A Memory Relived

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pigeons on sidewalks

pink-eyed naivete roving
over cobblestone indifferences,
echoing with autumn’s mandarin sighs
or finger-painted in whimsical umbras
and joining with pothole lyrics
in tempest’s serenades
seek grains of sustenance,
on barren concrete.

she walks over to
onyx creatures brocading
brooding afternoons in flutters,
to fill her emptiness
with ambiguous mutterings
reverberating amid
preoccupied skyscrapers.

she shares warmth
and her unvoiced contemplations,
those memories of a backyard
where pigeons had composed
aubades for dawns
miming sakura’s laughter,
and sung lullabies to sun
retreating at twilight~

revived as pigeons grumble
at crowds without sympathy and leisure
to share a few grains and words.

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Doves on Temple Footsteps…

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doves1

chiaroscuros of orange fluidities
splashed in abstract echoes
of whispered psalms of devotion
on marble pedestals of temples’ piety
scented in harsingar’s hymns,
add radiance to extinguishing twilights
like dying sighs of saffron cinders
peppered in soft subtleties over
chilled moments strewn in vague umbras.

on volatile crepuscules
like molten emotions of infinite skies,
scattered with crumpled-thought clouds
as waste paper on concrete,
sublime doves grunt and grumble
in syllables of puzzling ambiguities,
as pink beaks peck at
discovered grains of sustenance,
complaining at human meanness
which forgets the hunger of others
while satiating its own greed.

they hopscotch on sun-singed grass
and flutter wings in brief haiku flights,
sprinkling their rage on dusk
like bread crumbs on face of existence,
as a glutton night swallows
the yolk sun in a large mouthful,
I sit on the deserted temple steps
watching pigeons redefine poetry in motion
and scatter palms full of rice grains for
these feisty creatures to savor in delight
and their softly cooed thanks
enhances the sweetness of
the ringing chimes of temple bells…

doves