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I wrote a poem on Krishna. It talks about the mischievousness of Krishna, how he is shy(inspired by one of his qualities as mentioned in the nectar of devotion) and more. I have, as far as possible, abided by the statements of Prabhupada, the scriptures on Krishna. I hope this poem doesn't offend anyone or gives the feeling of sahajiya tendencies. This is a poem revolving around a gopi and Krishna(not any gopi in particular. I'm NOT claiming that I'm a gopi in anyway. Wrote it in 1st person, if that makes sense). I REALLY hope it doesn't offend ANY devotee in ANY way. If it does, even in the slightest way, I beg for forgiveness at your feet. It is a very long poem. I hope you enjoy as much as I did writing. Let me know how the poem is! Your insignificant servant, Apoorva 

In a meadow of blossoming buds,

-A canavas of gentle hues,

And fuzzy balls of sunny yellow

And midnight black

-Hovering for ecstatic nectar,

I pluck each tender bud

-like the gentle rain to the parched earth

Soft like butter -and fresh with dew

Its fragrance intoxicating to the soul,

Like amrutha for the devas

I hum a melodious tune

-unintentionally Raghava's tune,

My heart beating with it

-like the gentle waves in ecstatic sea

The lotus bloom

-as blue as the sky and gentle as the breeze

Reminds me of navanita chora

-the stealer of my heart and sins

The morning daisy

-as white as the cow's milk,

Reminds me of the mighty Balabhadra

-Who dragged the fragile Yamuna towards Him

Ah! What a bliss to have eyes anointed with the salve of love!

Ah! Speak of the devil

-the devil among rascals

Sauntering among the delighted cows

His radiant face a fit epitome of ecstatic bliss

-must be from stealing soft and sumptuous butter let me tell you!

And like the deva of the 14 worlds,

He blows his mighty buffalo bugle,

Signaling the cows to come home to the land of Vraja

His gaze drifts to my side

-like hummingbird to the flower

And he lifts his one eyebrow

-capable of annihilating the cosmos and the stars

A young and delicate butterfly

-as young as the white calf, now stomping their anklets non stop,

Rests on his garland of forest flowers

-offered by bhudevi herself to her darling madanamohana

His red finger supports the limbs of the butterfly

But oh!

His lotus eyes drift to my side

-like a gentle summer shower,

That I drop my basket of flowers,

Feeling bashful and gaze down like a shy bride

The same butterfly

-now ecstatic with unlimited bliss,

Sits perched on my shoulder

-like a gift frim bhuvanamohana

I look up slowly

-time non existent,

To see the mighty Baladev

Winking at his dear brother,

Whose cheeks are now red

And looking away,

Like it was nothing

But it was something indeed

The gods have been kind

I now gaze at the joyous butterfly

-now flying high up into the limitless heavens,

Catching the attention of the fortunate witnesses

In a meadow of blossoming buds,

I breathe a sigh-

The sigh of a beloved