Autumn Exuberance


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.

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…


Glimpses in Yellow…



icteric glow
of streetlight winks
at jealous moon
hung high and distant,
when enamored moths
dance in its radiance
assuming it to be moon,
forms a chiaroscuro on
asphalted bosom of
winding gravel trail.

frangipani in sunlight1

petals of frangipani
in sublime are dappled
a sunshine yellow
by nature’s paint brush,
as though a firefly
was casting its fluorescence
on snow-white corolla.


moths of vagrancy
humming serenades of love
in Vertumnus’ carnival,
with wings fringed in kohl
and splattered in
yellow polka dots are
Cassanovas of spring
flirting with blooming flowers.


sunflowers smiling
jubilantly in cascading tequila
of a summer day are
the eyes of unrequited love
gazing mesmerized at
their oblivious beloved,
wearing a corona
apparently of sun-flames
on their brown heads.


yellowed pages of
old, dogeared, moth-eaten diaries
with scribbles of age-old anecdotes
faded from fragile paper,
and with pressed rose petals
of some lingering memory,
are reverberations
from alleys of forgotten past
revived when pages are reread
after the passage of time.

yellow autumn

autumn in her pastels
of variegated shades has
many shades of color yellow,
speckling faces of leaves
once a garrulous verdure with
strokes of an array of yellows,
for in fall leaves seek
to masquerade as petals
with soft cinnamon scents.

Tangerine Trail of Fall…



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


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


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~


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


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


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.


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…