'Crushed' Casanova

The city bus is a wonderful thing,
Many a beautiful girl in it can you see.
Some college guys in it funny songs sing.
The crowd resembles fish in the sea.

In my second year of bachelor's degree did I see a girl.
She was so pretty and looked like an angel.
Her hair wasn't straight and had many a curl;
In her charming eyes and dimples I instantly fell.

She studied in a college exclusively for women.
Often did I see her when she got into my bus.
Then would I feel like floating in heaven.
But, it's a pity I couldn't show my prowess.

One day, I wore a blue-striped shirt.
Fortunately, I looked so smart that day.
With her magnetic sight did she slyly flirt.
I just couldn't keep my excitement at bay.

Days passed by, and she continued to do it
Even when she was with many of her friends.
A candle of joy in my heart she lit.
Oh! Those moments thinking about a girl a young man spends!

I wanted to talk to her,
The beauty whose name I didn't even know.
'Anjali.. Anjali', did my heart whisper.
That's the name I gave to that doe.

My friends were aware that
On her I had a crush.
Nothing else conspired but
The memories are still fresh.

After a few months, did I gather the courage
To talk to 'Anjali', the pretty college girl.
Knew not I of the damage
That would eventually unfurl.

I followed her one day
And said, "Excuse me".
She turned around and did spray
Some angry looks on me.

Now with her eyes she said,
"F*** off you moron!"
Fury in those eyes I read
And thus decided to move on.

Later did I find out
She was older than me.
My lips made an invisible pout;
That's how fate mocked at me.

I understood the origin
Of the mystery word 'crush'.
That's where angels fear to tread in,
While fools readily rush.

Thus was I 'crush'ed by a very cruel girl.
Thank god, it wasn't love that would twist and twirl*!


* - twists and twirls the lover's heart

Haunted

I vowed to not write love poems
Atleast until I fall in love with someone else.
But how can I
When I haven't forgotten her yet?
There have been days when hope was my food,
Hope was my medicine.
But these days, hope is my hemlock,
Hope is my source of guilt.

Irony,
I thought I'd be writing in the same manner*
On a different muse.
But here I am,
Writing in a different manner
On the same muse.

Love doesn't die,
And so wouldn't I.


* - as in happy love poems on a different person.

A Sonnet to my Senorita

Love wrapped me with its extant wings;
I've decided to leave it not.
Boundlessly out of my heart it springs,
In its circle of magic have I been caught.
Inside my heart its sweet sound rings,
Devoid of it life is naught.
Love forgets not, it always brings
Pleasures that men have sought.

Senorita! Whoever thou art,
Together let's lead a happy life.
Let the love in us not rot.
When we're struck by Cupid's dart
Treasures are rife.
So love me, and leave me not.

Invitation

It's difficult to forget whatever ensued.
I'd have felt better had I been a stranger till the end.
Moving on is indeed tough.
The breeze brushes my cheeks only when I'm alone.

I'm a loser,
I'm happy it's a love game that I lost.
But after all, I'm human too.
Cannot resist my fury,
Cannot resist my sorrow.
I only hope the next time I get a candy
That's not laced with cyanide.

Many things I come across remind me of her;
Remind me of a dream.
One man's duet.
One man's dream.

Why do I feel like an unwelcome guest?
Visiting without an invitation does end in vain.
Mayhap I should wait for an invitation.

In the end, waiting is absolutely worth it
Only if I'm invited for celebration unlimited.

Fragment of an Incomplete Soul

Beginning from the day we met,
Events infinite have ensued.
Similar thoughts and tastes made us bond.
The passage of time made us grow fond (of one another).

Finding a person who reflects us,
Rarely do we find such a great mirror.
Instilling sense when we make a fuss,
Elevating the spirit when we make an error.
Not just a fragment of an incomplete soul.
Devoid of him/her life's but a gaping hole.

Going Away

I'm giving up
In my quest for love.
Once did I get it.
Again won't I?
It came in search of me
When it was least expected.
I'm not going to expect anymore.

What causes my desperation?
Is it the nymph that I loved?
Is it the nice feeling it gave?
No, it's the very name 'love'.
It's the need I have for love.
Not that I feel hated.
Not that I feel hurt.
There's so much of love in me;
I don't have someone to share it with.

But I've made up my mind.
I'm giving up
In my quest for love.
It strikes when it's least expected.
I'll embrace it when it comes.