Verses of Winter

Standard

Coriander breath
sighed by a huddled kitchen
warming itself
in gasps of frostbitten stove,
blends in citrus honeydew realms
of a gossamer winter morn.

somewhere
pea-pods pop out syllables
of a sumptuous delight,
to flavor insipid
moments of bleached twilights.

empty vases
yearn for daffodil daydreams
prematurely spawned
afore March,

eggs Benedicts congeal
on frozen porcelain moments,
while a lukewarm coffee
patiently cools
tired heels on tiles of boredom.

like a morsel
unswallowed and clogging
throat of contemplation,
a poem begs to burp
out its words in varied decibels

~ a pent up thought
scribbling itself on chameleon clouds
to emblazon the innermost emotions
of winter in hues of autumn…

Lines of a Reborn Dream…

Standard

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.

An November Morning

Standard

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.

Café au lait moments…

Standard

café au lait moments
frothy, bittersweet and creamy
flavored in variegated thoughts
peppered in sugar granules
blending with moody coffee spoonfuls

~are whispers of a carefree youth
when thoughts hopscotched
through redolent sunshine
and rain-song laced rainbows,

playing peek-a-boo through oriels
of intrigue and adventure,
casting dices in virgin oblivion
to challenge uncertain fate,

letting versicolor balloons
kiss austere and cornflower horizons
like myriads of potpourri emotions
scattering themselves–

their shades
painted o’er bland chiaroscuro
of mixed feeling existence
~a dusk frozen within
a bubble of time.

caffeine is
a calligraphy of hues,
it breathes fragrance in sinews
of a drab chequered verses
born of juvenile imaginations,
filling freshness
within drooping eyelids
of long, languid hours…

Dusk to Dawn…

Standard

amethyst skies
at crepuscular hour
are reflected on sapphire waters,
as epistles of poetic calligraphy
resonating with versatile hues,

when the topaz sun
is gobbled as mandarin morsel
and periwinkle heights
pantomime a giant chrysoberyl,
of oxymoron shades
soon blending into
an obsidian night.

the opal moon
ailing with insomnia pours over
ivory, printed volumes,
in long hours of silent onyx night,
and the diamond stars
effulgent above peer at the lovers
painting rainbow dreams
within molasses of eyelashes.

budding chartreuse whispers
kiss fringes of
a blossoming tourmaline dawn,
the sky like an armful of scented orchids
with a silver lunar sliver
on the distant aquamarine,
like a half forgotten love song
lingering on edge of reverie.

Poetry is…

Standard

Poetry is a stargazer~ admiring
constellations through
telescopic metaphorical adjectives,
gathering stardust on
fingertips addicted to printed word,
having verbs and nouns
sticking to them like ink,
and clutching a singed symphony fallen
from flaming comet-tails.

Poetry is a painter~
playing with consonant pastels,
watercolors blossom
on the canvas of reality,
using the crayons of simile
it plays on aisle and blank paper
every emotion or thought
finds shades and appearance in
the brush strokes of poetry.

Poetry is a gardener,
using tools of versatile imagery
to brocade blossoms on verdure,
fragrance born from flowers
floats above to scribble
verses on bosom of twilight,
toiling to nurture
saplings of metaphors,
watering them with adjectives
and redolent vowels budding
on the stalks of imagination,
pruning the wayward and commonplace
to be-ribbon flowers
in gerund intricacies to form
a bouquet of redolent poem.

Summer’s Mischief

Standard

Summer is a juvenile boy,
hopscotching with pebbles
on afternoons strewn in
quixotic cricket’s rhapsodies,
and butterflies fluttering
salsa delights,

He scatters and gathers
moments like sparkling marbles,
winking in honeyed sunshine~
wearing a hat pinned in sunflowers
he guffaws his laughter
to flower into mustard blossoms.

On hibiscus-tinted dawns~
scented in mango blossom verses,
he sequins delphinium bays
in constellations,
spilling his moody eructations
on azure clarities
to crayon vibrant dusks.

he offers naive faith
in night jasmine filled palms,
tolling bells of worship
on temple steps of tranquility,
fingerpainting rainbows
on kohl streaked blues,
he discovers flavor of first love
on adolescent tongue,
in peppered kisses of tempest.

playing peek-a-boo
with chameleon silhouettes,
he scribbles his secrets on clouds,
with the moon his ball
he aims to taint the night
in mud-stained shots…