Kiss

Kiss

• to touch or press with the lips slightly pursed, and then often to part them and to emit a smacking sound, in an expression of affection, love, greeting, reverence etc.
• to express a thought, feeling, etc., by a contact of the lips:

Santonu

November rain soaked the dry leaves on the streets on this cloudy morning. A tumble of water was just froze in his eyes. The Gulmohar with all the protruded roots gave him the perfect bed to lie down. Wind was blowing and carrying the rain drops away from him, not all, his blank face was also getting the chill of wind and the rain, only if he could feel it. He cried all through the night and through the dawn, the tears froze only when time kissed him bye…

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Richa

Waiting ….Agonising…Cracking

Dry parched lips…..

Gathering…..Darkening…Rolling

Hitting the land with a hiss

Melting….Embracing….Hugging

The earth-rain first kiss

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Anahita Dordi

Seven year old Riya was lying on the bed of the general w

ard of the hospital. She was suffering from Blood Cancer, had undergone blood transfusion and now was on heavy medication. Doctors weren't very sure if sh

e would cope up. If yes, life would be normal for the little kid. If no, then severe problems for the entire family.

Her mother saw to it that she timely swallowed her medicines. Once after her routine her mother kissed Riya's forehead. A smile immediately stretched acro

ss Riya's face. Since that day daily after her meals and medicines Riya would insist her mother to kiss her forehead.

Weeks passed and Riya completely recovered. Her mother too

k her back home. She hugged Riya and said, "My little small warrior! Always remember you are a strong girl. You fought bravely and responded well to the medicines too."

Riya replied….. I hated the medicines mummy, I just responded to your kisses.

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Truth Dude

the art of missing

I miss her kiss
her lovely smile,
her double tight squeezes
her silken sighs.

I wander alone
on a journey together.
She walks her own path
even though she's with me forever.

Cliched it sounds
but it is a fact.
She peers into my soul,
I kiss her, with tact.

Alone through the night
and busy during the day.
Her tempting lips part
and she leads me astray

from the path I've walked on
for how long I do not know.
But I'll gladly leave it for you,
baby, I miss you so!

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NM

He walked through the customs… thinking about her… about the fight…
She talked over the phone… it was the last customer… of that very night…
He was going to leave her… for a very, very long year…
She was going to miss him… she knew she had done a sin…
He lounged back in his seat… listening to her favorite song…
She rolled over in her bed… she knew she was wrong…
They both were thinking…
About the same thing…
Their egos had made them miss…
That one last goodbye kiss.

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Sarang

‘What now?’ Shehnaz’s scared whisper filled the telephone booth.
‘Soon a bus will take us far from our families,’ Arun’s voice quivered.
‘What if they–’
‘They’ll never catch us,’ he grabbed her shoulders. ‘We’ve made arrangements.’

A minute passed.

‘Girl, can I kiss you?’
‘On my lips.’ She thought it would lessen her fear.

But before that, an angry voice jolted them, ‘Look in there.’ And the door opened; out stood cops and Shehnaz’s brothers.

‘So… we come to it,’ she said in tears.
He kissed her one her cheek… then their lips locked, passionately.

When the devil hands parted them, their necks dropped.

‘Perhaps, there was potassium cyanide on girl’s cheek’, whispered a cop after some time.

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Dok Saab

Muaahhhhhhhh !!
I could feel the warm thick betel juice trickling down my cheeks.
She tightened her arms around me.
You are choking me , I tried to squirm out, but by the time she planted another wet kiss on my lips. I could feel the sweet musty fragrance of saffron with a tinge of tobacco.
Dadi leave me , I am not a kid now.
Oh yes my Ram, my Kishan, Dabbo told me that you have become a big doctor now.
At last, she let me go.
Marry soon, I want to kiss your son before I die. And tell your wife I'll beat her if it is a girl.
She was very strong for an eighty year old. And she always greeted me with a forced kiss whenever I met her.
How I hated her messy kisses.
.
.
.
The room was filled with fragrant smoke of guggul.
I saw her sleeping on the mat. She looked divine.
I bent over her and took her in my arms.
Dadi, why don't you kiss me today. Look I have my son with me too.
I pressed my cheeks on her lips. They were cold.
I tightened my embrace around her. She slipped away.
How much I yearned for her kiss.
A wet kiss filled with betel juice, smelling of saffron.

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Mandappa KC

Mornin folks, I cheerily greet thee

With black eyes and broken bones three

The konfessioners are back and so is me

But here's the story of this new spree

Kiss is the word they did choose

So I asked around like Big Moose

What's a kiss? Can I get one from you?

Sitting there with a hat so blue?

I walked around, asked far and wide

Girls I knew of every hip size

Smack! One on my forehead and on my back

Til' they got together and tied me in a sack

The smack was more a whack indeed

Left, right and thrashed like weed

Writhing in pain, in my pant I piss

So warm and tender, is this kiss?

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The Dark Poet

(Note:-- This one was ‘subject to approval’)

She's dark

and has a soul of steel

she knows how to love, and how to do it without fear

she has hair that dance n sing

they lay on his pillow in the morning

like a storm

he plays with em

twirls his clumsy sinner's finger and watches the curls unravel

she's beautiful, not sexy

celestial, a cherub

She smiles and it's not perfect

but he thinks it is

she fits into his arms n chest perfectly

they're a jigsaw

they always make love

and then she tip toes around on the wooden oak floor

she sings averagely

but he finds it beautiful

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Konfessioner Singh

“Parting to merge

allowing liquid heat to seep…

As waves of tumult

exalt:

in me sight

in you lust…”

Gasping in the middle of the night she touches the dry curves, resting a finger on the bow only to taste black ink…remembering the notes.

“I send you three kisses. One for your heart, one your lips and the last your eyes…”

She concentrates on what Napoleon wrote to Josephine. Constantly composing her own rhyme… Trying hard to remember how it had felt, the exact pressure, the smell of the rain…did it rain? She lies back down, tucking the sheets under her heels swallowing a forgotten memory and remembering only that it never did rain…and she wasn’t and would never be Josephine.

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