Lens Mania

  All poems copyright: ravivchhabra.in Managing Editor: https://fnbworld.com  A facebook grab with permission by model Natou I n morning the screen shall light up again opposite the effusive glance. Her breath on my face brushing the cigarette smoke in fine strokes. I touch her face, bosom and the gleaming cheeks, desperate to hear a whisper or two in mirth as we play the music alongside. Her lips burst out with the laughter signature. Is it humour that keeps this rumour going. I probe as she takes a breather. She vanishes like the elusive chime untimed. Why her. Is it a rebound or are we future bound? Inner noise is a reliable partner. My expressions are effusive, yet, I sometimes hear her calling out my name. A distant game we play till the time she stays. Night for her is early. Morning and noon await our final journey.  

Art in Frame All poems copyright: https://ravivchhabra.in Managing Editor:  fnbworld.com   Frolicking flowers photo by the poet . T he artist in me thrives on internal, unending fire and deepening distress.  Both creating ripples in the mind. My art is finetuned by pain. Sillyness of an unending and unreachable sullied love. Cutting off lush branches of innocent swaying trees...the artist laughs. Then there is silence. No pain but a blank mind.   I seek emotional wound. Almost like an addiction. Love is the drug. Pain is love.  Art is created in wilderness and in complete darkness comes alive my drawing slate.

All poems copyright: ravivchhabra.com   Managing Editor:  fnbworld.com   F lirting 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 highs Two 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 lips A 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 lip...

All poems copyright:   ravivchhabra.com Managing Editor:   fnbworld.com A  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 poe...

All Poems Copyright: ravivchhabra.com Managing Editor: fnbworld.com B urray enters a new world lilac and green He got no sleep nor did he weep Lying down on knees he was weedy and weak He didn’t walk or hear or speak Never wanted her to be a sheep In such pincer duress just simple caress Seeing Burray sad I felt like his dad The fur and the broken pause He said it with frozen paws Her smile his best balm Bru is a corn He understands the storm Inside the house who plays foul Burray and Bru got no grouse Bru calls me Papa He loves Frank Zappa! The din is unlike the fallen pin No replacement after displacement Burray was meek Brù heard someone creep He stares and falls asleep Then again up for his meal  Lilac and green... Hurrayyyy! shouts Bru for Burray...

All poems copyright: ravivchhabra.com Managing Editor: fnbworld.com   A t 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, i s she nowhere? A n 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! C ome  now weave my hair with a bouncy, snappy flair Just she to trim my once lofty now crumpled, worn out hair.

All poems copyright: ravivchhabra.com  Managing Editor:  www.fnbworld.com H e 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...

Translated from Hindi to English by Ravi V. Chhabra and subsequently to Spanish  by  Esther Medina  Gracias! E n la vida, todo el mundo ama a alguien Te amaré incluso cuando esté muerto Desde que te conocí, sentí que esta vida es demasiado corta para el amor Las penas del mundo para las cuales uno debe ahorrar un pensamiento Incluso ese último suspiro, te he dedicado Moriré por ti, tanto te amo Te amaré incluso cuando esté muerto En la vida, todo el mundo ama a alguien Para expresar mis emociones en mis canciones Te he guardado en mi corazón como un latido del corazón ¿Cómo puedo imaginar, estar separado de ti Te he robado por mí mismo del destino Yo seré el cuidador de tu amor, tanto te amo Te amaré incluso cuando esté muerto En la vida, todo el mundo ama a alguien Los sonidos de tus pasos iluminan mis pensamientos Cada vez que apareces, es como la magia viva Si te toco mi amor Tu fragancia emana de mi cuerpo durante mucho tiempo Tú eres el que habla la primavera,...

  All poems copyright: ravivchhabra.com Managing Editor: fnbworld.com E n un mundo de improbabilidades, lo inesperado sucede. Cuando el irreal se vuelve real. Dos culturas distintas se abrazan fuertemente mientras sus labios se cierran con sed emocional en sus ojos alegres. La saliva se entremezcla amando en la alquimia de la surrealidad descarada. Sus ojos españoles están a la vez inmóviles como los altos y frondosos árboles verdes que nos miran desde su alrededor cuando nos encontramos en Madrid. Me acerco y siento su barbilla puntiaguda, doblar y oler su cabello sedoso y dejar de preguntarle si hemos conocido a algún lugar antes, ya que todo acerca de ella es demasiado familiar en todos los sentidos! De repente, ella se acercó y susurró en mi oído ... sí, nos hemos conocido antes, no recuerdo cuándo y dónde, pero importa? ¿Cómo sabía lo que yo había estado preguntando sólo a mí mismo? Caminamos hacia el árbol más grueso alrededor del sendero para evadir la m...

