Messi and Jesus

  Boot master, relentless workaholic, Tatoo junkie and yet supreme architect of Moves rapturing towards goal. The precise passes, the hopeful lobs, The attacking runs, how a man who learnt, That one hand is more flexible Than another, learned later on, That the same is true For the feet. How we are All, preferred-limbed soldiers…

Us

We don’t converse as we did before. Perhaps the cycles in our vocal chords Have run their lengthy revolutions. Maybe we Bite our teeth more, clench them every time We can’t seem to find a new topic. Maybe we were those oranges, peeled And squeezed, until all the juice was poured. , So what do…

You Are Beautiful

I don’t know all the possibilities Of a wine glass. They are random Carved into chance; serendipity to snake eyes. And still when I take a wine glass In my hand, and sip her a little My fickle lips become steady To your firm contact.

Wine

The acres Of vineyards that pave Mother earth and hold Aloft vines and fruits When one bunch – seemingly innocuous Is macerated, dripped out of her flesh, Concocted and aged in cask Bequeathing the sommelier And the lover, a little dose of heaven And in this boundless universe They are the fruit of the gods…