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.

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I Dreamed of Mother…

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colored tendrils
frozen on distant horizons,
like versicolor yarn
tangled in disarray
~reflecting confusions
of memories mutated
by whimsy of racing eons.

I saw her
face forgotten yet
familiar,
like a faded photo,

her smile like a wisp of fall
floating in potpourri draught,
or a sliver of silver
on uncompromising black
of fathomless night.

fingers yearned
to caress those contours
chiseled in reverie,
but palsied I stood,
mesmerized as a moth
in lantern light,

while she beckoned
with a promise of embrace
long hankered for.

like a rain-song
her presence satiated
the thirst for maternal love,
as my loneliness
was erased forever and beyond,

I relived those
scanty memories
nostalgia a rolling spool
of precious but elusive
moments captured
like fireflies in
in a crystal bottle,
spread prismatic winks
of delight.

her voice
echoed dwarfing
the distance of lost years,
butterflies fluttered
in a hue-filled fog,
my gaze filled
with anticipation
of love nurtured by love
of a mother
now my shadow…

Straits of Slumber  

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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.

Within Realms of a Dream

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within surreal dream,
my consciousness floats
dangling between
reality and fantasy as
a pendulum in sway,
life seems a fleeting array
of distorted images
etched by imagination,
as opaque becomes abstract
transparency is misted
by the dewdrops of fancy.

in chimerical avenues
of distorted misconceptions,
the mind sojourns
confounded entirely by
hallucinations and delusions,
warding away into the straits
of labyrinthine catacombs,
away from banks of
a flagrant, vibrant reality.

a nascent sliver of reality
lingers on the gossamer visage
of fluorescent surrealism,
and clawing at this straw
consciousness seeks in vain to
emerge from procellous realms
of grotesque nightmare
of schizophrenia…

Winter Spawns Spring’s Dream

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chill of wind’s invisible fingers covers
dry skin in goose pimples,
shivers woven into frostbitten thoughts
in a winter indulging
in reverie like a wizened old man
rocking on vague armchair introspections.

myopic, frost-beaded windows
peer at barren moments of january,
snowflakes falling like
shattered, stained-glass fragments
of a frozen rainbow stolen
from august’s mixed feeling skies,
while the colorless gardens
await in anticipation of graffiti spring.

daffodils and snowdrops
hibernate beneath silences of soil,
waiting to blossom into perfumed whispers
heralding spring’s carnival,
with chilled feet and cold-numbed fingers
and a burgeoning hope fluttering
in anticipation within my womb
like butterflies’ wings~

which etches my cheeks in blushes
I await the arrival of spring
and the feeling of motherhood,
like a rain-filled conch shell
awaiting the birth of a pearl.

Loving With Wisterias…

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fragrant wisterias
blossoming in chortling sunshine
of an exuberant summer,
are like lingering sighs
of spring twilights tapestried
in lavender whorls on clouds afloat
over cerulean heights.

they crept over ancient walls
on shadowy feet of redolence, to concoct
a verse of perfumed flowers
that reverberated with dreams of
a love which blossomed underneath
these mauve blooms of softness,
nurtured by their scented verses.

they grew up together
in that antiquated homestead,
love flowering in the realms of naiveté
as a nascent rainbow streaked
on blue-grey cheeks of
a tempestuous yet boisterous childhood,
or as a butterfly slowly evolving
within unseen chrysalis depths.

friendship metamorphosed
into love in soporific meads of adolescence,
like thunder storms changing into
honeyed symphonies of falling raindrops,
a blazing noon sky being
replaced by versatile hues of dusk
and the pink-lime foliage of mesua being
speckled in sublime flowers.

the silence of snowflakes
powdered over chiseled mountain backs,
is replaced gradually by
a rippling cascade of argent delights,
mischief of innocence now
becoming the sly innuendos of youth.

reading linguistics of gazes
enamored by a relation forged down years,
they together blended into
a confluence of entranced heartbeats
forming a novel yet exquisite melody,
while their togetherness
is scribed on papyrus of the fates,
with the silent wisterias
a witness of love’s juvenile dream.

he expressed his love
when at crepuscule not only the threshold
but also azure heavens were brocaded in
the beauty of wisterias,
her smile had the sheen of morning dew
her gaze reflecting
the fragrant song of a field
abounding in blooming lavenders.

she wore wisterias in her mane
on the day of their nuptials as an expression
of their surreal love story,
even he had a discreet wisteria
tucked inside the button hole of his suit,
their love voiced in sweet scent
of the whimsical wisterias of summer.

everyday she filled her vases
in the purple laughter of scented wisterias
and her rooms in their eloquent poetry,
their children played with these flowers
stringing them into garlands
and wearing them on their heads
their branches wreathed into crooked coronets,
concocting their memories
in the perfumed sighs of wisterias.

now years later when he searches
for her lost smile in forget-me-not blooms,
the lone wisteria blossom is
always perched inside his buttonhole
like a whispered kiss emblazoned
on her life’s moments from her in adieu…

Loving You As A Dream…

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you are like
song of silver syllables,
echoing from jubilant lips of
a cascade, reverberating
within my heartbeats
inside layers of my soul.

a wisp of fall carried
in invisible palms of breeze,
your thoughts I carry
within my contemplation,
always remembering you at
the whimsical turn of
every nascent moment.

the taste of your kiss
lingers on my lips as flavor
of a sparkling dew on
tequila tongue of morn,
with a nuance of sour tinge
of sun-kissed mandarins.

that lively laughter
so reminiscent of sea
with its cavorting cerulean tides
that shatter against ragged shores,
and a smile like pouring treacle
which filled my days with
honeydew sunshine.

craving to taste salt
of passion on your skin,
to feel my fingers comb through
your silken locks in soft caress,
as the fingers of dawn
painting clear streams in
glowing streaks of vermilion.

I want to be spooned
with your realms as sinuous tendril
curling over a bough,
your fluid gaze is like a caress
of serene moonlight,
your voice like a whisper
of my sentiments,

yearning to cup you as
a dewdrop within my palms,
or pick you as snowflakes from
the sublime trails of winter,
as that lonely dried rose
within yellowed pages
of bittersweet existence,
I want to hold you close
to my heart forever…