Straits of Slumber  

Standard

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.

Advertisements

Fairy-tales of Meads

Standard

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.

Happy Endings…

Standard

Fairy tales are like fragments

of candy-floss dreams from realms of Morpheus,

concocting a kaleidoscopic delight

of fantasy and wistfulness,

to be savored by the gullible soul

with a faith in happy endings.

When the drab realities of life

its harshness, scars, bruises and emptiness,

make living an insipid chore

and dejection makes breathing tedious,

then some stolen moments

with a dog-eared treasure of magical lore

rejuvenates and heals,

reviving the fading belief in happy endings.

Fairy tales are like conjurer’s sleeves,

from whence emerge,

the unbelievable, fantastic and amazing,

a flying carpet, a talking mirror,

a fruit of immortality, a castle in the clouds,

the wildest of imagination

germinating on the fertility

of a storyteller’s canvas,

and yielding these arms of fantasy,

the pragmatic is slain

to enhance the flavor of existence,

as a smile glitters

to define yet another happy ending.