Flower Wreath
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Literature, Love, poetry, Self-Help

Pride of A Flower Wreath

Weaved with a lot of skill and compassion

Oblivious stood erected in disdain 

Persian turquoise, Indian indigo…

You name it, and I had flowers of different valleys

Bathed in egotism, adorning-robe of pride

Relishing my pristine appearance, while

Scorning others, self gloating was my sin

Sure of my fate, to be embellished at 

reception decor Of heavenly virgin bride, 

I Spoke meticulously the tongue of vanity,

My artisan a blind simpleton 

Crafted me with great virtuosity 

A connoisseur of colors, arranged

Silk flowers with tears filled with pity 

But I basking in the glory of self adulation 

Elated, high browned  looked down on him.

On other customary bunches, turn after turn

Dates after dates,  final day arrived wrapped in laced

White Upholstery, escorted in a black Lemo

to a town of a black widows, shrieking wailing 

unwelcomed my arrival, roughly handled and bruised 

was placed on a coffin of one senile old man, whose

only act of courage was a piece of land where he 

was to buried.

 

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leaves
Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

Psalms

When I was young, I believed in

emerald elves & golden goblins,

they lived in tranquilly behind

the tall elephant grasses, a glee

takes over my face when I see

vision of the whispering cloud

A raven grim hovering around

murmuring secrets of azure skies

I can overhear the gentle cries

of sullen crickets in intricate colonies

Unlike man there are no phonies

tremendous peace and calm

prevails amidst melody of nature’s

Scared Psalms !

 

promised land
Love, Nature, poetry, Travel

Migrant

A migrant, I’ve no tales

of herculean tragedy

to my name, you see

not every trip is planned

nor every destination

fixed, it was a chance I

stumbled upon few roads

knowing one day I’ll go

back, I walked hesitatingly  

meeting few along ,aware

that home is a person we

go back to, my golden

abode is calling, my time

here is running out but

I’ve one more path to 

undertake before I call

it a day!

wind's tale
Literature, Love, Nature

Murky Clouds

Gentle translucent dew drops

brought along murky clouds

on grey chariots of northern winds

taking me in their mighty clutches 

tossing, spinning me to the

dimensions of the other world, 

as rays of amber Sun descended

on the eclipsed horizons, the  

mighty chariots of Northern winds  

froze in eternity and I once again

came back from the hell! 

Persian Laila
Humour, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, satire, wit,

The Persian Laila

Having feasted past-midnight, PersianLaila got up lazily at the stroke of twelve. Wearing her sparkling tiara, she rose with a numbing headache resultant of a hangover,

Caused by the left-over French champagne that she drank greedily from the China glass of her Benevolent master.

Her master’s darling she occupied a special place in his cozy lap and abhorred the site of her pot-bellied mistress,

For Laila considered her as a staunch-competitor and purred when ever she dared come near especially at long intervals of midnight drinks .

She would adorn herself on the left thigh of master and lick heavenly nectar only from the corner his pinkish wrinkled hands.

A site to behold midst bubblingchampagne and the smoke of expensive Cuban cigars. Her blue eyes drunk with envy and rage, she fought hard and with everyone for her master’s attention.

On rare occasions of evening strolls, she would walk with snobbish air and displeased countenance on the cobbled streets of rustic New York

Looking down with disdain on all other pussies in the town as she deemed them to be too causal and boring in the appearance,

For Laila came from the Persian peninsula from the house of the grand pasha of Azerbaijan, her great-grandmother the dark-eyed Hoorie was a favorite of the sultan-Suleiman

And what a cherished presence on all matters important of every concern but was slain on one moonless night by the jealous ladies of Sultan’s Harem,

All were fine, till troubles started to brew, for master was a man of excess and one Persian damsel was not enough and yearned for another beauty to occupy the vacant right thigh!

So brought a petite French this time, Annabella who had a legacy of her own, for she came-from the family of Master pastry chef, Monsuier Jean Paul employed in the house of King Louis XII

Both pussycats couldn’t look each other in the eye for both was endowed with looks and style to charm any.

One fine day while the master was away, in a brawl with each other both got their tails entangled, the mistress had enough and decided to sail one of them away…

And who better than the Persian Laila, for she was never in her good books. Hence a plan was hatched and poor Laila was swiftly hurried off to live with an old woman in quite a corner

Of the town and master was told a tale of how she eloped with neighbor’s Valentino who had-no history to boast of. 

Annabella now the reigning queen while Laila spent her time remembering the days of glory gone by.

wound
life, Love, poetry, Uncategorized

Wounded

I don’t carry with me golden strings

of pompous words, nor an embroidery

of the  embellished locutions for 

what I carry in me is a bleeding heart

from where words gush out a greenish

pus from decomposing wounds forever

in loop for they never heal, as my brain

keep playing the same slapstick movie

again and again, my miserable spirit

trapped with in the grotesqueness of 

familial events, angered and then

sobered again!

Desires
Love, Nature, poetry

Lofty Desires

I aimed for the mountain

top while rare florets ooze

from the ground

beneath me, I longed

for the sparkling stars

neglecting the lapis lazulis

laying on the beds of the mighty rivers 

I craved to suckle on the

heavenly nectar, while

bees synchronized intricate

combs in my backyard

then when the dusk spread

its raven wings, I reclined

on my couch, cursing

the Fortuna for the missed

chances in Paradise, while

the orchards around prepare

for the early fruition.

couple
Love, Nature

Elysium (Paradise)

The moment when your glance fell on me

rivers of lust flew surging so many emotions

opening fissures of my soul, but as I stretched

my hand to feel the warmth of that glint, it

evanesced into a fourth dimension, as I

lay sunken in golden bed of desires, each

cell in my body bathed in your after-shadow,

that amorous silhouette engraved on my

bronze heart, aching for one last time 

the perfect rapture of bodies ,for the final

communion of my parched lower lip with your

upper lip, where dwells million diamond

dew drops, my sole pathway to 

Elysium after death!