Morning II

A warm embrace,
Suddenly, the cold breeze graces
By in this strangely serene space.
The impish golden rays
Unbound and free,
As they sparkle where the shingles lay,
A disappearing act,
In an alluring pace;

Good morning,
The chaos recedes for another day,
The dewdrop remain in their gentle state,
A boderless hum,
As you bound around,
Live long and prosper,
The world remains, profound.

Tree of Life

Light and dark,
Life swirls in opposite parts,
Good and bad,
And the greys in between,
Take two – niceties and pleasant dreams,
Let go of the demons in between,
Night and dawn,
Like a Phoenix reborn,
Fearless and unafraid,
Take on the jaded spades,
Along they shall come,
Rising like the morning sun.


A little side story here – literally woke up to find the moon greeting me when I wrote this poem. Anyway, here goes

Under the guise
Of hyperactive serenity,
The wintry ones wander,
Awakened by the call.

Watch the moon,
Daintily serenading among the fog,
Over the rampant lights –
A subtle star, sparkling.

Twas a momentary find,
The blinding beauty
Bombarded past
The shadows of Midnight.

With the overlay,
Close your eyes,
Warmth and cold
Of you as one whole,
Whispering through the hull
The sweet lullaby,
Sleepless with drowsy eyes.

Never-ending Curiosity

Wandering by the window –
The soul of the symphony,
Singing a merry melody,
Thoughts twirling in a whirlwind. •
Warmth of the chaos,
Whispering through your soul,
The elixir of bliss,
Serenading through the fog.
The clouds of confusion,
Brimming like the froth,
This insecurity we are a part of,
Chiding our paths.
Intoxicated in ethereal murk,
Blinded by the possibilities –
How is she supposed to find perspective?
This is a perplexing reality.

Singer of dreams,
Why just few moments of glee?
Will she hold on?
Curiously, bygones bygone.


In the middle of the night –
She remembers,
The little things that used to
Twinkle past the sordid slumber;
The miracle of the moon,
The lightning striking into sparkling splendor,
Alone with the haunting quotes,
Sickly smile despite the frivolous foes.
Where did he go wrong?
No blood spilt,
Except those that form at the beginning of dawn.
White shades all appealing,
Singing while she’s screaming,
She is no longer believing,
The sky feels so unappealing.
The lies casted into the casket,
Buried beneath his charades with nightshades;
She chose silence,
And indeed the palpitation shall remain in the midst of her dreams.
Looking up is arduous, indeed,
Neither books nor colors can shade them green,
No quivering, nothing moves beneath
The covers except for the soul spilling into eternal treachery.


The sweetness of earth,
Clash of the shingles
And grasses brimming with their impish grin.
Like the glittering stars,
Light years away, the bricks of men
Burnt out of clay,
Here to stay,
She’s here to stay;
The scent of cinnamon,
Wafting through the streets,
It’s in the midst of lost space,
Where she shall find solace.
It was a wonderful day.

Black and White

The web of colors fade away,
And you will find life to be black and grey.
Like a suffocating fish on land,
We forge together a reckless band,
Piece by piece, we shall march;
The interludes shall make us succumb
To the paths were blood and despair would never do,
Yet, here we lay,
Awaiting the flower or mere bud
At the end of the fragile brigade,
Carry on, carry on,
We shall breathe for another day.


The stormy glee
Descended on the mortal realms.
In this hour of murkiness
A curve clashes to be set free;
The unconscious dance, and rythmn synchronized with each movement,
The impish kisses caught in the midst of nothingness,
Glance into the green,
The loyal one, indeed.
Residing in her heart,
The yellow takes her through a serene serenade,
Bring thy anguish,
and cast it into the breeze that tingles on the edge of thy lips.
Freedom, at last.

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