Sweet Empty Sky Of June Without A Stain

Poem inspired by the title of Henry Vaughan’s masterpiece, “Sweet Empty Sky Of June Without A Stain.”

Why are salt marshes frequently overflowed?
Why am I drawn toward a moonlit path with intensity?
I wish for tranquility to carry me through time,
wear it as skin and allow June to deflect the bleakness of day.
Why does spring allude to violet obsession?
Why do oyster whispers echo within its own silent exterior?
Nowadays my mood quickly shifts from tired
to mellow,
when at dusk silence follows thalia pink and knock-out orange,
there is something to be said about love
having dipped its toes in bitter blues and vulnerability
I can’t remember what it was like before I met you,
to breathe in spaces
between empty whites and mauve hankering,
why is the tongue fretful?
why isn’t your heart tuned to my softest serenade?
I can no longer make sense of things
nor remember if berries
in blackberry bramble cocktail were macerated by cinnamon.

 

 

Photo credits: Loui Jover, Cocktail.

Word List: Salt Marshes, Moonlit Path, Violet Obsession, Thalia Pink, Knock-out orange, Serenade, Blackberry Bramble.

Posted on Artistic interpretations by Margaret @ Real Toads

Also posting on “Open Link Night” @ dVerse Poets Pub

Bathed In The Evening Light, A Poet Walks Slowly

I have witnessed stranger things in life
but none quite as strange as this,
the city is a kaleidoscope of emotions
and sounds
with jasmine flowers swaying in the wind
here the sun is sweltering hot and yet
the heart is somehow content as above the sky grows faint.
In the spaces
between hectic everyday routine and leisurely hours
the city wins you over
with cinnamon bread, bowl of nuts and buttermilk,
here the atmosphere is sweet-toned
when a stranger lends a helping hand regardless of caste and colour
of time and place,
I have spent many an evening marveling upon idiosyncrasy of this kind–
the city is peopled with hope not melancholia,
with viewpoints
both new and old embossed upon the asphalt concrete,
tell me
would you like me to give you a tour of my home country?

 

 

Photo credits: AQ Arif Oil Painting, Karachi 

For Anmol’s prompt “On Wandering & Observing.” 🙂

Posted for Poetics @ dVerse Poets Pub

And on Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads

To Find A Kiss Of Yours

Poem inspired by the title of Federico GarcĂ­a Lorca’s poetic masterpiece “To find a kiss of yours.”

To find a kiss of yours on the stage of twilight
when light slowly ebbs below the horizon,
leaving behind
a sliver of dark orange and dusty lavender
what I wouldn’t give
to trace my finger on your lips,
extract an emotion or two from its bridge.

With you
I taste the saltiness of ocean,

as breath is interlaced with the serenity of sky,
I allow its appeal to flood the senses.

To gaze upon your brow
would be to witness the whirl of coruscating stars,
how is it that God has made you
so as to lead me upon the path to allegiance,
I find I am partial
to your visage and in turn have betrayed the moon.

And to immortalize you in verse,
what I wouldn’t give to compare with stimulation
by strawberries,

to find a kiss of yours in the mist of early dawn
for purposes such I await the day.

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for “Tuesday Platform” @ Real Toads

Posted on the Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

To others a stranger, to me an embodiment of art

What is the word for when people glance as they pass
see it empty and give a sigh?
His dark hair reaches the tailored shoulders of his blue blazer
left stylishly open over a crisp white shirt
standing amongst the crowd in a corner, you can tell he’s bored
his long limbs straight and his head held high,
there are stories hidden in the pupils of his eyes,
stories of war, of death, of trauma and love that have been passed down.
A vacuum of desire that cannot easily be filled,
burns inside his chest as outside the sky is caressed by rain
to others a stranger, to me an embodiment of art
I wonder what fresh burden he harbors inside his heart?
The dance floor is a map of yesteryear’s defeats and triumphs,
and God watches on as we reveal our cards
craving the scent of his showered skin, I sway along with other dancers,
hiding behind masks of emotional armour.

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted on Weekend Mini-Challenge @ Real Toads

Also posting on Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

By any other name, lust

By twilight
the sky is bathed in rich tones of lust
and bewilderment,
as slowly her thighs are rushed into
by feathered dominance,
her cheeks flushed,
as even the wind takes note of dark breathing
and whispers,
Leda lay with her fate tampered with.

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Read here for Zeus and Leda in Greek Mythology 🙂 

Posted on ‘Quadrille #80’ @ dVerse Pub

and on Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads