HOME, SWEET HOME!

Home, Sweet Home!
This is my home where I feel
The Divine presence  every day!
It is  in the silent, subtle things:
The twinkle of my dad’s eye,
Which speaks volumes wordlessly
Of his love affair With my mother
Still stoked with love and passion.
Even after the silver jubilee
 Of their marriage celebrated recently.
It is in the gifts culled with loving hands
Which my mom gives me now and then
That nourish my spirit, flesh and soul.

It rises in the scent of delicious dishes
 Prepared by her, And also
In that extra slab of cheese
Which my dad puts on my plate.
It’s in the knowledge that each word  spoken here
 Is from the heart,honest and true ,
Oh, this is the love that is enduring,
Without any bounds or reservation,
And never an act of show.
It’s giving for the sake of giving
With no expectation but the joy of sharing,
And the delight of the imparting.
In all things, both big and small
Mutual love abounds all!

-Portia Burton

The Only True Poem

the sweet Beginning

Come, My angel!

Come, My Angel!
(this poem was written in a very gloomy mood some time back)

Daffodils

On Looking Out Of The Window

On Looking Out Of The Window

How I relish the leisurely walks taken
Around my granny's Grasmere village
On the misty mornings of the summer
Since they bring a smile to my lips
 And also fill me with  serious  thoughts.
I don't know why such thoughts come ,
Perhaps it's that solemn old cathedral
And the  grave of  poet Wordsworth  there,
Along with the memories of his poems
That lead me to muse about the Time's fell hand.
But when I return home in pensive mood
And wistfully look out of the  window
On these mysterious grey  mornings,
I suddenly find it to be an enchanting view..
The  inky black trees clothed in misty dew,
And suddenly two doves newly woke up
Perch on the window and look at me,
As if to beckon me to venture outside
And shake away that depressing gloom
By inhaling the fragrance of flowers in bloom.

-Portia Burton

My Angel

MY PRINCE

MY PRINCE
 I feel spell-bound and dizzy
When you smile at me.
You only made me realize
That it is quite possible
To have your breath taken away
Quickly and  suddenly,
Making your throat go dry
Without knowing why.
Now all my heart wants
Is to be with you,
In your arms, resting on your chest,
Your fingers caressing my tresses,
Wiping my tears,fondling my cheeks,
And you gently kissing my lips,
Assuring me and guiding me through
Life's tangles and harsh battles.
Helping me to understand
That you can't change the past,
Only focus on the future,
And now I know my future is:
You by my side forever,
Keeping me whole, keeping me safe.
O my love, I need you most
Because without you
My life would be dark,
Incomplete and empty
And I thank God everyday
For bringing you to me.
I tell you this now
That You will always be
My heart, my soul, my prince!

-Portia Burton

You Occupy Every Corner Of My Mind

You occupy every corner of my mind ..

You occupy every corner of my mind
I’ve never known desire of this magnitude,
Nor a love of this nature .
You’re the embodiment of everything
That I’ve ever wanted !
Your eyes pierce my soul ,
Mesmerizing in their intensity,
So richly passionate in their intent .
I just  stare into them
In speechless wonderment .
Your voice captivates my mind ,
I want to listen to you forever .
When your trembling fingers touch my body ,
I too tremble under the impact of your desire,
Oh, how they emanate a strange and fiery heat ,
Which as if melts me to merge into you
Until we become just one being !
I feel safe  and  protected now,
You grant me a loving safety I've never known.
And nothing can harm me when we are one.
Not in my wildest fantasies did I ever believe
That angels in human forms do really live,
That a love like this was even possible
That will gently remove  every nagging trouble.
But then you happened to me in the form of love,
Oh, take me to your heart as your  dove!

-Portia Burton

The Evening Scene...

The Evening Scene

Evening Scene...
As if a huge ant-hill has been broken,
A huge crowd spills onto the streets.
The faces of the men returning home
From work, some still seem  to be alive 
With the last pulse of hope or courage,  
Some sly and bitter, some smart and  silly,
But most of them already  broken and empty ,
Listless, devoid any warmth of life,  
Only blinding tiredness is goading them on,  
Like any tired animal with drooping tail
Sauntering disinterestedly to some safe corner.
-Portia Burton

An Old Photo

An Old Photo

Granny is sitting on her rocking chair
And showing me an album...
"Look", she says,
"This pouting baby is you,
 And this man smiling through
 The happy, crinkled eyes
 Is your grandfather..."
.....
She then turns some more pages,
And on coming across another photo
Of her resting her head on the chest
Of her loving husband,
She gently moves her trembling fingers
Over that photo as if caressing him,
Then gently closes that album
And smiles to herself bemusedly,
And looking out of the window,
Starts rocking her chair once again,
Silently fondling its arms.....

Though I know nothing much
About my grandfather,
Except for his grave, which by now
Is almost lost in the tall grass,
Yet I can see him in  granny's eyes,
Who is now perhaps feeling his touch
Through the arms of her chair.

-Portia Burton