The lemonade tinged sky reeks of magnum thunder and I sip the cups of scented rain diffused in the air. Tulips dipped in vase like wine glass drink the water poured by me in the morning to keep them fresh for a little too long. Behind faded windows, we both glance the clouds ripping apart as their violent bursts of anger collide with the shivering trees. One of the thousand verses of poetry melt on my palms as the orange glow of skirted streetlights smile at me endlessly. The stubborn fragrance of rain coated smiles swallow the clumsiness of the town as strangers walk on the empty roads, perhaps to catch with their duties or just to wander aimlessly. Bubbling train's whistle wave at the summer sun playing hide and seek with the cloud's child.Our hearts, young and naive suppress the violent distorted melodies while soothing in the lap of silence. Flickering the spotlight of a chandelier in my eyes, I utter "Thank you" for the nature's delight.
Monsoon knocked at my door with a bunch of silver birch trees neatly folded in an envelope.
Skies painted in swift strokes of scarlet gloss is a refugees's camp to my woebegone eyes.The vintage streets drenched in summer rain is a sincere listener to the distant tune of longing glinting in my nerves. A polished truth clasping on the edges of your heart is the renaissance portrait your rose petaled love has painted that resembles my face.
You couldn't comprehend the pink glow settling slowly above your eyelashes and you were benighted in profound darkness to explain me. Love is a feeling too deep that unbolts the crevices of your soul and constructs a furnished rustic chalet that you carry along wherever you go.
You believed in maktub well aware that time can spin it's pedestal in the wrong direction and so can the person you have fallen for but that feeling dwells far above the naive touch of falsity. A gorgeous gushing of musical lyres that goes beyond the periphery of ordinary. There's no wayfarer seeking truth or fear of being on the wrong edge, just the cresting impatience of confessing your love under the crushing ecstasy.
The violet linen of night sewed on my lips walks through the hallways of daydreams which have become my sole companion to drift away from the shuffling separation as destiny was too cruel to let us stay together.
I dwell upon the rainbow flames twerking on the clouds where dragonflies under the bronze toned sky kiss their reflection on a calm lake sprinkled with sunlight. Under the shadow of sage leaves who flaunt the raindrops fallen of them during monsoon showers, I breathe in the heavenly garden of my mother's heart brimming with a ocean of pure love for me, she's a kind human who cares for other people more than herself but plants while lilies and red cotton flowers that blooms only for me.
The ancient scriptures inscribed on the tall monuments glittering with gold are the teachings spoken by her that nurtures my soul. The coos of dove are a prelude to the gentle sunrise which plasters it's yellow warmth on the grassy meadows, deciduous forests and well pruned vineyards.
Romanticizing the season of autumn in plum poetries, I found a permanent shelter on the half moon bridge of winter. In the platoon of sestina poem, I am the scorching verses of a heart broken poet.
Light leaks from the leaves of the sugar apple trees after feasting on fresh fruits and touches the morning petrichor sungazing on the ground. The holiday lights snore unapologetically as the hustle and bustle of the busy city is added as a preservative in the jar of January juice being served on the first Sunday of the calendar year.
Twenty minutes have already passed in the hunting of the novel I left unread on Pg 243 last night. I am wandering helplessly in the woodland of my house with arrows shooting from my eyes, hitting on the kladeoscopic titles resting on the bookshelf and weapons oozing out of my hands, digging the scattered clothes and littered table. Giggles slice the silence in the air and crash on my ears. I peep out of the window in the garden to trace the source of its origin.
Winter wearing blue sunglasses is sunbathing while resting comfortably on the chaise longue. Laughing hysterically with joy, holding a hot mug of coffee in one hand while other clutched on the novel which was the treasure of my hunt. I cannot calm the fury down while screaming it's name.
The olive leaves whispered in hushed voices the arrival of downpour as the magenta toned sky erupted in rage as if the bottle of celestial liquid got stolen by devils on the streets of heaven, black roses slip in the arms of winter twilight and rain in December feels like echoing footsteps of some magestic army laden with royal horses, swords and weapons. flickering flames frolic in the foggy roads of my eyes, my heart walks on the stepping stones to those empty castles I once strolled through with a glorious pair of eyes sprinkling a spoonful of rainbow powder in every millisecond of my life.
