Language Of Love Poem by lalitha iyer

you write it
it is too silly
the words are silky
when you spell
too smooth and shelled
when you speak it out
you are a fool
when you think of it
you feel ashamed
and when you see some
with blushes on face
and fancy dresses
and mad rushes
you know she is stupid
yes, the script unwritten
the sentence half broken
feelings galore
yet, fails at a single stroke
it is all folly
yet, something overwhelms
you are the master
yet somehow you are a slave
you say no
yet you say yes
the more denied
the more you admit
the globe of emotions
the oceans of musings
the seas of buts
the canyons of inhibited passions
the language of love is silence
darkness covers
the acts of love
but, yet, the mirror shames
the images kill you
they tease your aims
when you sing aloud
you know all are hearing
when you write in verse
you know the peeping Toms will chase
to plunder and exploit your space
yesterdays are dead
tomorrows are dead indeed
this moment
it torments
yesterday you failed
tomorrow you are exiled
yet, today it asks you
make a book of me
sing a song of my
unsung portions still left
trace a sketch of my fig
that they have never dig
how to marvel
your codes to decipher
you washed me ashore
in the golden sands
i am yet to recover
nothing is clear
only a couple of blues
sea waves they curl
upon my hazy looks
still i am stuck
can you hear the bells
distant temple yells
the moon and stars
they winked upon
twinkling as if everything is lie
still I am tested
I have to muster
strength to master
the language which is not foreign
yet, I cannot tell her that 'I love you Gin'