autumn, feminine, food

My Kitchen Empire

When my man is under the spell of elusive

raven nights, I carry in my bosom a long

-held secret, in glimmers of the faint

candle-light

 

I carefully lay my eyes upon the shelves of my

oriental kitchen, laden with my bridal 

copper pots & pans, embellished of

emerald peacocks and exquisite

Mughal florets.

 

My majestic Indian Mortar, Earthen Moroccan

Tagine lay enthroned midst the spice

bazaar, magical herbs gilded like

jewels in the crown of my

Kitchen Empire .

 

As I stir heavenly liquids against thick walls of

ashen pots the mushroom fumes of blunt

peppers, topaz turmeric soar much high

raising the temperatures of cold

Connecticut nights.

 

Uncle Sage and Aunty Rosemary sit beside me

all night whispering to me the magic that

will unfold tonight, as I stir the curry

in circles with all my might I often

shed a tear- or so on 

 my plight ,

 

The divine basil fills up my senses and assures

that things will go alright, while the ruby

peppers keep raising the temperatures,

and tiny sparkling drops crawls through

neck much to my annoyance.

 

Lamenting lemon appears, splitting into a glorious

vision of two, infusing with the clear waters

of great American Land quenching my

thirsts with concoction of fabled

lemonade. 

 

As the coterie of spices tinker in the pot, I realize

I need one more ploy and blow a puff of

aphrodisiac Fenugreek to stop the

ensuing battle tonight…

 

All this and more till oriental sun-rises on my imperial

Kitchen Durbar….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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let us you and I
autumn, Love, Nature, poetry

Let us you and I

Let us you and I once again

meet beneath the vast skies

hold hands and take long walks

 

In shadows of blushing trees of fall

on embellished carpets of florescent leaves

pour out the maladies of the souls

 

Listen in serenity few beats of our hearts

narrate to each other the ancient tales

of shooting-stars and broken hearts

 

Solitary nights and the bleeding cores

while taking youthful sips of  scarlet

wines flowing from the goblets of deep-sighs

 

Your fingers engraved on my wrists

souls fusing with souls, hearts-

melting with hearts

 

Let us you and I once again

meet beneath the vast skies…

 

 

 

autumn, Love, Nature, poetry

The Autumn Winds

You embraced my being like the fallen

withered leaves of  the deceased autumn

Shrouded me from the chills and breezes

I leapt on to you for the  tenders caresses

and fiesty cajolings, but  then you  went

away like the autumn winds, abandoning  

me at a site where once stood an ancient

tree the siloutees of whose roots still lurks

in the muddy grounds like shadows of your 

long embraces on my soul, the dry barren

heart like the decayed hollows of the dead

tree, I lingered on rootless through the

burial grounds wept and sobbed at the

passing of your warm kisses and gentle

touches just like the death of autumn of 

winds….

 

 

autumn, feminine, Love, Nature, poetry

Necklace of Pearls

Like beads of pearls

scattered on a polished

marble grounds, my

soul disintegrated into

thousand parts unknown,

scattered, knowing that

cancer of rage has spread,

the lumps of gloom are

growing, I a scavenger

picked on the left-over

carcasses once a

live breathing body

where blood flew like

streams of Tigris

now lay blue, cold

limpless, still pieces

have to be sorted-out

sown delicately like a

Necklace of pearls, 

worn on dark evenings

to hide gaunt neckline

devoid of any bloods

of forefathers, where

once flew gushing 

streams of Tigris….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ecstasy
autumn, feminine, Love, Nature, poetry

Pure Ecstasy

The melodious fluttering

leaves twirling, swaying

wooing petals of the

withered flowers doing  

belle on the softer

orchestras of the hollow

winds of majestic

autumns.

 

Shy veiled sun, playing

hide-seek from behind

the dark clouds, like

a coy bride with a

mischievous gleam,

trying to catch arousing

glances…

 

A lone bee hovering

on the left-over florets

suckling to the last

drops of heavenly

nectar for which many

virgins slained their

 lives…

 

An ecstasy took over

as if intoxicated of rich

wines from the barrels

of ancient Greek Gods

drowsiness of thousand

opiums seized  the

bodies.

 

My naked body scented

in the aromas of damp

Earth, handsome winter

softly draping me, coiling

me in his strong embraces

a passionate kiss of

morning dew on my

swelled lips,

 

Parched tongues asking

for more nectar, added

dew bites held tightly

against winter’s chest

sun coming out of veils

revealing its glory, dropping

all shames, layers…

drowsiness of thousand

opiums came upon

upon, pure ecstasy

of sheer release…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lullaby
autumn, Love, Nature, poetry

Lullaby of Bagpipers

On Celtic notes of bagpipers

on the vast green highlands

behind those infinite pastures,

swaying pristine cherry-blooms leaves

with the melodies of autumn 

winds, sits a mother nightingale

delicately twining, weaving ashen 

wigs to build a nest for land’s

cold harsh winters for her 

five little fragile babies  

on Celtic lullaby of

bagpipers.

 

On this brave land of martyrs 

dwells aching women

longing for their

wounded men

to come

home.”

 

 

One thousand and one deaths
autumn, Nature, poetry

One Thousand & One Deaths

am ready for the one thousand and one death,

unhurried torturous and slow painful even to grotesque

death, which I’ve embraced multiple times without

any peevish complaints of my fate, trampled and

trodden in the jarring folds of hefty Earth.

Since my conception in the unfathomable wombs

of rusty mud I carried within my exposed heart

an aching fright of the howls of shrieking winds.

Today  I lie decomposed a bleached carcass, a

bulbous mass of my former-self, insipid and pale.

The spectators can witness the mutilations of thousand

deaths incised on my bare veins as the raucous Earth

continues to compress me in her piercing buckles

grinding meat-loaf in an absurd Sisyphean procession

a futile, all a vain exercise, as I will rise again from

my frugal ashes, oozing out my aimless head born

from the vaginal tubes of the ashy soil, with a numbing

terror of the waling winds of sweeping autumn. Born

once again to die another one thousand and one deaths

just enough to cover a full circle.

.