Madam Giselle
feminine, Literature, poetry, satire

Madam Giselle’s Tragedy

“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?

But a little pride is not bad for a woman of my type!

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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 !

 

cacophony
Inspiration, life

Move On !!

For few dimes less in our pockets  

don’t fret ,let’s just move on….

Around you are bigger mansions than 

the squalor you dwell in don’t think

let’s just move on… 

Watching your only child play with

herself again, simply smile and

let’s  just move on…

The neighbour got a sparkling new

car, one that you will never own let be

and let’s  just move on….

Once again the boss didn’t bother  to

shack your hand, let it be and 

just move on….

The famed little black dress deceived 

you once more, it never fit you right?

Don’t sink ,just move on…

You waited enough for that kiss whose 

taste you never had …

Move on for there are no penance or

redemption yet, not everything in the

world  has a reason nor everything

meant to make any sense! 

 

 

 

 

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!

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!