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…

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She is an Autumn-Song

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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…

Tangerine Trail of Fall…

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mandarin sun
hanging lusciously on azure,
on a citrus morning
pours honeyed photons
on earth’s variegated platter,

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while on a serpentine trail
covered in orange molts
of denuded terrestrial giants,
breeze indulges in
aromatic feast of
cinnamon rolls.

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the once verdant leafage
has been gilded in gold,
by whimsical brush of nature
as on this dust trail
they fallen from lofty perches
of garrulous flutter~

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pantomime as petals
withered from
embrace of a gulmohur–
reviving those days
of early summer scented
in breath of mango blossoms.

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every orange leaf
forming part of fall’s carnival,
whispers soft secrets
in nutmeg syllables
into ears of indifferent breeze–

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about lazy moon
who plays truant at midnight
to fall asleep on branches of oak,
the fireflies who
call themselves stars of earth,
about cricket’s weird strains
which it compared to the cuckoo’s,
of the nightingale’s love
for the hursinghar.

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as I walked one autumn morn
treading softly over dewy leaves,
along this orange trail,
leaves withered and burnished,
apparently sang lullabies
to me just as in spring time–
but somehow the voice
seemed but an echo of yesterday…

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Images of Autumn

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silently standing nude skeletons
of sentries of nature,
once covered by lush
green foliage,
dappled by fragrant blossoms
peeping and smiling shyly,
laden with ripe juicy fruits
luring chirpy winged gluttons–

on bent boughs akin to
the embracing arms of Nature
the leaves that rustled in unison
to share untold secrets
with the gossiping wind
that were stitched by agile beaks
of the avian seamstress
into cozy welcoming coves
have long fallen and flown away–

their freshness is lost
their greenery has  turned to
yellow ,orange, red and brown
by the deft strokes
of Nature’s brush, wielded by Time

the air is balmy
its pace calm , mellow, still
the spirit of autumn
is in the air–

her aura pervades the environs
as her image peers into
nature’s veranda
through silent skeletoned groves~

standing forlorn
reminiscing the past
as an old man
past meads of youth
and cradle of childhood…