August 16, 2017 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Saksham Gangwar photo



Sanju Clement



An Epic Dream Brighter Than The Diwali



She is my gulmohar realm,

My mansoon ballerina,

My nearest everlasting love story,

My phenomenal muse in the mellifluous air,

My melancholic myth from the Milky Way,

She the core and the pulse

Of my everything,

She is the alpha and the omega

Of my sweetest universal ache!


While applying

The gentle land breeze

From my flaming peacock feather

On the unbending frozen waves

Of her craving oceanic body,


I felt her like a fire curved-

Orbiting mermaid or Blue Nile,

Longing for my lips and pen’s mapping vertical

And horizontal kisses and digs, which allow

My diamantine passions to leak

Into her pond—heart

And to decorate its infinite ceiling

A rippled-multiverse of our own,

Ah, only with the supporting, angelic grace

Of her galactic dreams!




I felt her like the last celestial sculpture

Of the dancing damsel,

More monumental than

The one in the Ajanta and the Ellora caves.


When her bow’s burning metal-blood

Climbed over my infallibly potent arrow,

When the long enchanted merman in me

Dived to plant a future in the midnight-vortex

Of the flailing sea,


The passionate planet’s

Own ticking and locking Time in ‘WE’

Got hypnotized and got tied

On the dynamically orbiting tail

Of that magic moment!



‘WE’ exploded

Up and down like the unfolded—warmth

On the roof of a youthful umbrella,

With the sparkling quills and blazing kisses

Of the delightfully growing drizzling—Blue.




Like the northern ether

Of a Sub-continent explodes

With the enchanted euphoria

Of an incessant genuineness,

Of the cosmic secular servants
Like our souls.


Like an enthused quill of fire,
Squeezing the flamed honey

From the floating breasts

Of the blinking blushful-sky,

Like a rough plough pillaging

The seasoned meadow

To sow its own oil seeds,

I ornamented that iconic surge

Immersing my lengthy pilgrimage,

Conquering heart and on-the-dot liquid-lights

Like the Sunlight’s natural

But secret in-and-out journey

Through the unoccupied and the undivided—



That punctual

But sensuously sacred second


On the preamble of our MORTALITY,

For the legendary nectar of the divine TRUTH

To feast and to paint us as one,

As knotted cosmic-couple,

As here and as everywhere,

Wherever the body

Of our tangled breath and hope go carrying

Our stellar understanding belt,

On which we buckle our own universal—



A pure herbal—tiredness

After the ancient blissful COSMIC—YOGA

Made us and our breaths

Embrace each other again and again,

To launch the aging island like anchored-ships

Into the ageless celestial cells’ (elements—less )

Epicsouled knotting and floating….


But, my interstellar solitude now find ‘I’

Like the invading thirsty Past hangs

Like the Adam’s Apple,

In the silence assembling throat

Of that female—fruit.


Oh, Nightfall,

Did she sleep like the absorbed pomegranate—ink,

On the bed of that heavenly 7D pleasures,

After I quill—ed the growing autograph of LIFE

In the rosy papyrus of her womb,

And flew away to wipe off

The fuelled remnants of late

Lingering night’s dreamy auroras

Or enamored fireworks

From the super sensitive skin

Of my long thread-less candle?



If I could splash at least a drop of sleep

Into the daylight eroded but….un—shut—

Eyes of the moonlit-sky tonight,

With the cradle hymns sprouting from

The serenading-roots and butterfly-kisses

Of our ethereal fusion,

I shall recharge and reclaim

My Love’s elemental flame again,

As I did a sextillion longest

Pensive nights, blanketing the entire edges

Of shivering wintry night upon us,

To crack our own ardent

But innermost ‘Diwali’


Ah, into the sparks, spirits, sweats,

Primordial thunder-tongue bites,

And golden-twilights famished sky….


My Queen,

Your geography is a cherubic lioness.

Your mouth is a darling manna.

Your breasts are the apples from Eden.

Your magnetic-hip is a rejuvenating oasis.

But, your flowery well a whole paradise.


What revolution without sex?

What big-bang without a big cosmic foreplay?


I come to you now….
Like an erected electrifying-light,

I come to your holy sanctum now….

With my restless tongue and boneless candle

To worship you, to burn your gravity-well

With unending hottest prayers and drumming desires

Let us worship each-other….
For the growth of our daily dreams and Cosmic-Yoga.


Let us insult and conquer and cure

The ascending animal-consciousness

Of human-beings and alien-beings

Star-beings and etc-beings….

Let them get enlightened….

From our entwined-love of eternal struggle
And tantric-push and tantric-pull….


You are my only goldmine symmetry

My inexhaustible fire-hood flower

My thirst and hunger quenching watermelon

My Aphrodite

My Guinevere

My Matilde Urrutia

My pomegranate-blossom Anarkali

My breathing miracle Taj Mahal!







Sanju Clement

Sanju Clement is a Promethean—poet—painter who hails from Kerala (India), land of gods, devils and monsoon too . . His poetic and artistic invention is that he starts from the zonal heights of the light of Metaphorical Surrealism but he will land on the realistic feet of Metaphorical Realism, which truthfully mirrors in most of his poems and paintings . . He is compiling his books of poesy on Love and Political/Protest poems.

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