Gossamer wings
Intricate rings
Interwoven dreams
And sighs within!
Colors of all hues
Wet with teary dews
Pansy, orchids and the likes
Brushed their shades off my hide.
Illyrian blue, translucent red
Made my heart so glad
As HIS light rode my back
I dared to raise my little head.
Bower to bower
Prickly thorny showers
Tore at my diaphanous wings
With their toxic stings.
My flights to fantasy
My delights
and my ecstasy
ripped apart
by their poisonous dart.
Threading with hope
My wings I again wove.
For love I only pine!
Do not clip my wings
For that is all I can call are--MINE.
They are the wings of love, wings of 'Bhakti'. No 'Shakti' can clip them......fly! fly my friend into His love-garden........wow! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
certainly little queen.........your wings are not clipped.........fly high like an eagle and like a vulture you never ponder on the dead ones.........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Jyoti. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks