Poetry is Born…

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as a sighed bubble
of prismatic syllables,
floating in
firefly strewn sunshine,
bursting within
the grasp of moments
to splatter dewdrops
of transience
on the face of noon~

poetry is born
to momentarily adorn
straits of the commonplace.

when a jaundiced thought,
wizened by reverie
speckled in variegated shades
of sentiments,
withers from
boughs of contemplation,
to scribe in dialect
scented and dulcet,
on the extensive papyrus
of nature~

poetry evolves,
a cinnamon epistle
audible in the whispers
of nutmeg fall,
the silent vigil
of topaz moon of harvest.

Bland Are The Moods of Winter

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Benign and blameless~
the mist clad, bland morn of December,
like a lingering gasp of cerise,
yearns for polychromatic epistles
scribbled on canvas of March,

Robbed of lush verdure
after transient lure of burnished golds,
denuded boughs shiver beneath
quilting heaps of winking snowflakes in
the faint honeydew sunshine.

Within frostbitten soil’s depths
the daffodil bulbs slumber
dreaming golden dreams,
while the meads hanker after
colors and fragrances of flowers.

Nights are silent
and draped in mystical fog,
unspeckled in stardust sighs
and the moon finds solace from
nocturnal vigil under
blankets of cotton wool clouds.

Its hues faded, lost, stolen,
a colorless winter
broods in its armchair of nostalgia,
reminiscing of bygone
versicolor springs
golden summers and cinnamon falls…

Lines of a Reborn Dream…

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Along flamingo circumference
of a blossoming morn,
lingers like silver remnant moon
a withered dream~
reminiscent of fallen flowers
of saffron-sublime hursinghars
or a fish stranded ashore
~dead and forgotten,

She picks it up in her caress
salving its sores
with honeyed syllables of hope,
singing nurturing rhapsodies
sequined in photons,

as a fledgling with wings
nascent and unfurled,
she croons it with lullabies
reverberating in quietude
of early light~
putting its daydreams to sleep.

Her fingers like paint brushes
of fantasy dapple
obscure hydrangea blues
in versatile rainbows
~ephemeral and evanescent
adding novelty to the commonplace,

She adorns her horizons
in peacock plumule~
snatches of elusive nature’s verse
her laughter echoing
in prismatic verbiage like
secret dialect of fluttering
butterflies’ wings.

Angel Whispers…

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glistening emotions
shimmer forlorn and lonely
on obsidian cheeks
in the gasp of insomnia,

to trickle down
cornflower blues at morn
to sequin the face
sleeping turquoise bay

or pepper prismatic dewdrops
on lips of shy rosebuds.

flamingo dawn
sheds feathers of cerise,

camouflaging mixed palette
of feelings, to don
serenity of swan plumage.

a drowsy sunflower
dozing on
drooping stalk of lethargy,

awakens to wet caress
of fingers of morning mist,

to wear photons
in its smile of scented whimsy.
as simile of a love-song.

secrets
of evanesced dreams
lingers as lunar sigh on azure,
to whisper
fancy of the angels
in the silence of citrus morn…

An November Morning

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An orphaned moon
lingers as an un-wiped tear
on bland brim of ughten,
as night blends into nothing~
scattering night-jasmines
on the bosom of sleeping earth.

azaleas, carnations n’ orchids,
blossom is fragrant celestial bowers
on sapphire clarities,
a perplexed sun awakens
with aureate yawn pulling
flimsy curtains of candyfloss clouds.

morning breeze sprinkles
dewdrops on sleepyhead roses~
a mother getting her children
out of bed and streaming dreams.

dewy grass tickles freshness
on her nude soles,
as she basks in warm treacle sunshine
photons are sequined on
tangled hair like wayward thoughts
to spin halos in early light.

tea leaves bleed
burnished fluidities in water,
and mixed with lemon juice
it leaves a citrus kiss emblazoned
on her thirsty lips,
as she savors untasted flavors
of a naive morn,
crisp as a golden croissant.