The Amplest

The Amplest



Being totally blessed that morn,
Hooked on my violin to adorn,
Gayous were all on the street when sun had just born;
Some stared at me with the eyes of lorn.

It was the huge edifice;
People were as if in disguise,
Spread all over on chaise;
Dread in everyone’s face and worth none to praise.

Dais was occupied and the performers began in a ho hum;
Tied were the spectators and I could smell them turn ransom,
They neither wanted noir nor a choir:

I was on stage to fiddle all good music in ma head,
Had to erode them to giggle or else I was dead;
Hands duressed on the fido,
Becalmed, abut and slumbered,
But found strings outnumbered.

Somehow I could grab a lampoon-
- from my four chambered aortic pump,
Desired for this kind of slump,
Or atleast to console myself when she was supposed to dump.

Retrieving the thirst of lust,
I Straded The Serene in gust!
Resulting the storming crowd to bust.

Could hear some silly old men-
-puffing in the corner of the den
Saying “that was the best jest in zest”
Hurraying me for passing in this kindof test,
Memoired forever placidly in Me, She and the Rest J

Quavering Poet
20th November ‘08
iquaver@gmail.com

Aphorist

Aphorist

Dawn noon and dusk, he lays on a doss,
The flowers dooms to husk, he doesn’t have any posse;
His powers are at brusque, cos he ain’t have any boss!

Neither gabbled nor waddled,
He just twaddle and toddled;
But they erred and stirred to façade,
And compared his caboodle as in the boodle.

Relinquished with this as a scar,
His mind went ajar;
Showed them all as a guiding star,
Scoring a full par with a gloss.

Dawn noon and dusk, he lays on a doss,
The flowers dooms to husk, he doesn’t have any posse;
His powers are at brusque, cos he ain’t have any boss!

Quavering Poet.
8th September '08

iquaver@gmail.com

SCHMALTZ

SCHMALTZ

Life’s baffling when she gets obsessed
Raffling aback after it gets regressed
Had to just behave like a wimp
But remained helpless on the crimp.

Life’s like a bandy, sometimes smirking holding a candy,
And sometimes weeping drinking brandy
Had to just behave like a dandy
But remained unmoved on sandy.

Life’s like a Lizard in the Drums
Sitting unshaken on the tight bums
Had to just move groping
But remained there gremlin.

Life’s stupendous when I glow
And it seems marvelous when my heart blows
Had to just propose her with a bang
But remained numb hearing to the slang.



Quavering Poet.
17th May ’08.
iquaver@gmail.com

Final Distortion

Final Distortion


It was all the time who told me
To sit back and see,
How to win the Zeal, without profanity but,
Only with the given opportunity;
To endure, to embrace,
To discern and to decept;
Hard to believe if someone is so perfect,
Profound, professed and as if totally impressed.

None ever knew at the furthest,
I would be actually a bait, who was made to wait;
Blown, smashed, kicked and tricked,
My blood just turned to asphalt at this extortion,
Now the time is laughing, seeing at this final distortion.
Damn!



Quavering Poet.
9th April ’08.
iquaver@gmail.com

Dwindled

It was a lovely lonely day,
sanely walking on hay;
Could feel a fete of dame-
stood next to the bush in lame.


Relished in her fame and I basked in for a glory,
anticipating embarkment of my love story;
Soon I fetched some negus in my hand to proffer,
I walked towards her-
she stood stranded,
couldn't look at her grimace,
as her hairs were twisted
and the bright robe reflected.

On my approach she saw me through impediment,
the roaches added much more embellishment;
With a holy grin she took the goblet-
fumed it and splashed on my hatchet;
She ran in glee and hid behind the tree,
peeked at me and could hear her say
" will you be always with me? "



Quavering Poet.
29th Feb ’08.
iquaver@gmail.com

Intoxicated

Thinking of just grace in the mind,
To be frivolous and freak of a weird kind;
Bind with avarice life goes baffling in love,
Raffling off conscious, caprice and hove.

Vagrant heart just wonks in her thoughts,
Haunts and bonks, scattering all over my nerves;
As if it deserves a covet dream, where she gleams amidst the rain,
And I get the strike of cocaine bleeding all over my vein.



Quavering Poet.
1st Feb ’08.
iquaver@gmail.com

Hell or Heaven

It was ain’t a bummer that holy summer,
It was a mere frustration, dying out of starvation,
Couldn’t see her cry out of fear,
All that I could do is wipe her tears.

We both had a fixed final destination,
In such a weird situation;
I stood beside her like a phenom,
Having only a drop of venom;

My texture altered to be selfish asking her last wish,
It was just in moments that I took her life instant,
Strangled and watched the light leaves her eyes,
Spangled and I gulped the deadly venom,
My soul flies, seeing her dead eyes
Asking -
“Hell or Heaven”



Quavering Poet.
14th Jan ’08.

Beauty from Strathspey . . .

That fine dusk in my garden
Smelled of musk from Arden,
What so calm and what so pleasant,
She looked like palm n cream moon crescent.

I went near like a dopey
She jumped like a deer in spokey;
I gave her the berry which was grapey
She took it and told "you look like pompey".
She then stood and performed the Strathspey;
All the time with her was joyous n gay.

Quavering Poet.
9th Jan ’08.

I Quavered . . .

I remember that sacred dawn,
When I used to be a trimmer,
In the garden known for it’s primmer;

In the pond I just caught a glimpse of glimmer,
But in between, the flash was dimmer,
Cos there sailed a light blue skimmer;

When I went near it just moved in grimmer,
And I felt my blood in simmer,
It creaked " who are you oh Zimmer?"
And it went gagging and smiling when I Quavered,
“Oh! You swimmer, I am the HUMMER OF THE POET CALLED SHIMMER”



Quavering Poet.
7th Jan ’08.