Stilettos of Nature…


rain is a style diva
her feet clad in sparkling stilettos
chiseled in snowflakes’ glitters
as she matches her elegant gait
to rippling rhapsodies
etched by her feet on verdure,

she is a cinderalla,
wearing glass slippers
waltzing over fluidities
of cloud-crooned songs, as she searches
for her lost prince charming
beyond variegated rainbow-thresholds.

cascade is a juvenile lass
prancing in her new silver pumps down
mossy geometrics of hillsides,
her footsteps fall on grey stones

as fingers playing over
the mixed feelings of piano keys,
to give birth to nascent melodies
which lull dark woods into slumber,
while a voyeur sun gazes mesmerized.

feet of aureate dawn are
like treading softness of nostalgia,
emblazoned on landscapes and skies
in pastel-footprints,
her scarlet sandals of velvet dreams
falling in scented whispers on lifelines

petals of many red flowers
are stitched together to adorn her feet,
the vermilion tint of limbs
painted in festivities making
sensitivities of stoic heavens blush,
and powder mountains in gold dust
as she heralds another saga of daylight.

She Blushes in Apple Blossoms


apple blossoms1

on flamingo february mornings,
a lecherous winter sun
winks broadly at cerise dawn
as it stretches golden limbs
between ancient hills
tinted in amber shadows,
by winter’s eloquent whimsy.

apple blossoms3

she is innocence
a nascent whisper blooming
in spring’s boudoir,
scented in wistful dreams
~an embroidered song
on blue bonnet skies’ organza
by sunshine needles
wielded by nimble breeze.

apple blossoms4

river borrows pink aubade of dawn
reflecting it in fluid, rippling lyrics
singing its own version
framed in silver asters of daylight,
drowsy lilies open crinkled eyes
to read this poetry writ in soft pinks
adding couplets of her scented syllables.

apple blossoms2

prima dona orchids yawn
in redolent epistles in early hours
wearing her night gown
of abstract candy-floss sighs,
and wakes to hurriedly change
in pink silk gowns
to preen on sinuous stalks
as the reigning queen of march…

apple blossoms

She is an Autumn-Song



she is a brunette,
her cinnamon mane a poetry
writ in burgundy waves,
her desires wilted
and withered like foliage
burnished and bronzed.

her whimsy is
like echo of rain
on pedestrian trails,
her words are graffiti lines
penned in versatile crayons
of russet, tangerine, gold
in abstract whispers
frozen on leafage moments.

her moods are musicality
of a violin’s strain,
sweet like gulps of apple cider,
scented in potpourri dreams,
strung like raindrop pearls
into a fluid symphony,
pulsations of fragile arteries
reverberating with
the melody of strummed violins.

she is spun in sunshine pastels
borrowed from dusky skies
splashed in flowing flames,
in her eyes floats sorrow
of trees ravaged by fall,
their arms left empty of rustles
she is wrapped in solitude
a silent serenade
trickling in treacle syllables
on parched cobblestones
of a mellow september
standing with palms spread
to benevolent turquoise
for benediction…

Orphaned Lyrics of a Vagrant Song


an orphaned song 
longs for lyrical syllables 
long withered as wizened thoughts
of ripening October days,
and rhythm bleached
from faded sighs of the muse.

faint susurrus 
of confidence echoes softly
like dogeared words reiterating 
from geometric contours 
of igneous juggernauts,
only to float as 
winged seeds of dreams
yet to germinate 
on the soil of reality.

thrill pulses like
gulped caffeine sips
singeing walls of 
intricate tapestry on flesh,
as resonant vowels 
adding spark to the sinews
of insipid consonants,
only to pepper as dewdrops
of complacence over
the velvet blades of relief.

within catacombs of 
mind’s riddling contemplations 
lurk umbras of long coffined mistakes,
emaciated regrets amid 
cushions of comforting memories,
and weaving through 
cluttered attics of a past 
forgotten yet not buried deep,
I seek to gather
withered frangipani of bliss
under scorching rays 
of the noon of adversities…

Lullabies Nature Croons…


sing to the leaves
on skeleton fingers
of tired trees,
lullabies under
the velvet night,
lulling even
insomniac stars
asleep beneath
fleece blankets of

cool summer breeze
croons to
twinkling glowworms,
with quaint rhapsody
of crickets
putting them
to sleep on
swaying branches
of starlit thistle,
while even
the amber moon
and its enamored moths
are lost in slumber
by midnight.

lark, nightingale,
and cuckoo,
serenade to
scented apostles
of spring,
a soft, soporific echo
in perfumed gardens,
puts flowers
to afternoon siestas,
despite blazing lantern
on cerulean heights.

tidal symphony
in moon’s sheen,
is sung by tireless waves,
to ancient igneous,
lethargic gulls
and pregnant oysters,
after sun retires
on tangerine footprints
leaving a long night
and lure of dreams
beyond realities shores…

lyrics scribbled on dried leaves…



lattices of interlacing veins
etched on bosom of fluttering leaves
are orphaned from reluctant boughs,
by an infringing, cruel autumn.

fractured swansong of fall
reverberates in potpourri breeze
in broken lyrics,
barely legible on mottled leaves,
as faded manuscripts~
steepled in transience
of whimsical shades of dusk.

versatile are
the songs of foliage,
crooning lullabies to the moon–
indifferent and preoccupied,
singing aubades to sunflowers
~simpering in virgin sunlight,
the lucidity of their notes
lost in ambiguous rustles
born of winds playing on them
melodies like on piano keys.

burnished by relentless sunrays
leaves are scribed in honeydew poetry,
and even the withered yellows
fluttering in cinnamon draft,
softly voice their elusive verses
garnered from oxymoron nature…