Oh Maid..! The Creator Of My Verses..! Poem by sundaram chandrakalaadhar

Oh maid!
Who are you?

Hey..the creator of verses!
Even in the stuffiness of the peak-hour bus
You freeze me into an ice-sculpture!
What sleight of hand is this?

Like the sportive wind
Which ripples through the lush green fields
You snake waves of thrill in my heart!

Hey.!
Who is that peerless sculptor?
How did he carve out your alluring body?
Was it with the chisel of poem?
How did he fix your complexion?
Was it not by dipping his brain
In the brilliant hues of the dawn horizon?
How did he clothe your peace-reigning soul?
Was it not with the colours and designs of choice butterflies?

Ah..those exquisite slopes of your shapely nose...!
The bow-vanquishing curves of your juicy lips...!
The cushiony softness of your shiny cheeks..!
The sparkles that flash from the array of curved swords
Of your eyelids in their ceaseless swipes...!

Oh..how i yearn to lose myself in full
Into rising vapours in your body heat
While I deeply meditate as pearls of dew
At all those beloved holy spots!

Yea..my looks have become your devotees mad!
In the stifling atmosphere of journey
My sight gets squeezed and crushed
In its longing search amidst the milling rush!
Is it to tear you away from my frantic search
So many cursed passengers block my view
As damning screens and curtains of iron?

Oh..how much queenly elegance sports itself
In your simple make-up as an undressed flower!
Hey..why you muddy my virgin mind
Even in the early hours of the day?

O.it is exhilarating to see you peck up
The endless chatter of the lady opposite
With sharp twists and turns of your head
To feed your ears ever at play with strands of hair!

At those moments your loosely hanging ear ornaments
Dangle in sweet madness and careless abandon;
Must you know my mind also suffers the matching fate!

Oh maid..!
Lend me the smallest sprout of your cascading laughter;
I will my palace of heart to you in return!

Hey.my bus! why is this hurry?
Do not reach her place of drop; delay your legs!
The soul of my verse will then dropp down dead!
Why? . do you know?
For she alone is the soul and substance of my verses!