All poems copyright: ravivchhabra.com Managing Editor: fnbworld.com  W ah Mohabbat....pehle to tumne neend chheen li. Aur ab uppar se yeh toofani barish ka bhi har-taraf uchhalna. O' paani re paani, thoda zulm aur badha de...aaj raat humko bhi unhi ke kareeb baha de. (Ah, this painful romance....you began by snatching away my sleep. And now, the violent night rain starts to prance in all directions. O' water, dear water, shower me with some more torment.... On this beautiful night of flooding, cast me closer to her).

                                                            All poems copyright: ravivchhabra.com Managing Editor: fnbworld.com                                                            E ngulfed in the depressing mode; They reached the contending zone. The bodily chimes and its din; Emotions sliding into the bin. In darkness within was the weapon; That crushed doubts stumbled upon. He found her after nights of pledging; She chose to push the frightful hedging. Knowing it wasn't over yet; Life still remained a bet. Lustful damp smoke filled their lungs; Intertwined and restless were their limbs.

T he 'lyrical nights' full of togetherness; They kept us warm and restless. Days now go by without a word; Nor sweet mutterings of  birds. Wanting to live life like freaks; We have turned into geeks. I razzed her each day for not giving me time; Knowing  life is anything but grime. The friendship had become such a habit; And, I couldn't help being rabid. Moments wane and turn grim; Our small, wild emotional sin!

Shanto poribeshe-er awaj onek jore sona jachhe...... J odi aami jontronay chillai ta hole ki tomar shanto baibohar bodlabe….  seta dekhai shudhu baki achhe aar.... (I can hear the echo of your silence such far away from where you are.... When I scream in pain, will your silence change its tone?  This is still left for me to experience......)

T he once blithe chats sink in the calmed ocean of upheaval in the day; Rising incessantly past-midnight with perfidious feather-touch of her keyboard. Her fresh photographs sporadically emerge out, volcano-like from the leviathan shores;  And mockingly rush to merge with the imagery that I often pray for to abandon me .           

M y fingers want to know your face' contours; the tongue needs to cleanse its shining pores. Let not my eyes open till you know I have dissolved my love in yours......

S he came like the dew on a drying sunflower and became its gloss I wondered and thought if the flower needed the dew drop to skirt dying of thirst; Or was it the tiny droplet that was destined not to be dissolved in dust I got the answer with a thunderous cloudburst ...the downpouring with all its thrust As I saw the children joyously do the rain-dance; like the sunflower and the dew drop loving in a wondrous trance.

E verything exists nothing has value Lies is all they tell you Swearing by truth for deceiving Talking love for receiving Trying to talk intellectual in vain Spreading discontentment and pain Correcting mistakes by blunder Making love in the thunder Facing the mirror to use loads of paint With an attempt to look a bit quaint Cheapness gets personified Avarice, thus recognised Yet, the hidden self emerges; Vanity always surges Present forever diminishes the worth of past Future holds no meaning and life is supremely lost… .

All poems copyright:  ravivchhabra.com Managing Editor:  fnbworld.com   Our Embrace S he whispers when I shout; her seeming tranquility is an answer to my madness. We often meet in the night woods and every time, the darkness becomes our embrace.

SILENCE OF THE LENSE! "T here is no better companion than silence, no better friend than nature, no better critic than a shadow, no better lover than imagination, no better device than a still camera, no better worship than music and no better reward than satisfaction. " - r V c http://www.ravivchhabra.com/

Sufism and Love                                         T he word Sufi (pronounced as soo-fee) comes from the Greek word Sopho or wisdom. Sufis are involved with LOVE - for God and for all living beings. There is no dichotomy for him (Sufi) in the meaning or understanding of love. He/she ‘lives’ on his terms. To eat food with a beggar or the diseased is as pleasurable to him/her (a Sufi) as dining with a King. There is no difference. He follows the instinct – the heart. There is hardly any room in his heart for ego. The Hindu temple and the Muslim mosque are the same places for a Sufi. He revels (& rebels) outside these structures ! Sufism is a religion of passion, a religion of the heart. While the Buddhist seeks the "giving of up desire," the Sufis forget the self through the celebration of their desire for union with God and, often with the beloved representative of Go...