Untitled Vignettes of Morning

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(i)
sigh of verdant song
of spring reflected
in sparkling visage
of morning dew,
is like naive whisper
of a juvenile dream
yet to unfurl
its chatreuse realms
to mandarin sun.

(ii)

a sleepy bay
stretches lazy limbs
at dawn to erase
lingering kohl of insomnia
from vision of melting moon,
painting the sky’s complacence
in tangering moods
of cider-lorn fall.

(iii)

silver epistles are scribbled
on transparencies
of window’s intrigue,
in braille of beaded frost
as a prelude to
snowclad sublime of
an introverted january morn.

(iv)

cerulean fingers
of brine wriggle
in delighted anticipation,
eagerly rising and falling to
try and touch
the distant skies,
splashing sun’s frowns
in wistful fluidities.

Vignettes on Amnesic Memories

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(i)
drinking sweet sips
after munched gooseberries
were swallowed by a tongue
addicted to raw and tangy desires,
while dew-kissed feet of childhood
pranced on velvety greens,
and childish fingers
gathered green sour sighs
peppered on grassy indifferences,
beneath benevolent boughs.

(ii)
arbitrarily scattered
wildflowers with fireflies aglow
seemingly in their pink, nectarine wombs,
were like fractured fragments
of a dialogue lost in ambiguities,
fringing drains and puddles
to effortlessly smear
tempest-tainted days in laughter~
they were picked in idle whimsy
to momentarily scent
innards of porcelain vases
too sophisticated to bask in
faint redolence of the commonplace
spawns of rustic weeds.

(iii)
memories were treasured
within scrap books in weird collages
composed of wrappers
snapshots, newspaper cut-outs
and old greeting cards,
glued in togetherness to enhance
the fading realms of reverie~
a quirk of adolescence
which now lies on dusty shelves
to be rifled by fingers of nostalgia.

(iv)
drinking hot coffee
on somnolent nights of winter
frostbitten at the edges,
when taunting, unread volumes
lay glaring on the study table
and pleading for
caffeine-induced insomnia
tired eyes tried to learn
lessons soon forgotten
in mandarin sunshine of days
which dawned with sinister threat
of examination looming.

(v)
eyes caressed visions
which mannequins preened in
within lighted shop windows,
like a stardust strewn fairytale
~elusive yet alluring,
mute sighs of desires too lofty
to be touched by earthbound realms
peppered blandness of naivete,
and a silence pregnant
with anticipations from the morrow
yet to emerge from
its chrysalis of oblivion,
and every lavish indulgence of today
is a reflection of
those wasted, serile sighs.

Vignettes of Shadows

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at twilight hour
when azure skies eruct
ripples of hues,
painting clouds in colors,
trees of verdant coat
under guise of darkness,
are silhouettes of
rustles and avian cacophony,
that stand draped in mystique
their umbras elastic
in the moment of sunset.

shadows shorten
at blazing hour of noon,
and lengthen at dusk
to blend in onyx night,
the rays of sunlight filtering
through boughs of leaves,
etch myriad shadows
with gold-tipped quill,
and on bosom of lakes
the wide spread branches
of trees standing ashore,
cast wrinkled shadows.

shadows of the past,
cast their realm in raven,
over blank bosom of today
they have a voice,
a soul and a feeling
as they alter form like
the shape-shifters of folklore,
and more faithful than
any friend ever it lingers
always and then as chameleon
they disappear when night
of despair unfolds…

Conversations…(Vignettes)

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(i)
night jasmines
born when twilight sun
seeds the womb of rising moon,
wither at dawn and
murmur to the sun in
fragrant syllables of reverence
as from child to father,
eagerly smiling to feel
fondling touch of sun-rays.

(ii)
the rolling tides,
rising and ebbing caress
and kiss the relentless rock,
smothering it with kisses of brine,
making the sea shell say,
‘love blossoms within me
as opalescent pearl,
while this unmoved rock
will turn to sand with time’

(iii)
the cherry blossoms
wither and fall quilting earth
with a shawl of pink,
and whisper to the sunflower,
‘ stop being an ardent sundial,
and enjoy the beauties around before
treacherously transient time
passes away’…

(iv)
fireflies meandering
the obscure alleys of night,
boasts to the dancing moths,
‘I am my own lantern,
while you worship with frenzy
the light of another,
only to die within
ambiguity of night’s umbras.’

In Memories’ Vase (Vignettes)

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beautiful moon1

moon is a pearl
in indigo palm of cosmos,
shimmering with asters
pouring vanilla ice-cream
in dollops into
voracious lips of Gaea.

rainbow1

sailing as french lace puffs
on azure infinite,
with traces of tempest’s grey
on sublime countenance,
and hints of rainbow pastels
streaked mildly, nonchalantly
amoebic angel-pillows
strum symphony of drizzles.

pomegranate

the celestial pomegranate
is pealed by divinity to sprinkle
seeds on night’s veil of sombre
as twinkling asters- the
frozen fireflies on Kohl-ed skies,
or hopes aglow in despair.

frangipani in rain

raindrops fall
to pepper the taffeta
of frangipani breathing
sweet perfume,
and scroll an arch
of prismatic rainbow
on the grey expanse.

island

quietude of
an uninhabited island
is ripped into shards by
claws of fierce storm
its carnivorous fangs piercing
flesh of clouds to
create thunder and lightening.

poppies

hypnotic sighs
of poppies in vermilion
lull the senses into a slumber,
gifting stolen moments
of respite in anxiety.

