Caffeinated Moments…

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cooling porcelain heels
on moonlit contours
of brooding, insomniac silences,
it breathes
aromatic syllables
of caffeine promises-
alluring lethargy
with mirages of agility,

an addicted tongue
basks in bittersweet flavors,
while the pulse races
like a tired horse
flogged into swiftness
on wings of transient surge
of whimsical adrenaline.

Meaningless

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With years having peeled off
the trunk of existence
like scaling bark of eucalyptuses,
revealing ditch-water realities
beneath silver veneer of invulnerability~
naivete of the juvenile,
myopic fading eyes
find vision along with crow-feet
to acknowledge difference
between shimmering mirages on asphalted lies
and lilting laughter of
a brook benevolently quenching thirst.

Sandpaper mornings
seek to polish tarnished smiles
pasted on visages of insomnia,
as reminiscing hot delicacies from a table
long sold, I gulp down coffee
for both agility and anorexia,
while an angelic smile of innocence
embellishes my drab day in sequins of delight
to fill the emptiness within
with nectarine hope.

Follies of a careless youth
haunt tired days seeking reprieve,
trying to cram insides of racing moments
with activity, I search for oblivion,
for fulfillment in an insipid life~
singed , shriveled and battered.

Once where fluorescent dreams floated,
now umbras of pain fleet,
casting eerie silhouettes on days~
the clock beckons
me an automaton
bleached by circumstances
of hues, aroma and intrigue~
integral for living–as I keep existing
for yet another day
— a meaningless phrase
yet to be erased…

Between Teacups and Clotheslines…

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Curls escape like wayward whims
from a stoic bun of stolid indifference,
as sweat beads pepper
furrowed brow of worry
like water droplets on lotus leaves,
trickling down oft to imitate
defrosted sigh of winter,
flowing down glass panes at noon.

Hands wrinkled, weather-beaten,
resembling that of her grandmother
–having endured many a frothy tussle,
wear rings dulled and faded by time
like sepia photographs in dogeared albums,
now wedded to fingers forever
and beyond~ only to be rotated in
fuming moments of urgency.

Within flour canisters she hides
meager savings of bargain and thrift
~ like miser’s gold-pot buried underground,
while she reigns supreme as a sorceress
surrounded by luscious aromas and flavors,
wielding her spatula as a wand
to create magical delights on fire-flames.

Humming fractured lines of lyrics
half-forgotten and fabricated,
she talks oft to herself just to ensure
that her solitude has not maimed
those long learnt conversation skills~
disuse atrophy perhaps?
For dinnertime woes and complaints
are hardly versatile enough
to qualify as a dialogue.

Refereeing squabbles and pillow fights,
absentminded daily appointments with soap operas
just to forget her petty troubles,
while the needle knit patterns of affection
for limbs long outgrown
as she fails to steal moments of respite,
the ticking moments befriend
her insomnia as she ponders
on impending problems
in murmured prayers for survival…

Snippets from a Wallflower’s Life..

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within drab vases she displayed
the simplest of wildflowers plucked
not for the exotic uniqueness
she professed to treasure
but to prevent any comparisons
being drawn in beauty,
while her trusty but ugly potpourri
added fragrance.

drawn curtains
and shimmering candlelight,
to concoct an aura of romance
or to spin a reticulum
of silhouettes and mystique
to envelope
her less than average looks
within gossamer allure
of magic and mystery.

with her laconic words
her taciturn attitude she sought
to discourage closeness,
lest informality and warmth
breed contempt for one
who cold never be
but a firefly beneath
velvet skies sequined and bejeweled
in poetic fantasies.

while always blending
into anonymity,
like the shadow which holds
a flame in its  palm,
she was the calyx in a rosebud~
holding the petals together,
the silence which enhances
sweetness of a lark’s melody.

retstraint and stoic control
defined her,
she was a wallflower
who was too scared to yearn
for ephemeral fragrance,
despite her thirst to breathe
redolence into bland breeze
like the bowers of flowers
she has always secretly envied…

SEASONS…

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SPRING
She is aureate smile of daffodil
as it awakens from winter-lorn siesta
on a crisp peppermint morn
after apparently scores of dawns,
draped in misted confusions.

The soft lilting rhapsody
of a skylark as it senses fragrance
in flowing realms of zephyr
and sings to welcome floral delights.

She is lingering sigh of sakura
which blossom in redolent brevity
~ haiku penned by nature’s quill
on to be mouthed and scattered
in scented syllables
by a vociferous breeze.

