Verses of Winter

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Coriander breath
sighed by a huddled kitchen
warming itself
in gasps of frostbitten stove,
blends in citrus honeydew realms
of a gossamer winter morn.

somewhere
pea-pods pop out syllables
of a sumptuous delight,
to flavor insipid
moments of bleached twilights.

empty vases
yearn for daffodil daydreams
prematurely spawned
afore March,

eggs Benedicts congeal
on frozen porcelain moments,
while a lukewarm coffee
patiently cools
tired heels on tiles of boredom.

like a morsel
unswallowed and clogging
throat of contemplation,
a poem begs to burp
out its words in varied decibels

~ a pent up thought
scribbling itself on chameleon clouds
to emblazon the innermost emotions
of winter in hues of autumn…

Winter Moon

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She sits forlorn,
wrinkled and wizened
on frostbitten grayish clouds
under the veil of mist,
determined to keep vigil
in December chill
warmed by distant embers
of shining galaxies.

She drinks from
that half- filled cup of coffee
left lukewarm on
the window sill,
breathing in the lingering scent
of roasted peanuts
and the luscious chocolate cake
you’d gobbled away
in gluttonous delight.

She is like honeydew,
or a tangy round slice of lemon
her breath scented in
scent of myrtle and pine needles,
she resembles to
to a shivering hungry beggar
a round golden bun,
to a crying child she appears
to be his favorite crunchy cookie.

She hums x-mas hymns
in the silence of falling snowflakes,
whispering fables from
dogeared volumes of Aesop
befriending insomniac asters
chilled by the winter frost,
her smile is reminiscent
of daffodils from bowers of March,
she scribbles her dreams
writing epistles in the fragrance
of blooming night jasmine.

Bland Are The Moods of Winter

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Benign and blameless~
the mist clad, bland morn of December,
like a lingering gasp of cerise,
yearns for polychromatic epistles
scribbled on canvas of March,

Robbed of lush verdure
after transient lure of burnished golds,
denuded boughs shiver beneath
quilting heaps of winking snowflakes in
the faint honeydew sunshine.

Within frostbitten soil’s depths
the daffodil bulbs slumber
dreaming golden dreams,
while the meads hanker after
colors and fragrances of flowers.

Nights are silent
and draped in mystical fog,
unspeckled in stardust sighs
and the moon finds solace from
nocturnal vigil under
blankets of cotton wool clouds.

Its hues faded, lost, stolen,
a colorless winter
broods in its armchair of nostalgia,
reminiscing of bygone
versicolor springs
golden summers and cinnamon falls…

Winter is An Old Woman…

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Winter
is an old woman,
her face mapped in wrinkles
like frostbitten verbs,

She sits
on her haunches at dawn,
gathering citrus-scented dewdrops
from grass blades,
while painting her dreams
as azaleas in watercolors on
hydrangea skies.

Snowflakes
are christmas baubles
simpering treacle smiles in
the lukewarm sunshine,
hung on verdant limbs
of frozen pines,
adorning each silent apostle
in crystalline whispers.

Ladling peppercorn sighs
of fuming soup
on shivering platters
etching gasps of delight,
she sips cappuccinos
with parched lips,
scenting once cinnamon breeze
in caffeine vowels.

Using herbs
like versatile consonants,
of variegated flavors and aromas
sprinkled on bland days,
parsley and cilantro
green onions and garlic~
enhance the taste of existence,
as she spins love-yarns
in the kitchen.

Mists she spins
like gossamer hopes,
to quilt the barren earth
wrapping hibernations in oblivion
to nurture the nascent,
until daffodils awaken
from buried bulbs in springtime.

Sitting afore maple-wood fires,
on her creaking arthritic armchair,
she spins woolen jumpers~
blessing her progeny with warmth,
and indulges in marshmallow reverie
reminiscing of balmy August afternoons,
lingering in memory
as the taste of pickled mangoes
and roasted, buttery peanuts.

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…

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.

Snippets of Life…

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haywire thoughts
are leaking fountain pens
spilling indigo selves
o’er carefree bosom
of azure cornflower skies,
to paint a nocturne
strewn in starlit whimsy.

oft the clouds
stealing meads’ hues,
drenched in versatile shades
with many a tale hidden
in their vagrant stride,
are my poetic muse.

crayons streak
a sunset on virgin white,
filling imagination
into sinews
of shriveling poetry.

kohl stains
untouched, unsuspecting blues,
of a Renoir sky,
periwinkles bloom
on horizons
as daylight tip-toes away
leaving chiaroscuros
etched on nascent night.

frosted cheeks
of wizened wrinkled winter,
glaze honeydew morns
in sepia tones
of caramelized sugar,
somewhere a cappuccino
breathes exotic whispers
of frothy dreams.

silent skies
are scattered in avian verbiage
while lotuses slumber
on sun-kissed ripples,
tall eucalyptuses
paint tall tales in fading light.