Dusk to Dawn…


amethyst skies
at crepuscular hour
are reflected on sapphire waters,
as epistles of poetic calligraphy
resonating with versatile hues,

when the topaz sun
is gobbled as mandarin morsel
and periwinkle heights
pantomime a giant chrysoberyl,
of oxymoron shades
soon blending into
an obsidian night.

the opal moon
ailing with insomnia pours over
ivory, printed volumes,
in long hours of silent onyx night,
and the diamond stars
effulgent above peer at the lovers
painting rainbow dreams
within molasses of eyelashes.

budding chartreuse whispers
kiss fringes of
a blossoming tourmaline dawn,
the sky like an armful of scented orchids
with a silver lunar sliver
on the distant aquamarine,
like a half forgotten love song
lingering on edge of reverie.

If Love Could Paint the Sky


if love finger-painted
her versatilities on the azure canvas
bland familiarities of noon sky would be colored
in its spectral moods,
twilights and dawns not just transient graffitis
expressed on skies’ complacence.

rainbows would laugh in abstract shapes
on cornflower heavens,
revealing myriad sentiments braided in love,
like lyrics of a romantic strain
splattered in variegated fonts on sky.

tempests would smear skies
with their unpredictabilities more often,
cafe noir of love’s angst being spilled in greys
on the cobblestones of stars.

while sunshine wooing
shadows with gold-dusted promises,
would be the reflection
of the flush of first love and desire,
as love indulged in painting exploits.

Sky is a Kaleidoscope…


winter morn5

peppermint sighs
of a sheepish winter sun
hastily munching away icicles in morn,
while shivering in caramel kisses
of sugared snowflakes,
are frosted over organza skies
in soft cerise and mauve syllables,
as cherry blossoms and wisterias
in fragrant bloom.

tempest skies1

the bipolar moods
of monsoon tempests are scrolled
in mascara swirls on the infinite blue~
punctuated in thunder trumpets
and lightning intuition,
this is like an epistle of adieu scribed
in peppered droplets of emotions,
a love story writ in bittersweet words
with a happy epilogue
radiant in ribbons of rainbows.

summer noon1

the noons of sultry summers
are gaudy as loud echoes of laughter,
that filter through foliage
like fingers of intrigue to tapestry
preoccupations like chiaroscuros,
stern sun pours tequila
over landscapes in aureate ripples,
as sailing lily-petal clouds
try to mellow harshness of sunshine
and brooks preen ornamented
in golden filigree.

twilight sky1

crepuscules of whimsy
are like embroidered silhouettes of fall
transiently aglow on cerulean heights,
as though a memory is revived
in a tender moment of reflection,
only to be buried in anonymity of past,
just as Medusa of nocturne
gulps away colorful fluidities of dusk,
while avian cacophony prophesies
contrasting quietudes of impending night.

night sky

velvet obscurities of night
sequined in platitudes of faint starlight,
with a singular opal moon gilded
on stark darkness of midnight,
like a sparkling pearl within oyster’s womb,
stardust is sprinkled on cosmic mysteries
to compose versatile vignettes of dreams,
this sky is like a fairytale with
a princess moon awaiting in shackles
for the golden warrior to rescue at dawn.

Poetry Breathes in Night’s Womb…


moonlight is white wine
scattering expletives of intoxication
in bipolar moods of night,
teetotaler stars frown indignation
as earth loses itself
in soporific slumber lulled
by mesmerizing lunar radiance.

poetry breathes stardust
into dejections of dying comet,
whispered metaphors sneak
through gaps underneath doors
which moonlight creeps in through
diluting maps of fluorescence
etched in darkness by
meandering fireflies of insomnia,
as I scribe brewing cognitions
on drowsy, unimaginative sheets
while the clock trudges along
crawling as a toddler
on reluctant hands of lethargy.

crisp browned toast autumn morns,
with a poached egg sun reclining
on white albumin of cloudy duvets,
aromatic with promises
of oven fresh cinnamon rolls,
lurk within eyes like reminiscences
of spring’s bluebonnet skies,
tapestried in citrus blossom sighs
as they patiently await
the elusive oblivion of sleep
while poems beg to be
voiced in scripted calligraphy.

elastic hours creep
through milestones punctuating sojourn
to the ughten lit by polaris,
while eerie shadows befriend sleeplessness
and novels are rifled by preoccupations,
scanning horizons for virgin wink
of a rising blonde sun,
seeking to rinse away drowsiness
with dew from leafy palms.

poetry exhales redolence
within the privacies of yellowed diaries,
nurtured by moodswings of indifferent sleep,
to be sprinkled as laughter
on morning faces of dewy roses,
to reverberate as rain-songs
of musical ripples on pavements
and waft in scented sighs of butterfly flutters…

Reminiscences of Beaver Moon…


filigree silver of snowflakes
covers landscapes
in a quilt of radiance,
underneath hide embryos
hibernating and dreaming of
honeydew spring.

a freckled face
peers down in intrigue~
an opal studded amid
shimmering constellations,
drinking in tranquility
with its champagne gaze.

bathed in
the pouring vermouth
of moonbeams,
shadows sketch apparitions
with moonlight,
in silence echoing with
whispers of falling snow.

trees are mannequins
gowned in glimmer of snow,
with gossamer veil
of moonlight enhancing
their sublime elegance under
a gem-stoned night sky.

within frozen womb
of earth slumbers the redolence
of daffodils yet to bloom–
the moonlit hymn sung by zephyr
with fireflies winking within…