,whatever I look for is you.Source-Internet. Drawing by Federico Garcia Lorca You dance in my chestoften throb and pinch. You-A wide skyA breathing starI could watch again and againAnd never get enough of.You-A fathomless riveronce drownedit's escape impossible.You-A fine artOf many complex thingsput in a thin sack! You, a ...
Picture credits: Tony J | Yohan SiriwardenaMay be you should visit the beach. Stand where you’d like to be. When it is twilight or when dusk is about to enter, look straight. Head up. And then down. Down. Slowly. You will see the sun sinking down. As if the sea is pulling sun into water. We call it sun set ...
You are a deviland a goat at the sametime.Infact you are a devil goat. You are devilwhen you cut heart with sore wordsstoke fire in methrow stones from a topand disapprove.You are a goateverytime I say 'yes'and when you say 'no'a million times.Infact you are a devil goatI have scarcely leftand much loved.
These wrappers burn for meThe filter is yours Even after a smokeEvery now and againYou keep sending upSmog in swirlsBarely breathingSeldom forgottenSo hard not to dieYou take me on a tripDown that lane named memoryYou are the heaviestweights I lift
Pic source -Internet There are three things that I would love to go back to . One , it would have been some where in the 1999’s , how Aththamma and I use to sit on a door step and read stories to each other and sing .There was no particular time for that. But often we did it after ...
Berlin ArtparasitesYou are the heart's volcanobreaking out accidentallyputting all vessels in turmoil ,and in all that burningit is temptation,you are mine in an instant .But sometimes like a pest-irritatingand you are then gone ,function suspendedas though into a deep slumber.You area flower bandbound togetherwith forger-me -not s,a memory in awumbuk .Sometimesthe daylightflickeringthrough the minute squaresin a wire mesh.And of all,like ...
I'm an ex-citizen of your heartbarred from entryand of denied visa.Berlin Artparasites But often I get home sick.How many blue waves do I have to tear upto sail back to you?Is it an iron made heart you gotto become oblivion of me?Or did thoughts of love in your heartfall into extinct volcanoes?
Flip sides of the ventriclesthrow away all its precious veins suck bloodundo all the sweetness in combustion,oxygen-free.Short of breath.Turn the pink fleshto roast chicken.And have no record of softness in cloud,the teardrop pattern.In doing this,somewhere words pierce the heart and one dies.In this way someone in your life talks out loveand leave your company .This is how it is ,Our ...
Pic Source : InternetI was told by a dear friend that I have not written anything new lately. And instead have been posting what I had written over the years before. There are days when there is so much to write. Then there are days without stories too. There are days that I crave for stories but nothing comes to ...
Taken from Sunila Wila by Pushkara Wanniarachchi Years ago , somewhere in December I found a house seat in the indoor hall of Maharagama Youth Center. It rained butterflies that evening. 6.00 pm. There were a mass of people outside , crowded around the entrance. Many had to go back .I overheard some one saying. Tickets were over. I managed ...
There is a picture of youresting above me on the luggage track in the bus. As the bus runs zigzagI would put my arm into the side pocketready to catch youas if it falls,and I whisper 'take care';very young and precious.
You askedHow do you do?Chuckled , IAnything to eat?Nope , I said.May be Decaf? Said you5th Lane , Colomboturned to test love and other must things heart likedin mid day , August.Open wordscheering eyesrock skipping laughterand a twirl of smoke - tickled my nostrils.I pouredYou pouredYou talkedI smiled.I blush. Said youI then poured over your words,Melted,with so much passion Slipped ...
Pic Source: InternetA couple of years ago an article in Irida Divaina taught me that a work of art , be it a poem , song or whatever doesn’t entirely belong to the creator. Once it is given, it’s owned by the recipient. It’s the recipient’s song. Thereafter. It seems that there is no writer or musician behind most of ...
Pic source :InternetYou must be the sunlight;one that glitters silver on wiresolstice Pacific turn rib clouds orange that moves broken in the mango treeand drops like a pawturns scratch into redand drown them in my skin.
I sit in the eye of lighta chunk of darkness,a bulb, a filament,as a piece of half - lightsneaks throughthe -far -away kos gaha.I watch how you find way to my heart,how you have put off,dark , tall , the fleshy nose-generous and sensitivea rare fragrance,the sky -blue shirt,so handsome you areagain and again.
