Summer’s Mischief

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Summer is a juvenile boy,
hopscotching with pebbles
on afternoons strewn in
quixotic cricket’s rhapsodies,
and butterflies fluttering
salsa delights,

He scatters and gathers
moments like sparkling marbles,
winking in honeyed sunshine~
wearing a hat pinned in sunflowers
he guffaws his laughter
to flower into mustard blossoms.

On hibiscus-tinted dawns~
scented in mango blossom verses,
he sequins delphinium bays
in constellations,
spilling his moody eructations
on azure clarities
to crayon vibrant dusks.

he offers naive faith
in night jasmine filled palms,
tolling bells of worship
on temple steps of tranquility,
fingerpainting rainbows
on kohl streaked blues,
he discovers flavor of first love
on adolescent tongue,
in peppered kisses of tempest.

playing peek-a-boo
with chameleon silhouettes,
he scribbles his secrets on clouds,
with the moon his ball
he aims to taint the night
in mud-stained shots…

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Nature’s Personifications…

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She sits on her haunches
eagerly peering into versatile bay silences
unaware of homecoming delights
of nestlings within rustling leafage,
impatient for constellations to be
sequined on indigo,
while her variegated thoughts
transiently splash themselves
like modern art watercolors on
darkening scowl of azure
and a mandarin sun
leaves its laughter scattered in
evanescing citrus photons
on the visage of marmalade clouds
somewhere a cricket sings
in careless asynchrony of juvenile zest~
she is twilight.

She leaves handprints emblazoned
on cornflower mildness of morn–
resembling lotuses abloom on the sleepy lake,
her smiles are scented in
mysteries of night jasmine’s rendezvous
with the fading moon
and gaucheness of virgin tea-leaves
yet to unfurl chartreuse realms,
she fingerpaints stars on bosoms
of rivers enceinte with restlessness:
despite a deceptive serenity,
fondling drowsy heads of drooping flowers
to awaken them yawning redolently,
while a rooster crows its aubade~
she is dawn.

She brandishes her spatula
in a potpourri of piquant aromas
emanating from her kitchen,
she is a whimsical painter
splashing fiery shades on
fluttering bosoms
of commonplace verdure,
with a topaz moon in her palms,
she softly serenades
the angst of boughs
denuded and silenced
while indifferent sidewalks
preen clad in fireflame verses~
she is autumn.

She has songs
brewing like bleeding tea leaves
within a romantic soul,
with fragrances nurtured
in variegated bowers in her embrace,
she brocades rainbows
on fertile expectations of soil
using an imagination
borrowed from vagrant clouds,
as an innocent voyeur
she witnesses the moon flirting
with shy oysters
hidden within brine turbulences,
she is spring.

She is the exuberance
of a waterfall descending on
silver stilletoes echoing musical notes
on slick mosses of pebbles,
her citrus breath
reminiscent of lemon blossoms
fills freshness in
nostrils of aureate morns,
her oxymoron moods
splatter themselves in
molten kaleidoscopes on
balmy epilogues of daylight
while a cricket strums
evensongs in summer breeze~
she is summer.

She wears her mixed feelings
as the salt and pepper in her hair,
she is the meditation
of snowclad pines on shivering morns,
the lukewarm caress of middle-aged sun
forming chiaroscuros at noon
under the boughs of gulmohur,
the aroma of roasted marshmallows
and foamy cappuccinos,
she is translucence on window-panes
shimmering in sunlight,
with the distant memory
of innocent fingers doodling
thoughts on sighs of boreas,
she is a prismatic snowflake
peppering pragmatic trails,
in chiseled rainbow sonnets~
she is winter.

She showers
liquid benediction on arid earth,
converting puddles into musical chimes,
on grey celestial canvas
her desires blossom in transient vibgyor,
she is nature’s symphony
born on rustling foliage keys,
the ecstasy of a dancing peacock
fanning a turquoise brocade
in the moistness of tissue-paper days,
she is nectar of rejuvenation
breathing life into sinews
of the blistered and withered~
she is monsoon.

Enamored by Twilights…

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I love sunsets
with their bittersweet moods,
orchestra of birds’ homecoming,
and cicadas symphonies,

the colors splashed on
skirts of azure, bodice of clouds,
like a palette of colors
carelessly overturned on skies,

the golden cookie
baked a burnished shade
seen being swallowed by
gluttonous tides of cerulean,

leaving a sigh of molten acrylics
frozen on cheeks of blue,
and silhouettes to drape
the vanishing daylight.

dusk brings with it
a moment of tranquil reverie,
of contemplation in quietude
besides sepia flashbacks
from winding alleys of memory,

and within palm of solitude
I recall the crook of your arm wherein
I rested oft at twilight hour,
our silences speaking louder than words
in eloquent quiet we sat
cuddled together seeing another day
die leaving shimmering stars.

Stories of Crepuscule…

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when the day
that began as a yawn
of radiant vermilion,
finds an epilogue
in drawn curtains of
gossamer shades,
that drape the azure
in graffiti splayed clouds,
twilight is born.

with it enfold tales
in nature’s boulevard,
brocaded in sounds
colors and smells,
the glowworms samba,
songs of crickets,
avian cacophony
of returning birds,
rise of an early bird star,
the slow peppering
of sparkling dew
and the buzz of moths
beneath street lamps.

also commence stories
of lovers watching
sun set beneath tides,
while cerulean sonata
continues unabated,
of little children
playing with fireflies,
of beginning of
unfurling of night jasmines,
and of aroma of brewing tea
floating from kitchens…

Sky is a Kaleidoscope…

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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.

Doves on Temple Footsteps…

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doves1

chiaroscuros of orange fluidities
splashed in abstract echoes
of whispered psalms of devotion
on marble pedestals of temples’ piety
scented in harsingar’s hymns,
add radiance to extinguishing twilights
like dying sighs of saffron cinders
peppered in soft subtleties over
chilled moments strewn in vague umbras.

on volatile crepuscules
like molten emotions of infinite skies,
scattered with crumpled-thought clouds
as waste paper on concrete,
sublime doves grunt and grumble
in syllables of puzzling ambiguities,
as pink beaks peck at
discovered grains of sustenance,
complaining at human meanness
which forgets the hunger of others
while satiating its own greed.

they hopscotch on sun-singed grass
and flutter wings in brief haiku flights,
sprinkling their rage on dusk
like bread crumbs on face of existence,
as a glutton night swallows
the yolk sun in a large mouthful,
I sit on the deserted temple steps
watching pigeons redefine poetry in motion
and scatter palms full of rice grains for
these feisty creatures to savor in delight
and their softly cooed thanks
enhances the sweetness of
the ringing chimes of temple bells…

doves