Eila Mahima Jaipaul

Eila Mahima Jaipaul Poems

There is no sweeter sound,
than my breath,
held hostage,
captured amidst,

I lost my pen, love
it ran out of ink.
all I have left
is a pencil with

I will kiss you
good night
good morning
good day

I can hear you whispering
in the night silence of my room
my heart surrenders to you...
like the sun to the moon.

you appear there
in front of me
very nearly transparent
your presence looking like a reflection

closing my eyes I sleep
body floating in darkness
without substance
whether I lay up or down

I'd like to be lost
in that tangle of
and pillows

Sensuous words flow gently
Over ears and around body
Murmuring whispering
Causing squirms and trembles

leaf skeletons
stems hollow
tiny veins, rigid
support air

If I were a poet
I would mix taboo words
Into verses that resemble
sublime metered stanzas.

Body glistening wet
Mind yearning release
Skin begging touch

Can you feel them, Love,
Softly touching your cheek
Tracing the lines of your mouth
Trailing down your neck

I still feel
where you touched me
beloved of heart and soul
I am not a love lost

your kiss is like a sensual droplet of fresh rain
chersihing the petals of a flower
or a fairy dancing inside of the graciousness of temptation
May I always be blessed with the capacity

your hands speak a language
only my body can interpret,
writing mystical glyphs on my skin
inscribing poetry on the curves of me.

I ran easily through the night
despite the path
I was one with the shadows
slipping through moonlight

I lay lust aside and sleep
alone in constellations
of twinkling lullabies,
where the gentle breath

night envelopes my pain and sorrow.
moon's light fails to reach even this place
there is no reprieve
in this vacuum

today words escape me
I am sad beyond them
my world will pause today
and I will ache


sink yourself into me
let me swallow your needs
and release you to mine
the wind shudders in

Eila Mahima Jaipaul Biography

I was born in Brooklyn, but I now live in upstate NY with my family. I am a faux stained glass artist, a lover, a journalist, a thinker, a mechanic, a passionate person... with much too much time on my hands. I've been writing since I was 16... perhaps one day I'll be good at it? 'For when I sample your angel'd prose, my heart soars... my soul is bliss... ' One can only dream! Eila means 'the Earth' and Mahima means 'Greatness' For photo-poems: http: //www.flickr.com/photos/hotinbuffalo/ for more poems... http: //www.synapse.net/kgerken/Y-0612.HTM http: //daugthersoflilith.blogspot.com/ http: //www.othervoicespoetry.org/vol22/jaipul/ http: //www.sentinelpoetry.org.uk/1106/frontpage.html http: //www.kritya.in/0206/En/poetry_at_our_time.html http: //www.sentinelpoetry.org.uk/0906/page0017.htm http: //flickr.com/photos/53541712@N00/)

The Best Poem Of Eila Mahima Jaipaul


There is no sweeter sound,
than my breath,
held hostage,
captured amidst,
a need unfolding.

Eyes gone to lust,
soft lids flutter,
as passion's kaleidoscope,
colors my darkness.

Slender neck flinches,
lips part so lightly,
warm breath spreading,
telegraphing secrets,
of soft stolen kisses.

Soft breast's swell,
arching back moves cat like,
globes framing,
bursting buds of rose.

Arms stretch upward,
pushed high overhead,
fingers curl around nothing,
looking for leverage,
to push back at desire.

Pace comes now quickly,
silken thighs spread,
coaxing lips and tongue to linger,
succulent velvet folds,
hug my perfect pearl,
then render pure nectar.

Urgent cries of passion,
requesting completion,
hips swivel and quiver,
running unleashed

racing toward perfection,
straining for oneness,
overcome by ecstasy,
with satisfaction's arrival.

Wrapped in exhaustion,
there is no sweeter sound,
than my breath,
held hostage,
released by your giving.

Eila Mahima Jaipaul Comments

Eila Mahima Jaipaul is a master poet, of immense talent, bold and endowed with inimitable grace. Her poems, many of them, deal with female sensuality. It is a pity that she no longer shares her poems on PoemHunter.

0 0 Reply
Kee Thampi 11 December 2006

Really this great poet for me is ebullient and more eccentric in her views...and writes...very simple but it inveighs our inuredness.... she never condone anything..... inept, infect.. what happens to the unwanted souls? do they wander looking and lost? I wish to read her poems again and again in this free X mas days.... do they remain staid?

0 0 Reply
Peter Trenear 14 January 2006

I love reading these poems. My Wife was also Eila. These keep me reminded, there is joy, there are tears. So far, I have read only a few But I will read them all

0 0 Reply

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