Poetry Archives Bio


October 24, 2005

Lo! 'Tis name of a goddess - mine alone,
The one that stands before me, fair and fresh,
The one who gives me purpose and the flesh
Of one to whom I purpose now return.

Graceful she is, and lithe, forever young.
Speak not her name, lest she cut off your tongue.
Her eyes in fervour sparkle: sky and ocean,
Her breath moves like the wind, in curious motions.

She runs untamed, plays HL2 with ease.
Her mother's love—mere fourty-eight degrees,
Herself, she fourty-eight sustains,
Despite hot rooms (no water in her veins).

She flows with XviD, ripping DVDs
With feather'd ease, in mere two hours' time.
And now, Pandora, I stand on my knees
Before thee, now thy secrets shall be mine.