I stared at the sluggish coconuts snooring in the shelter home owned by fresh green leaves glistening the pink glow of a baby's face, feet submerged in the warm sand like a half melted candle standing on a wooden table. I smiled at the glance of the beloved sun bathing my face in the pleasant rays of summer sunset while the breeze of dusk whispered a handful of secrets from the box echoing melodies of white pigeons who were exploring the vast orange sky while my eyes dived in the pool of magical charm of the sea waves.
Dusk drenched in lavender blossomed canister slowly diffuses in my eyes, resting upon the snowflake clouds as they unfurl the magenta carpet on the rooftop of my house.I breathe solace air leaked from keys of the grand piano being played in the high school drama of young rainbow. Monsoon dances on the castle of crimson sky, wiping off the dried leaves of cruel summer.
Tempest slips it's fingers in brass knuckles and punches on the curtained windows. A whirlpool of fallen leaves in my velvety lawn waves at it.
Boiling the half baked sunlight with basil and rosemary on a low flamed gas stove, raindrops creep from the backyard wearing the smile of a mischievous child. Drunk on the claret wine of lightning and, thunder stumbles on the hallway weeping and screeching it's grief-stricken love tale that no one wants to hear.
Drizzle walks upon the ground like a damsel holding her stunning gown laced with ribbons and rosettes.Her pristine touch unlocks a caged bird called petrichor from beneath the soil which dissolves mystical charm all around. An explosion occurs when cargo ships loaded with grenade rainfall drowns in a shipwreck of hailstorm.
Monsoon staggers on my shoulders as raindrops slide from my loosely tied hair. A sanguine smile lingers on my lips as I receive the reply to my letter of love that I had wrote during the midday summer time when my heart was wrapped around a paper boat of our nostalgic memories.
The silken skies- an ornate labyrinth of chiffon stars,walnut moon and classic silence was my perfect muse that night, I intended not to write a sad poetry but it turned the intense of all as if stroked with fine layers of darkness.
My eyes traced dew drops of tears. melting from edges of the wrinkled paper, words strangulated to bleed pure grief, perhaps the bottled pain of a troubled soul leaked from the secret closet of the moon and slowly dissolved in the waterfall of moonlight I was filling in my pen to write fushsia toned poetry; someone's tinkling droplet lurking in the 105th floor of the skyline fell and landed between my words scattering tiny wildflowers of pain.
Many eyes are captured by the starry night and caramelised tranquillity, but some eyes only see the patches of blackness loitering between the luminous bulbs; The night sky is a graveyard for the weeping souls who empty buckets of pain and dump it, only to get refilled again and again.
laus_deo@sugarfree I saw the comments in his reposts and I don't know the others which he isn't reposting. You can just see the following and check the posts of his following then you will get to know. But why waste this much time do something productive rather.
Violet ringlets dangled over the shoulders of caramel dusk, sicklemen were reaping silvery stars in orchards and clustering vineyards of skies. Green vibrant eyes of an old man blended with the creeking of a bronze door amidst the clouds. He placed the hot mug of authentic Turkish coffee on the rosewood table and placed the tip of one finger against the point of his chin, laid the head over to one side and gave a solemn smile.We sat in silence for a full minute while the air between us gulped sand sacks, got heavier as if we both wanted to speak and yet had nothing to say.
The drowsy sun glinted off the sleek roof of my house like a high velocity train racing skywards, standing on the threshold of a spectacular door waved at me.People think the faint dispersed rays at twilight captures my heart.Little do they know the profound loneliness that shelters in my iris gazing it's last glimpse when the sun wipes off it's warmth scattered around and darkness rains from the clouds like liquid charcoal stealing the night upon daylight. The moon appeared in a smokey quartz Rolls Royce car with his fellow luminous stars,attired in glittery clothes and invited all sort of people from earth to join them amidst the neon lights and throbbing music in the nightclub.A part of the luminous sun - the moon swayed with brimming pride.
My sleepy jar dropped on the tiled floor, broken upon the warm shaft of sunlight that filtered down the glassy windows .The everloving hands caressed my hair and the coo of woodpigeons polished the marble morning with rising tempo in my arched smile gazing the shimmery silver hair of the old man. His visage reflected a lifetime of power and vigorous intellect,some mystical cham swirled up till the ceiling, consuming darkness. A pleasant warmth steamed through my entire cold body when a familiar deep , mellifluous voice greeted me 'Good Morning.'