Showing posts from 2020

Two Lips and Tulips

All poems copyright: ravivchhabra.comManaging Editor: Flirting in rain and sultry wind are two tulips-like Lewis and Flora. Playing games and music to tease, bound in endless nature’s fragrance at ease.  Flora laughs, frolics and vanishes. Lewis looks around and holds her by the hand then by toe and feels her smooth, shapely hips... Porn is not born for Lewis. Touching her all over in the faded, worn out blue jeans worn in a hurry, the gaps are wide and newly torn. Lewis slides beneath Flora’s creamy thighs reaching new highsTwo lips like newly blossomed tulips are arranged in hands with gloves of love. Flora slowly brings the drum-stick near her perfect bosom and bums. Lewis hands over the flute to Flora for soothing her shiny lipsA tune they start to play in a garden ‘down under’ jumping together soon on a sofa meant for Flora. Lewis caresses Flora in her home making love after downing a few shots of concocted vodka. Two sealed lips like one on top of the other intertwined…

Chiselled chin

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cloudburst without the thunder; her perfumed body wouldn’t let me sleep a wink as I walked thirstily to my desk by the bedside. I talked to her by myself at once holding her face, licking her pointed chin and reaching for her back rubbing my hand all over it.
She didn’t stop me nor spoke a word as I ruffled her short-roughed up hair tasting her shapely, salty fingers back and forth that usually hold the pointed brush to paint music icons.
My thick fingers in contrast brushed over her eyelids and caressed them to close. I slid my face towards hers and sucked her upper lip and paused to proceed for the lower. Her soft earlobe kept my fingers wanting for more. We smooched like I had never before. I felt at once the frisson in her delicate body and the sweat of her underarms. She sighed shyly and I looked into her probing eyes and confessed I shall put this daydream on paper.
You seldom write poetry but I do remember you had o…

Hurray for Burray!

All Poems Copyright:ravivchhabra.comManaging
Burray enters a new world lilac and greenHe got no sleep nor did he weepLying down on knees he was weedy and weakHe didn’t walk or hear or speakNever wanted her to be a sheepIn such pincer duress just simple caressSeeing Burray sad I felt like his dadThe fur and the broken pauseHe said it with frozen pawsHer smile his best balmBru is a cornHe understands the storm Inside the house who plays foulBurray and Bru got no grouseBru calls me PapaHe loves Frank Zappa!The din is unlike the fallen pinNo replacement after displacementBurray was meekBr├╣ heard someone creepHe stares and falls asleep

My untrimmed hair

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At once I am your grizzly bear though not entirely bare
I shall soon be there at your stair to get  hair repair

In front and rear, she is always near
Somewhere if not everywhere I can hope to get trimmed my hair
I begin to stare here and there in my lair

Where is my cute mayoress so so fair always willing to trim my hair? 

Best at care she gave me the glare with caress and en clair, is she nowhere? An honest prayer for my hair
There and here she is my compeer far and near and she alone can draw the waves of my hair threadbare
She will trim my hair into a fine layer
Pears on a nearer tree and free

Me and she make a worthy hairy pair! Come now weave my hair with a bouncy, snappy flair

Just she to trim my once lofty now crumpled, worn out hair.

An ode to the broken man

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He lies under the shadow of the  reading spotlight  hearing the glisten in the eeriness of his soul

Don't  mock the broken man

He smells of going fishing with friends and his fine lass walking back on the pale grass
 The memories keep playing truant not the  dreams he sees of them then and now...

Don't mock the broken man
He gets visions of her bosom and his hands never wanting to let go as she first helped him slide them inside her black denim shirt 
Romancing to make him feel her under the skirt skin

Don’t mock the broken man

Rich forever he shall be. Memories for breakfast and same for  dessert. They in unison stroked and smoked weed and satisfied their greed
Best indeed
Don't mock the broken man

Has dawn knocked?  He hears the crows and parrots outside the balcony trying to peep
 for their pointed beak feeling a wee weak
A gush of yesteryear gets him...

Will you mock the broken man?