Who am I, beyond this……

Sundown’s satiny rufescent, converges me reliably;

Punctuating lightly, this soaking evening.

Quicksilver surges wheedles me; this roosting shell;

Moistening my dried out wellsprings of nihilities.

 

Sunkissed granules underneath, emit a rhythm;

Their thawing breaths, mellow my wintry heart.

Numbness trickles evenly, conjuring life in my bushed senses;

Forking up a cherubic vox to my strains of recondite silence.

 

Yet, an unplumbed presence I be, to the snuggling winds;

Fathoming into me, a hoped tale of its spiritedness.

Woolgather I, etching my substance against the sand’s bosom;

Desiring to be an ephemeral essence in its everlastingness.

 

Image I myself, unwittingly, a sun endued shadow;

That sprucely mimes my callosity, in all panoramas.

Saltating with me, fazed, to melodic line of tides;

Playing hide and seek, alike the sunny gleam.

 

Search I, my tinge, amidst the ascending hues of dusk.

Who am I…….., beyond this calcified bulwark?

Unnamed, unvoiced, I wait for dawn’s halcyon beam;

To feel the velvety orbit of my tempered realm, again.

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Beneath the Canopy of Hope.

Churning clouds of stalking yesterday,
Wells over my staunch skies of today.
Lavishing caustic peltings of undated pain;
Stinging my groovy glean of repose, in vain.

Flitting flaps of self-will, curbed I stand;
Fending for my well-earned peaceable land.
Holding up the salvaging canopy of hope;
Feel I safe, summoning courage to cope.

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Winging Diamonds!

Elegant raindrops ensconce slow
On the chiseled leaves, they lightly row
Alike the exquisitely cut, fly-speck, lambent diamonds
Inventing an ineluctable spell in beaming hundreds
When the day’s ritual threshold is sedately shut
To slumber, all jaded flowers are tardily put
The silverish treasures glisten their best
Against the black nights’ velvety vest
As duskiness, fares to the close
Ended are the glowing shows
Rejoining the Eternity
Obviating Spree
They merely
Fly

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Amidst the Unknown Sands….

Dawn on me secretly my soulmate……..your saving grace;

Thaw my frozen down spirit along the Sun’s maiden rays.

Do not adjourn yourself from me, you, the absolute divine;

Redeem mercy to this iniquitous soul, to you, ever I entwine.

 

Consecrate me all over again with your intoxicating smile;

Avail me to steer still, this shimmying ship of tears for a while.

Played out to core, I am, tagging your moonily reflection;

Tranquilize me to reposeful sopor with your genial affection.

 

Kneeling in the autumn of life, imploring you to be the spring;

All the nests are bygone tales yet birds of hope blithely sing.

Rainfall pinks my door, frequenting as an unwished-for guest;

Enfeebling itself, pouring all but betraying to slake my thirst.

 

Despair tramping stealthily, is all I construe in this noisy air;

Do not rob me off my serenity, my silent and rightful share.

Quivers is my trusted desire in this unfeeling wintry cold;

Tune up my faith underneath your love blanket’s warm fold.

 

Stir up in me, the compassionate spark, and the holy will to live;

Pep up me to espouse your guiding light and justly forgive.

Tincture your remembrance in all my nescient voids of sense;

Beef up me to entomb the carking clouds of fears, so dense.

 

Secure me fondly with your lovesome lace, all night and day;

Let no anguish of yesterday or vex of futurity make their way.

Settle softly alongside me, kissing my frail and unnerved hands;

Embodying the known friendliness amidst the unknown sands….

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The Ethereal Silence of a Fallen Flower…

Nature’s in-frangible awesomeness, the balmiest splendor;

Gestates the everlastingly hexing beauty of wonder.

Oriented scant, are its sweet-scented moments on earth;

But the supernal beauty’s saga of esteem, has no dearth.

 

Keels it mildly to the coolheaded breeze, mirthfully perched;

Caressed euphorically with love and exquisitely attended.

Ornaments itself in the most burnished of the flushed red;

To the mesmeric redolence, this beaut is celestially wed.

 

Aborigine of grace, speaks the fine language of peace;

Love is its culture, modesty is its attire, carried in ease.

Echoes the raspy wind’s bell and tiny spirit is glad to kneel;

Descending graciously and thinly to ratify the death’s deal.

 

Its cushy petals autumn, fly and dry by the sun-baked heat;

But the memorable dawdling essence, reincarnate and repeat.

Profoundly fathoming is this suave and orphic flavored power;

Drawing me gently to the ethereal silence of the fallen flower.

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The Aureate Bosom!

An endearing eventide phasis of bliss is staging so fine;

Graced in elusive imbues of tangerine and burgundy wine.

The fagged wings are harking back to their ardent comfy nests;

Blanking out sweats of tomorrow and all their piddly quests.

Flowers enshrouding their beaut beneath the mantle of twilight;

Solely to evince their colorized grandeur in the day-spring, bright.

The musings in water are sousing in plethora of glinting gold;

Parading a spectacular statement of placidity, Elysian and bold.

Embracing is the dusking sun, the all-time upstage skyline;

Watching is its fervid adorer, swaying on the caramel shoreline.

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Winged Tale……..No more.

Born a cherubic birdie in the sulfurous times of the world;

Uprose it apace, needing to wing as high up as it could.

Autographed an unavowed tiny pipe dream on its wings;

Fingered glad and unassailable in its plumy little things.

 

Lightning wracked its comfy nest, in a doomed night storm;

Soaked up is the adult bird, whose feathers kept the birdie warm.

Stomached all the torment, the invalided birdie unable to fairly fly;

Squalled staidly, looming that its ciphered dreams would sure die.

 

Clock elapsed in haste and its fellow birds cut and ran their way;

Palpated the peril, as lonesome, it was highly unwieldy to stay.

Barbarous were the winds of world and tattered was its rest;

Swamped in icy rain, the birdie flapped in vain for its life’s quest.

 

Piloted in, a browny bird, cloaked in cleverly as a feathery friend;

Promising the birdie that its conked out wing, it would try to mend.

Banked the birdie, browny’s parole more than its one and only wing;

Reckoned the birdie, perching atop the maple tree, it could happily sing.

 

Days slipped away and bleached out were the birdie’s rainbow dreams;

Deplumed it was on each sun’s ascent, while curbed were its screams.

Long time glided by and little by little hushed up were its endearing songs;

Was cast off its nest remorselessly and browny abided others’ wrongs.

 

With breached wings and shriveled up heart, the birdie sighed in rain;

Calling God into question, “Feeding me pain, what did you gain?

If pronounce you that entrusting someone wholly, is my offence

Then how can I trust that you would someday speak in my defense?”

 

Pathetic to fly into the sky, wretched to die, hobbled the birdie all alone;

Chancing difficult to retrace the onetime path it took, too far it has gone.

Wings were irredeemably broken and its faith was terribly shaken….

In this unkindly world….will it survive even when everything is taken?

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