feminine, Love, poetry, woman

Armory

I wink at the half-truths with the kohl liner,

breath lies through blushes and mascara

click on those heels when the roads act rough.

Ensemble an armory of every feminine bluff,

and then put on that red lipstick to laugh

at the follies of this little world.

Happy Women’s Day ❤️

black and white abstract painting
feminine, life, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

Dawn

You my dear love, like a sceptic shock

entered my limbs and gave me a

a wasted kiss.


A lazy embrace which lay stretched

like hollow streets, hyper, hypnotic I ran

towards those sepia streets.


Time didn’t freeze, as it never does,

Yes! Sun will be the Moon tomorrow;

never doubt what the blind women say.


Wind withers on letting her raven hairs

down, making way for that barefooted

dreary dawn.


To descend coyly in the wedding gown

and embrace the Sun and the Sewage;

You and me in it’s sandy shroud.

Madam Giselle
feminine, Literature, poetry, satire

Madam Giselle’s Pride

“Makeupum Divina lipstickum 

Hail Oh, scentum , perfumee lios

Goddess Stilettum que sara sara”

Madam Giselle woke up to one glorious afternoon,

and damn those long-long lashes stretching little

over than the river Nile. Sparkling stilettos towering 

way above the heights of the leaning Towers of Pisa!

Having Insight 24 inches waist Madam stretched her back,

skillfully squeezed her belly to adorn golden Victorian 

corset, but it wasn’t to be easy for Gods have conspired and

were hell bent to bring down the penniless heiress from the

25 floor Ivory Castle.

As madam painted her face white with crushed powders of

corals from the far-off Gulfs in the fashions of Japanese Geisha

Fluttered fake lashes, ostentatious snobbish smiles extending

little more than her chiseled jaws, heavily armored with

 French powder and perfumes.

All the effort to slay any man who dare to passed by, hurriedly made

her way through the narrow allies of apartment suit in a

perpendicular fashion to avoid crushing her precious creases.

Oh so much pride, such high vanity, but she is indeed a beauty!

Tragedy fell upon! A loud thunder as heavens roared

heels cracked the sparkling Stilettos fell apart before her careful

gaze giving way to the bare ankles. It was to be the

first omen,

Acrimonious beings floating  fluttering in air laughing,

giggling; a loud thunder & descended million unwelcome

tiny crystal droplets, soaking the kohl smudged eyes

cascading into pools of black waters….

“Why it had to happen to me” ,cried Madam Giselle

Was my crime to be in vain or was it just a naive disdain?

For tell me folks is
little pride bad for a woman of my type? 

kitchen
feminine, Inspiration, poetry, Self-Help

An Ordinary Beauty

Today once again in
a celebration of a beauty
so ordinary, blew me a candle. 
Ordered a velvet cake 
smeared some face paint.
Put on those choo heels 
and performed ablutions to Medusa
The goddess of our kinds 
hollowed eyes, sunken cheeks 
Frizzy hair, flabby flesh 
Sagging bosom, plunging neck 
Echoing an average tale 
Of a working woman’s face 
Not your usual Grecian model 
Nor Venus, nor Aphrodite,  
No circassian wasp-waisted
beauty embellished in Indian jewels 
but very own pin-up doll in
the living room just back from
Nine to five shift, sultrous
hot and sweaty as hell, 
Crownless queen of a 
Bankrupt sultanate, a familiar 
Unsung belle in the kitchen of your harem 
Tinkling copper pot and pans, 
Ruffling golden knives and forks 
Castrated in a golden cage 
Woman of a ruined withered ottoman sultan.   I’ll give you kiss

and show you my moves

first let my water my plants…

feminine, Humour, life, Love, Nature

Miss That Girl

I miss that girl who,

would run wild, and

was always ready to

smile without  breaks.

She loved without care

When the things 

got tougher simply

cried her heart out.

and life would get 

straight again, ideals

were lofty , heels

higher and memories

ran sharper, food

was always warm 

and drinks forever

bubbling…

Now many springs

later that girl

seek reasons to 

laugh, tears don’t

descend to heart’s

desire, lovers have

gone senile, running

requires plastic knee-

caps and heels are

trimmed to two inches

mark ,forgetfulness is

the way of busy life,

while food requires

a careful watch, the

bubbling drinks be

better left off…

Life might never be

straight again ….

I miss that girl!

desire mightier
feminine, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, Self-Help, woman

No Desire Is Mightier

I know not…

Was it a dream or a drowsy opiate slumber?

As I stood on a tortured sea-shore

and cast my eye on the swollen waves

passionately  kissing my naked feet

making love to me with a brutish force

taking me in its azure vinyl embrace

slowly grasping my flaming flesh with

a fiery I’ve never known before,

an uproar a stir in my fragile body

exhausted since centuries of decay

the foamy saline waters entering in me

through all nook and corners, fissures and holes

mixing in all the violent blues with the

crimson reds, crawling stealthily like million

serpents, wriggling gushing upwards

Oh! a sensation a loud roar within

a rapture somewhere, an euphoric elation

an electric jolt worth thousands bolts!

My enslaved body in an act of consummation

so strong, my heart-ached, soul-shuddered

at the violation so brutal, like a hapless bird

caught in a nib of a savage Falcon from the

far-east, I let it happen without any contest

Why? Because I possessed it too and let loose

the cinders of  ancient fire burning in me

for I didn’t surrender, and let it go on without

a single doubt or shame nor did I curse

the gods above, knowing that no desire is

mightier than the other, for yearnings

have the same frenzy everywhere.

But I know not…

Was it a dream or a drowsy opiate slumber?

Madam Giselle
feminine, Love, poetry, satire, wit,, woman

Ms. Matilda’s Woes

Ms. Matilda woke past the noon,

swooning to the Beethoven’s sad tune.

A mysterious ailment swipes,

over the modern women of her types.

These curious cases of daddys’ princesses,

of colossal estates and multiple mates.

Are inflicted with malady of swinging moods,

making them shudder at matchless boots.

Ms. Matilda sitting still in her bedclothes,

howled remembering how at,

the party last night, enemy women clapped

secretly when her golden heels zapped,

and as her crimson lipstick chapped;

she knew her teddy heart is in for a snap.