Fairy-tales of the Meads -2…

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Rapunzel tendrils
of dusk-lorn wisterias,
hang in scented breeze
casting long, sinuous shadows
in receding light
and streetlight speculations.

Cinderella escapades
of butterflies
fluttering their nervousness
while ranting in
language of ambiguities,
donning firefly-refulgence
under moonlit fantasies
to ballet in floral ballrooms
only to be left
holding a pumpkin at midnight.

Sleeping beauty,
lost in eternal slumber
wakes up to honeydew kiss of spring
to spread her laughter~
as a golden daffodil,
making the dawn redolent.

Snow-white
whispers of night-jasmine
peppered on soil,
are each like spawned love-child
of sunshine wedded to the moon,
poetry of white and saffron
and perfumed in love.

Nature’s Versatile Vignettes…

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gravid
a slate-grey sky
frowning its wrath
amid tantrum throwing clouds,
showers blessings
of fluid poetry,

night dissolves
in its own pessimism,
leaving the moon forlorn
to blend in tequila sunshine
like ice-cream scoop
on mango jelly,
and orphaned stars
are adopted by benevolent bay
abounding in constellations.

whispers
of snow peppered
on wizened brow of winter,
echo in eerie night
moon shivers
and wraps itself
in warmth of muffler clouds
and stars hide
beneath the quilt of mist.

purple orchids
are syllables of evensongs,
reverberating
their exuberance under
the golden glow of sunbeams.

She is Zephyr…

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she is
wreathed in fragrance
gathered from
boudoir of flowers,

invisible and elusive
garlands of strung scents
compose realms in
rainbow-crocheted meads,

when virgin sighs
of awakening daffodils
with gold-dust wombs
herald colorful spring.

pink-white whispers
of cherry tree,
pepper silence of mornings
~citrus-lorn and clutching
to lingering sliver
of lunar promises
fading on face of azalea skies.

she finds her whimsy
in moods of sakura blossoms,
her laughter reminiscent
of sunflowers and plumeria,
her sensuous dreams
abound in breath of roses.

painting evensongs
with nectar of violets
wisterias and stoic amaranths,
she adorns nights
in sequins of night jasmine,
and pollens of dahlias.

she is the dream
of lotuses daydreaming over
lake’s indifferent embrace,
exuberance of marigolds
in balmy summer’s veranda,

she is
emblazoned essence
of poppies on aurora-sky,
ambiance and prosperity
blooming like hibiscuses
~footprints on marble-steps
of worship.

SEASONS…

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SPRING
She is aureate smile of daffodil
as it awakens from winter-lorn siesta
on a crisp peppermint morn
after apparently scores of dawns,
draped in misted confusions.

The soft lilting rhapsody
of a skylark as it senses fragrance
in flowing realms of zephyr
and sings to welcome floral delights.

She is lingering sigh of sakura
which blossom in redolent brevity
~ haiku penned by nature’s quill
on to be mouthed and scattered
in scented syllables
by a vociferous breeze.

Drizzling symphony of clouds
seeking to pepper petal-cheeks in gems-
as perfumed boudoir of Zephyrus,
enamors their vagrant souls.

SUMMER

Her laughter echoes in rippling gait
of cascading mountain brooks,
which flow down chiseled verdure
when a belligerent sun frowns.

She is infatuation
of a love-struck sunflower,
reiterating celestial path of Helios
with entranced gaze of one hypnotized.

She is fragrance of mango blossoms
which herald anticipations
of luscious, golden delights
soon to ripen on boughs of desire.

She is the elusive mirage
fleetingly cheating visions
on asphalted paths,
when light plays conjurer
on some harsh, perspiring noon.

AUTUMN

She is auburn whisper of nostalgia
withering from bony fingers
of geriatric mendicancy,
echoing on dusty trails
in cinnamon-scented ambiguity.

She is placid grin carved
on juicy melons of reality,
to concoct dancing shadows on
stark lamps of veracity.

She is the swiftness of squirrels
eagerly hoarding nuts,
only to be forgotten restart
another xylem-phloem equation,
while golden wheat-dreams rippen.

She is the mandarin moon
seen perched on nude branches,
delighting in the vista
of enceinte fields afore harvest.

WINTER

She is the sepia morning,
apparently bleached of flavors and hues,
awakening lethargically to
steaming lure of caffeine~
seen through frosted panes
fingerprinted by wind’s shivers.

