Come Autumn, without turning I kiss the night, the maladroit and send him away

And now you inquire about the nature of my heart
now, after extracting its nectar
and bestowing emptiness once more along rugged edges
and oval pores,
the liquid amber which you drink of is nothing short
of essence,

urging Autumn awake from deepest slumber
this maladroit handling of the affair has left me in pieces,
brought about memories of poems written with sweet salt
of your tongue,
I choose every word with utmost care so that you know ache
without confusion or misunderstanding.



Photo credits: Flickr

Posted for “Midweek Motif” @ Poets united

Posted on weekend Challenge @ Real Toads

This sugar, this feeling tossed into the shoreline by a gathering storm

Poem inspired by the title of Sappho’s poetic masterpiece, “In my eyes he matches the gods.”

and speak
for my tongue is broken,
my shoulders dusted with a soft blush
and the full moon
that serves as sole witness to possibility that alights
on my heart.

In my eyes he matches the gods,
the man
who with the slightest inclination of his brow
pours longing into lush reeds in water,
profusely gold
and I hearing nothing but sweet murmur of his voice
become as wind,
urging the night to linger awhile.

Savagely dark, I surrender to the sound of his breath
circling me
as clouds, as a flock of ravens wild,
I write him poems and make love on paper
lips as sour cherries,
I contemplate as outside the trees sing his name.

To wish a darkness in every eye that dares to lock with yours
is paradigm shift

tell me, is it so inscrutable a concept for me to want you
all to myself?
a wanton wave washes over me,
as I desire for meeting of souls, of fingers running through hair
and caressing my skin,
surely you must feel the same?
But all must be endured since even a poor hungers for bread,
your only cruelty is that there is smoke
and heat and flames
but you know not passion: it burns for you.


Photo credits: Pinterest

Re-posted on the Poetry Pantry 🌹

Posted for “Wild Friday: First Edition” @ Poets United

And touch the stubble plains with velvet hue, until the soul is filled with deep contentment

Under ambrose pale that has painted the leaves
upon the ground,
the long shadows of early September and the last remnants
of cerulean blue Summer,
I have mastered the art of getting by
my determination raging in every drop of my blood and snakeskin.

Mercurial and wayward is lust,
that has discovered its way deep into the shy regions
mark my shoulders with the willfulness of night,
let it settle somewhere between the grey smudged sky
and my sensuality,
I am a seamstress of plain dealing,
arbiter of wild and tame
in dreams I dance with love sliding down as moonlight
down my length,
I, too gentle for words, am a product of Virgo Rising.

I am a woman wrapped in poesy, a flickering naked candle flame
let me guide you
to the secret places in your soul,
do you ever wonder
just how decadent it gets-
like ivory waves on the ocean
your senses follow mine,
as I continue to be unapologetically myself.



Photo credits: Seamstress, @catschappach

Posted for ‘Kerry’s Challenge’ @ Real Toads

and Posted on Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

Aubade – Autumn wind whispers your name as the colour of leaves changes to flame

The moors, the lowering skies,
the ruins of a castle,
the ghosts of times long past and phantom tinkling of a piano
remind me as summer slides
into solemn September, your words, your smile, your heat,
and your scent.
Love is a canvass, a manifesto of indulgence as I breathe your name
on top of your thighs
and if by the remotest chance I manage to capture beauty
in verse,
if slowly the glow of the moon fades and the presence of empty space
becomes more apparent
then I would torch blandness with fire,
I have discovered that in life the paths that cross and go on
seldom meet twice.
A chalice of life is autumn who heeds not to the earthly lot,
who mourns the desolate and is devastatingly romantic,
I will never forget the adrenaline rush
the catch of breath and clouds in an apricot sky
when you first touched my face in the solitary passageway
read me that chapter again,
where the castle becomes the speaker and leads us through the age
I wonder what it would be like if we could rewrite history
a grey room with soft walls
where a world shattered by chaos is put together again
that’s all we shall yearn before we grow old and embrace the earth,
for as long as time is fleeting
it will teach us to make our lives meaningful,
you and I are joined by the same exquisite longing
this is my confession
as true as I am to my purpose, I will always find a way
back to you-
the moors, the lowering skies,
the ruins of a castle,
the ghosts of times long past and phantom tinkling of a piano
are witness.



Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for Wordy Monday with Wild Woman @ Real Toads

All black and all sweetness: Deep into the earth my conscience lies

Crowned with sun-kissed petals and moral culpability
I drag half of Greece to the dark side,
their memories
locked away in a room where winter writes poems
and where inhibitions are laid to rest.
The sky is a palette of gutsy silver awaiting form
and function,
I, a siren of the ancient islets, desire nothing but carnality
and dream of honey-dipped corpses,
pierced in the most glorious of agony until they fall into oblivion.
How can love be so unforgiving?
How can it rise past my jaded lips like a host of thoughts
why do tears spread like fire across smooth skin?
My words on a muted twilight tumble out just to be near him
only he doesn’t care to listen.
Carelessly I shuffle the light of day
releasing souls and such back to their normal state
for at night I allow my emotions to be true to themselves
there is no escape
when it comes to the heart
and a constantly wailing conscience,
or is there?


Photo credits: Pinterest

Bjorn challenges us to be an ‘unreliable narrator’ and
tell a story that is not ours, exaggerate and lie, but
think a bit on how to expose ourselves.

Posted on Weekend Challenge @ Real Toads

& Posted on ‘Open Link Night’ @ dVerse Pub

& Posted on Poetry Pantry @ Poets United