Autumn Exuberance

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kissing and tickling
footsteps of departing summer,

burnished foliage
~cinnamon confetti
tinted in red, yellow and orange

showered on solitude
of dust trails fringed
in dead grass,

flies vagrant like syllables
of a half-forgotten love-song~

lingering on crutches
of fake confabulations.

variegated
are moods of verdure,

stained by life’s versatile experiences
in graffiti hues born
from pastels of oxymoron autumn,

streaked on juvenile flutters
yester-years tempered
in the cauldrons of dead past

one last sigh
of exuberance born
from nature

before widowed and wizened
she wraps herself~

in geriatric shivers and
frostbitten mists
of armchair nostalgia…

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Mute Epistles of Palash…

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quilled in vermilion
from fluidities of dawn’s palette,
in flaming words of verse
mute poetics of spring
reverberate in redolent syllables
to be read by lengthening shadows in
the faint glow of moonlight.

pentad of scarlet petals
basking in summer’s pouring tequila
slur in soft, obscure whispers,
its ambiguous dialogues
covering platters in colors
like the blush of juvenile dreams,
while its voiced lines
resemble alphabets drugged by cannabis
in the mirth of holi’s hues.

standing in filigree sunshine
like a poetry penned in scarlet verbiage,
it is devoid of typical verdant rustles adorning
crooned song’s of summer’s greens,
peppered on broken gravel trails
vagrant words of palash salt breeze
in scattered sighs of versatile russets,
as scented imaginings of a moody poet.

piety of a radiant bride in crimson~
her virgin desires and dreams
echoed in muted chime of silver anklets,
is reflected in the blazing palash
heralding advent of boisterous summers,
a parody of mango blossom’s gossips,
tangy slurps of lemonades
dreamed of by parched afternoons
and piquant pickles
flavored in intrigue of noon sun.

it is the moon’s introspections
spun into perfumed reds in silent nights
a versatile blend of
passion of hurling ocean tides
smeared in bleeding wounds of twilights
and psychedelia of singed moths
buzzing under jaundiced street lights,
scribed in ruby tinted words.

winking in sultry glare of sun,
their laughter splattered as claret
on visage of firefly-sequined balmy eventides,
these carmine flowers bloom bright
when nights brief as siestas lulled
by sips of red wine, blossom
into days long as the wait of a widow
for colors and happiness.

reminiscences of bland winters
cuddled in cafe noir aromas,
which are speckled in shadows of hearths
reflected over maple scented silences,
are reflected in a summer’s brooding solitude
when the furnace flames are reignited
on the skeletons of a palash tree’s limbs.

Tangerine Trail of Fall…

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mandarin sun
hanging lusciously on azure,
on a citrus morning
pours honeyed photons
on earth’s variegated platter,

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while on a serpentine trail
covered in orange molts
of denuded terrestrial giants,
breeze indulges in
aromatic feast of
cinnamon rolls.

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the once verdant leafage
has been gilded in gold,
by whimsical brush of nature
as on this dust trail
they fallen from lofty perches
of garrulous flutter~

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pantomime as petals
withered from
embrace of a gulmohur–
reviving those days
of early summer scented
in breath of mango blossoms.

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every orange leaf
forming part of fall’s carnival,
whispers soft secrets
in nutmeg syllables
into ears of indifferent breeze–

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about lazy moon
who plays truant at midnight
to fall asleep on branches of oak,
the fireflies who
call themselves stars of earth,
about cricket’s weird strains
which it compared to the cuckoo’s,
of the nightingale’s love
for the hursinghar.

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as I walked one autumn morn
treading softly over dewy leaves,
along this orange trail,
leaves withered and burnished,
apparently sang lullabies
to me just as in spring time–
but somehow the voice
seemed but an echo of yesterday…

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