She is warmth of blazing hearth
and blankets coaxing agility to laze,
on afternoons veiled in fog
while nostrils delight in scents
of roasted peanuts and brewed hot cocoa.

She the flavor of green peas
shelled in bowls like moments of leisure,
the aroma of greens permeating from
a kitchen’s larder of allure.

She is the forbidden pleasure
of ice-creams savored in the chill
when snowflakes cover foliage rustles
like children after pillow tussles,
and fingers are numbly beg for sunshine.

Flowers Whisper Secrets

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roses waking blurry eyed
at crack of dawn
when an egg-yolk sun spawns
another newborn, golden morn,
have secrets to share
learnt from dewdrops sprinkled
by a retreating night,
about insomniac moon which
seeds prolific tides in pearls
and promiscuities of breeze
flirting with garrulous leafage.

lovelorn sunflowers awakening
when the sun deigns
to smile through versatile clouds,
have a secret in their laughter
while they bask in surrealism
of golden, volatile affections,
the hidden thoughts
of surreptitious kisses
of blushing dawns and wistful dusks,
the pain of onyx nights
and morose tempestuous moments,
are whispered by these gaudy blooms.

dahlias wear versicolor dreams
oft sequined in sunshine glitters
and brocaded in rain’s lyrics,
they are like children
who love to play dress-up,
with clandestine observations~
they whisper about squirrel’s hideouts
cricket’s strains and glowworms’ waltzes,
telling about tree’s chiaroscuros
and shadows in twilight’s gasp,
sharing secrets about nature
in murmured ambiguities.

cherry blossom in subtle pinks
wither within sighs of transience,
sharing secret of life and change
the only thing permanent
in existence is change,
these flowers momentarily scenting
sinews of azure expanse
before they pepper earth’s muteness
with their now stale fragrance,
reveal the changes wrought
by varied moods of time~
stressing on elusive permanence.

Floral Musings…

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golden buttercups,
in sunshine-spun pinafores,
shiver in the cool breeze
while lukewarm treacle trickles
down azure canopy
polka-dotted in vagrant clouds
with storms brewing
within cotton-wool wombs,
and butterflies preen
in aureate embrace of
the redolent daylight.

dandelions are songs sung
by earth’s fertility, scattering
fragrant syllables over
silent chords of wind’s violin,
to spread as notes of spring’s allure
while bonny cotton-faces
sway to the rhythm of
this ethereal rhapsody echoing
in muted couplets of delight,
unaware and un-envious of
the prettier taffeta of others
abloom in spring’s boudoir.

zinnias in variegated skirts
blooming in versicolor bower-ribbons
pantomime as rainbow strands
brocaded over soil’s bosom,
enchanting butterflies on wings
painted as evensongs of dusk
and moths crooning softly
while honeybees buzz
with nectarine anticipation,
unaware that the breath
of these multi-shaded blossoms
was not ethereal as hues promised
~they are like femme fatale
without inherent love in dark souls.

myriad colored wildflowers
blooming amid the straggling weed
under virtually opaque veneer
of anonymity and obscurity,
smile beneath the cascading photons
simpering with pleasure
as a group of country-maids,
their beauty unadulterated as
the bliss at being alive
sighs faint nuances of sweetness
reverberating in zephyr
as eulogies to spring’s beauty.

perfumed laughter of lilacs
blooming in honeydew sunshine
as remnants of the scrolls of crepuscule,
abloom in bowers of desire,
echo in colorful fragments to
together compose lullabies and aubades
for both nightfall and dawn
always cradled in verdant flutters
as spring’s fragrant children
eager to lave in dewdrops and
bask in pouring sunshine…

 

 

You are No Longer Here…

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vines of roses and wisteria,
citrus blossoms
and sweet-sighed frangipani,
boughs laden in bouganvillia,
bottle brushes and hibiscuses in red,

variegated dahlias
and conventional sunflowers
with many an anonymous flower~
bloom today in April on
this fragrant spring morning–
each with an echoing sussurus
of your inherent beauty.

they bloom as lovely as ever
the glory of nature in
our front yard born of your efforts,
but as always today somehow
the joy they give is missing,

I feel your touch in the softness
of their fondled petals,
and your smile in their pollen ‘grins’,
today you are not there
to savor coffee with me in
our cherished, nurtured alcove

and I feel my thirst become eternal
never to be quenched by
another draught of caffeine…