Scents of Naiveté 

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syllables uttered
by variegated gossiping wildflowers,
to an uncouth morning
fenced in swaying bamboo groves,
are like perfumed sighs
from chiseled hourglass of essence
sprayed in rancid space to erase
smudges of claustrophobia.

smell of mango blossoms
abloom under foliage draperies,
are flowered promises
of luscious tanginess
bottled into sunshine pickles,
and golden sweetness
poured into chilled glasses
for parched sensitivities.

a pie baking in oven
whispers sumptuous aromas,
like a cherished dream evolving,
a browned moment
burnished and crisp,
cooked with flavor of affection
to enhance radiance of festivities
and make life special.

under sly gaze of pale moon
hursinghars bloom
filling fragrance in nostrils
of moonlit quietude,
to be scattered on face
of dawn as petals of devotion
for rising aureate sun.

falling rain tappers,
puttering as a busybody
with kitchen utensils,
on stark, corrugated rooftops,
playing rain-chimes
on potholes with their fluidities,
and sprinkling humid breath
over freshly laundered realms,
reminiscent of brewing
cardamom tea in earthen cups
and spicy fries within
porcelain palms.

scent of September
molting its old songs in bronze,
strung as nutmeg rosary beads
on threads of existence,
are symbolic of maple’s angst
and penury of humus strewn days~
when roasted marshmallows
and cooking cinnamon rolls
add taste to bland palates.

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Thoughts Brewed in my Kitchen

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tea leaves bleed
aromatic synonyms in water
as it bubbles to fill
piquant anticipations in gaze
of lethargic, mist-draped winters,
poured into chiseled transparencies,
insinuating russet delights
of sweet apple cider.

cookie crumbles
voicing soft innuendoes
of honeyed pleasures,
unheeded by a tongue rolling
in hurriedly munched bites
tinged in caffeinated sips
as preoccupations enshroud
sensibilities of an overwrought mind.

as currency crisp afternoon
crumble like stale scones,
into twilights crocheted in wildflowers,
warming cold-numbed fingers
over brewing warmth of coffee
I rifle through lists of ingredients
needed for impending supper.

appetizing breath of curry
fills the blandness of shivering nights,
preening in starry tiarras,
as moments shell and crunch
their oxymoron moods
like fire-kissed peanuts,
seasoned in finger-licking spices
luring gluttony from
routine monotony of dinner table.

ice-creams relax
their realms undiluted by winter nights
cuddled in snowflake sighs,
while hot chocolate sauce laces
their frozen dreams in passion,
and chilled spoonfuls
are gulped in rapture
to frill cold in icy pleasures.