This morning wasn't grey  rather it was dipped into soothing lavender  as silence  is replaced by sounds of early traffic. Carefully, the white-heaven bound birds  glide down  bringing with them freshly baked hope, as I manage to pull myself out of bed. Feeling  then calls me to the things of this world to madness to chaos  … Continue reading Lavender Sky

Inspired by the poem "and the days are not full enough," by Ezra Pound  If ever the sky above is grey, and memory along with wisteria compels our understanding, then it must be December. Hardly  do I await the rising sun hardly do I remember the last time my heart had sung when daily chores finish and a … Continue reading Deep is the song that echoes on a winter night

Softly my insides burn upon the gradual unveiling of want, its rough religion which sought to recite itself as a monologue knowing that strength is depleted. Your eyes swiftly glance and thumb through like a manuscript, your hands touch me in places unnameable as though aroused by the thought of corrupting sweet innocence, before you … Continue reading Desire, when autumn leaves drop in sudden gusts

Spoiling me with the lightest brush of your lips, a smile a parting and sweet disorder. I reckon you know what goes on inside my head long after your gaze leaves the room, aware that the last strawberry would taste the best of all.   Photo credits: Pinterest  Posted for 'Quadrille #69' @ dVerse Pub … Continue reading November 18th, notes for further study

If ever the sun is drenched in longing and golds along with berry-reds shimmer beneath the brilliant water, then it must be November. I want you to know that when I observe rushing of blood in the corridors of my palm, am reminded of warmth that follows when we stroll together hand in hand, everything … Continue reading In City of Grey Mists and Unfulfilled Desires

With every changing season,                I am looking for a reason Anemone erectly flowering fall upon my face like shadows, as I cry for louder rhythm. Though cogent this pain, this unbelievable urge to shout and scream engulfs me I stand my ground merely for hope which your eyes … Continue reading Yet once more smile, oh departing november sun

I ask him to take out a poem, to feel notes that form cadence by means of peripheral vision. Each syllable is innocence and fire each line break, shimmering stars; 'But where lies its purpose?'  'near poem's end,' I reply with a conspiratorial wink.     Photo credits: Pinterest Posted for 'Quadrille #68' @dVerse Pub … Continue reading Because you asked about the appeal of Poetry

I count droplets as white noise hammers upon my nerves, a breath alone measures false sense of security and emptiness of a desecrated black sky. Perhaps hope is hiding where the naked eye can’t possibly reach. Delirium as though an elixir promising youth is a dark dance of an insatiable body, soul, heart and mind. … Continue reading November 3rd, on the eve of his execution