Poems by Aneeta Chitale

Panchalli
 
Unfurling the six yards
Of my silken saree
Brocaded in strong silken
Bold bright colours
Slithering slightly over
My snug
Sexy curves
Of my womanly charm
Riveting looks
Pried, on to those
Voluptuous curves
Contouring my sleazy bosom
Like lampposts
Or rosy buds
Enchanting golden rays gaze on
My blackless choli
 
Dressed in my Princess’s robes
Reclessesly, held
Driving men to bizarre dreams
Roused to erotica
Pinning my hot haunting images
Of Three-D, of an enchantress
As if to trying to hold my
Luscious fruits of desire
In their wanton hands groping, caressing
Of carnal pleasure’s
With endearing words of passion
Stocking to hot pursuit like
Hot dessert, on parched lips
 
Carving paths, patterns on
A Diva
Sometimes touching deep ravines and
Sometimes melting in deep gorges
Of a women’s body
 
Trying to rouse, ignite flames
Of my khol lined eyes, smouldering gaze
To sensuous blazon
‘Shringar’ drawing in the sounds
Of Nav Rasas! Of
Love and Lust
Only after
The six yard saree has
Glued to and embellished on my form
A gossamer!
On my diaphanous form…
As a Kaminee
Draped Chaste
or
Unchaste,
Wanton
Or
A pure pious woman
From mythology
 
‘Me a Panchalli’
Pulled and devoured
In demonic hell!
Me still pure and full of pride
Contoured in love n chaste
 
And me still finding my Krishna!
 
 
 
The Lantern Boat
 
In the twilight saga
The tiny bird twitters
Across the myriad skies
The orange ball turning blue n purple
She flaps her wings, splutters
The heavy rain drops
Off her wings
 
Rain washed and rose merry scented
Her earthly twining’s
Wrapped in her flight to fantasy
Perhaps ….
She hurries in an Old Oak’s burrow
Gathering her twigs, of dried hay n palms
Silken threads and soft feathers
To craft her cocoon
 
Sprawled in nature’s graffiti
Amongst, the tall bamboo’s and groovy coconuts
And mango groves
She sprints home
To her young ones
Her heavenly hearth
Nestled in mahogany woods
Under the vibgyor clouds
In colossal nature as
 
Rains prosper
To swollen heights
When tumulting rivers trine
To rise in nature’s fury
And
Nature tosses her slender, soft
Crocheted bed- laid in
The deep oak’s burrow
 
She dives in the fierce storm
Deep in the woods, away
The burned out Lantern with it’s slender wick
Is still warm, charms her senses
To foster a home for her birdies
She quickly lays, the cotton balls and dry twigs
In a warm den, in the fading light
 
Perched on the soft bed, the three birdies sway in
The Lantern Boat, like “Noha’s Arc”
Tarnished and rusted the Lantern Boat
Sways this way and that way
And
The giant oaktree stares
All night long
As the wise old owl, chills in the dark night
The mother sparrow trails
Through the rainy days, game
As
She specks the nuts from the
Busy squirrel’s nest!
 
 
 
Copyright of AneetaChitale (India)Collection “Panchalli”
All Rights Reserved

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