sands of time

these glimpses are
portrayed on sands of time
as beautiful images,
like vows of true love,

flower vase

and are admired with pleasure
by soul, caressed by
breeze of bliss
and treasured as flowers
in memory’s vase,
or bottled away as fireflies
of glowing starlight…

Glimpses of Morning Star…

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glowing on 
brightening azure,
blushing in vermilion sprinkles
of virgin aurora,
while the pale sliver of moon
lingers on skies
freckled in clouds fringed
in glittering gold dust,
from the quill of sunbeams,
as a wordless song
lurking in the throat,
the pole star glows
as the silver lantern of hope.

when night departs leaving
its kohl as shadows
of trees basking in sun’s smile,
and with its moonlight 
splattered as molten droplets
on verdant flutters as dew,
while truant stars siesta
on the rippling bay of teal,
leaving a drowsy sun awakening
with its yawn of volatile gold,
from between the hill’s arms
and a morning star shining
as last night’s fragile dream
evanesced from eyelids of sleep.

the north star is a gem
aglow on the sublime horizons,
as though bejeweled in
the wedding band of the day
when the sun weds the sunflower,
its rays echo softly over
the peppered jasmines
showered on the earth’s bosom,
its light fell in bright syllables
on the face of docile dawn~
like desires of a little girl,
until the sun-flames with
their dazzling rays hide this
soft glow into oblivion…

Vignettes of Full Moon…

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(i)
when shivering nights
huddled beneath foggy opacity
of the mist’s quilt,
echo with shrill lupine calls,
an opal moon casts
silver apparitions on snow-dunes,
painting eucalyptuses in
sighs of argent memories,
as wizened fingers try
to ease warmth into frozen limbs.

(ii)
snowflakes whisper psalms
to atheist storm clouds grumbling
at chilly touch of boreas,
caressing powdered arms of trees
in prayers, that will bud into
chartreuse blessings in springtime,
a glutton moon yearns
to taste honeyed sunshine
beyond the threshold of ughten,
warming arthritic limbs.

(iii)
thawing snow prophesies
blooming artless daffodils,
like scented giggles of a cherub,
cawing crows foretell
drawing end of inglenook eventides
and mornings perfumed
in wafting warmth of eggnog lattes,
a mixed feelings moon peers down
to smell blossoming beginnings of spring.

(iv)
blushing as nubile maiden
like a tint of cerise dawn on night,
the moon reflects hues
of nascent spring blooms~
herb moss pink and wild phlox,
fishes throng upstream rivers,
and it is emblazoned on night sky
as epilogue of dying winter,
kisses of frost glow
as sun-dust freckles on windows,
left by setting pink moon
on clarity of winter morns.

(v)
earth abounds in fragrant flowers
overflowing spring’s basket,
cows in pastures over-brim
cauldrons of milkmen,
moon is a luscious bowl of cream
slowly lapped away
by celestial feline in dark nights,
named after the hare,
it is symbolic of prolific May~
the month of fragrance,
when butterflies in brocades
feast on nectarine mocktails.

(vi)

strawberries ripen
in pouring tequila sunshine,
as aspirations on stalks of existence,
roses bloom in rapture
as redolent susurrus of summer,
the moon breathes deep
to inhale a scented blend
of sweet strawberries–
reminiscent of jams and pies
and the romance of roses
seen in lovelorn eyes,
scented in lovers’ stolen kisses.

(vii)

bipolar moods of weather
sweat brine from heat worn brows,
wreathing frowns on azure
of burrowed grey clouds,
trumpeting the advent of tempest,
the sheepish moon
is drenched in rain as it tries
to use clouds as parasols,
while rain-songs are strewn on puddles
changing them into rain-chimes.

(viii)

sturgeons crowd river beds
as a reddish moon yearns for a taste,
of aromatic fish curry
brewed in a kitchen of delicious dreams,
the corn is juvenile
yet not ready for harvest,
so lunar appetite must be appeased
by meals of seasoned sturgeons,
ripened mangoes lure
the gaze of voyeur moon,
as it salves sunburns of earth
blistered by sweltering sunshine.

(ix)

ripened crops
are harvested in bright sheen
of pouring moonlight exuberance,
as autumnal equinox draws near
covering dust trails in burnished desires~
mottled in russet and tangerine,
denuding trees of their humility
and soft rustling, verdure,
while a moody moon perches
on skeletal boughs, watching
splattered water colors of fall.

(x)

hunters track their prey
in honeydew amber radiance
of a moon alit closest to earth’s bosom,
leaves pepper soil in cinnamon sighs–
watching spilled blood
and withering foliage, the moon
watches autumn mature,
its nostrils filled
in piquant potpourri sighs
and taste of apple cider
lingering on its silver tongue.

(xi)

frost covers the wrinkles
of silver moon yearning on chilly nights,
for pints of whiskey-warmth
and steaming cups of cappuccinos
~painting froth mustaches on upper-lips,
it rubs benumbed fingers together
as beaver traps are set
to attain warm fur for impending snow.
armchairs are laved in honeyed glow
of cackling hearth flames,
while a shy moon scatters
poetic epistles in November chill~
scribing silent nights in sonnets.

(xii)

nights are stretched longer
as an aging sun sleeps more, leaving
the moon to cuddle within cloudy blankets
in snow-kissed chill of night,
wispy snowflakes are kisses
of moonlight floating in the cold,
while a frostbitten moon
waits impatiently for
virgin kiss of mellowed sunrays
and for hot broth
to clear its clogged throat
at a much awaited breakfast…