Autumn Cherry

Under the moonlit sky;
Blossoming cherry,
Petals doth fly!

Sweet cherry blossom
Thy lingering scent;
Travelling in autumn,
With thy consent.

Stunned by the beauty
Surrounding magical night.
Gazing upon mutely,
Wondering in delight.

Blooming cherry tree
Soft pink perfection.
Pure radiating bliss,
Thy sole confession.

Under the moonlit sky;
Blossoming cherry,
Petals doth fly!

 

(The Autumn Blooming Cherry, i.e “Prunis subhirtella Autumnalis” is a beautiful flowering cherry tree that blooms twice a year)

Photo Credits:  www.tumblr.com

Posted for Midweek Motif @ Poets United

Posted on Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads

Passion

romantic_love_couple_smiling_wallpaper

Hark! bloweth life,
Into a stone.
Nay! Thy heart,
Doth I disown.

Thou art a votary,
To fond desire.
Tis passion of late,
Which thee conspire.

Thy passion is such,
As fiery ember!
Thee scent,
Tis fathoms,
Suave lavender!

Hark! bloweth life,
Into a stone.
Beguile thy senses,
With bourguignon.

Ye riveting gaze,
Much like a maze.
Setting thy heart,
Thoroughly ablaze!

Tis passion which sets,
Thy life asunder.
Lying awake into the night,
Reminiscing thee,
With sheer delight!

Hark! bloweth life,
Into a stone.
Nay! Thy heart,
Doth I disown.

 

Photo credits:  pixshark.com

Posted for Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

Cherry – Quite Contrary

Enchanting Cherry;
Pink blossoms do entice.
Blooming  beauty;
Through the night.
Offering such sacrifice.

Gather around,
Stunning sight!
Pixies dancing;
Through the night.

Beneath the blossom,
Unwinding often.
Features soften;
All muddles forgotten.

Enchanting Cherry;
Pink blossoms do entice.
Blooming  beauty;
Through the night.
Offering such sacrifice.

 

Photo credits:  pixgood.com

Posted On Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads

Hour Of Midnight

It was the time,
Around midnight.
Thy senses void;
Lacking insight.

In the darkness,
It slowly crept.
Slithering across;
Step by step.

Until at dawn,
To utter disbelief!
Corpses lying heaped!
Swiftly, horror seeped.

Before thee knew,
The world hath ceased!
Killings amid;
Thee horrid beasts!

A glimpse of the end,
Was all hath caught.
Women and children,
Fully distraught!

None of these things,
Felt righteous to thee.
The truth, alas!
It could not be!

What could be done?
Grievously thy thought!
Peace and sanctity,
Itching to be sought!

 

Photo credits:  www.tumblr.com

Posted for Midweek Motif @ Poets United