Lusty turf

Her wrinkled hands touched

the rusted strings of an old

guitar,slivered chords rumbled

creating unsung melodies.

A graveyard bloomed in festivity,

daffodils carpeted the ground,

as lusty turf  greedily awaited

to replay the games of bodies.

In denial  spirits gazed in despair,

as the illusion of breasts unable

to allure them to impregnate the

seedlings into her ailing womb…

About Piusha

Futile writer,enjoys reading anything under sun.Still on a quest to find a new facet within me.
Gallery | This entry was posted in Home, poem, Poems and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Lusty turf

  1. Honorable Poetess Piusha Singh,
    I am indeed much delighted to read your latest creative poetic work since your verses are like paintings from reality. Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than getting a vision. A painter should start on every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where open to the elements by the light.

    The maximum happiness for the body soul starts with absolute freedom: freedom from misery, unhappiness, suffering, freedom from the dictates of wishes, and, ultimately, freedom from being trapped in a material body. But what keeps us fascinated in such a condition are the desires for sensual and mental pleasures. And the hardest freedom to attain is freedom from sex desire. It is superior to love many things, for therein lies the factual strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done. Love is for attaining this kind of complete freedom. However, this means freedom from material desires of all kinds. If you are still entrapped by the idea of needing your sensual, emotional, or mental desires fulfilled, then you are far from being free, mentally, intellectually, and certainly not spiritually. In other words, if you still have desires for the pursuit of sensual or mental pleasures and happiness, then you are still a servant of your mind and senses. We all are still a slave to the dictates of our mental and sensual impulses. We are still bound by the golden chains of the temporary illusion of chasing after pleasing the senses.

    I wish to re-blog this verse along with the translation process to add to the project. Also, please accept my congratulations for your return to poetry writing despite of your busy work schedules, both at your work place as well as sweet home,
    Regards & Love
    WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Thanks for your response, wishing you a HAPPY DEEWAI to your blessed family, Regards & Love Williamsji Maveli

    Liked by 3 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s