Drizzling symphony of clouds
seeking to pepper petal-cheeks in gems-
as perfumed boudoir of Zephyrus,
enamors their vagrant souls.

SUMMER

Her laughter echoes in rippling gait
of cascading mountain brooks,
which flow down chiseled verdure
when a belligerent sun frowns.

She is infatuation
of a love-struck sunflower,
reiterating celestial path of Helios
with entranced gaze of one hypnotized.

She is fragrance of mango blossoms
which herald anticipations
of luscious, golden delights
soon to ripen on boughs of desire.

She is the elusive mirage
fleetingly cheating visions
on asphalted paths,
when light plays conjurer
on some harsh, perspiring noon.

AUTUMN

She is auburn whisper of nostalgia
withering from bony fingers
of geriatric mendicancy,
echoing on dusty trails
in cinnamon-scented ambiguity.

She is placid grin carved
on juicy melons of reality,
to concoct dancing shadows on
stark lamps of veracity.

She is the swiftness of squirrels
eagerly hoarding nuts,
only to be forgotten restart
another xylem-phloem equation,
while golden wheat-dreams rippen.

She is the mandarin moon
seen perched on nude branches,
delighting in the vista
of enceinte fields afore harvest.

WINTER

She is the sepia morning,
apparently bleached of flavors and hues,
awakening lethargically to
steaming lure of caffeine~
seen through frosted panes
fingerprinted by wind’s shivers.

She is warmth of blazing hearth
and blankets coaxing agility to laze,
on afternoons veiled in fog
while nostrils delight in scents
of roasted peanuts and brewed hot cocoa.

She the flavor of green peas
shelled in bowls like moments of leisure,
the aroma of greens permeating from
a kitchen’s larder of allure.

She is the forbidden pleasure
of ice-creams savored in the chill
when snowflakes cover foliage rustles
like children after pillow tussles,
and fingers are numbly beg for sunshine.

Straits of Slumber  

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Lying with troubles cradled

on softness of cuddly pillows,

eyelids droop as sleep

lulls thought and action alike,

cajoling them into dormant slumber,

while in the straits of somnolence

psychedelic dreams concoct fairy tales.

Unfulfilled desires, unrequited cravings,

conspire with unrestrained imagination

to spin fragments of silken fantasy,

which come together in vibrant patterns

on magical kaleidoscope of Somnus,

letting hopes and lusts bloom

like daffodils drinking honey

from golden cauldron of the heavens.

With the wildest of magical things,

future telling orbs, flying horses, castles of sweets,

trees telling stories and rivers of molten gold,

that never attainted in reality germinates

and blossoms on dreamland’s fertility,

such that the pain of failure

is benumbed by the salve of fantasy.

Hallucinations and delusions

strewn in the alleys of Morpheus,

smudge their traces on fairy-tales spun

as dawn-kissed candy-floss,

tasting like honeydew on palate of fancy,

unicorns, pixies, mermaids and witches,

together inhabit this land of oneiroi,

where jaded practicalities of existence

are sugar-coated in saccharine granules

of fantasy and mystique.

Fairy-tales of Meads

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Wisteria in Rapunzel tendrils,
wearing shades of dusk’s husky laughter,
in mauve, violet and lavender,
hangs its curly mane on chiseled silences,
for flirtatious moths to ascend
humming rhapsodies of desire.

The butterflies vain on dainty wings
flutter in scented zephyr,
preening themselves in dewy mirrors,
to hail themselves as
the prettiest of all those alive.

The love story of Clytia reiterates itself
from dawn to crepuscule
in the enamored gaze of lovelorn sunflower,
who droops at variegated twilight
to simulate the slumber of Sleeping beauty,
awaiting the golden kiss of prince sun.

The rose blushes in throes of first love,
basking in sunshine and drizzle
enthralled by the sublime melodies of lark,
it dreams of falling in love,
like the princess imprisoned in a castle,
until the robin with passion in its breast
paints rainbows on the canvas of its desires.

When snow drapes soil’s sunburns
salving its blistered realms,
from fertility’s womb emerges the daffodil,
as a fragrant, fragile snow white,
brightening the drab environs
with stardust sequined smiles,
under the shade of the dwarf-like boughs
covered in candy-floss snow.

Savoring these fairy-tales of nature,
unfolding in fragments of fancy
the soul is rejuvenated and spirit lightened
leaving tranquil symphony floating
in the depths of jaded existence.