Wishes..

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year to all of you

"For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for a lifetime;
Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning"- Psalm 30:5

~Φ

Her Seed..

She basks
  In her warmth
The seasons change
  Her dissolute sins
are December's own
  that stays with season
making long forlorn
  but not so soon,
I hear her sing
  her, amongst us
could sense the spring
  withered leaves
from ground,
  soar back to her twigs
blooms emerge,
  in minutes to follow,
the nascent ripe,
  I listen, as she
eulogize 'bout
  cuddling feathers
in her refuge
  And 'bout leaves in passing
Wind, making love
  all, under her sun.
there she stands
  as if on a stylobate
supporting colossal
  skies spread above
caressing few colors too
  on the iridescent bow.
Ah, forgive me, for I
  have no clue of corporeal
existence, but felt her
  as the tree from the seed
buried inside this pensive mind

Wake up

Rise and seat yourself
 Upon the grave silent bed
Care for an insouciant smile
 For the dawn, today.
Walk & look out of
 Mauve draped window
Sheath yourself with
 the morning breeze
Let it make tangents on your skin,
 I would soon follow..
Look down to the boulevard green
 As the daisies look up to you
With life...

Painter

I paint your dreams
  from inside cauldron eyes
while you confabulate I'd bleach
  realities to tungsten blue
yawn and yearn while I'd re-sketch
  dusk with burning sienna
you'd live a different dream,
  in my dreams, tonight
may be once, so you could smell
  the paints, with which I
continue to paint your life...

Untitled

I

Throne of Izmit,
 In love,
Surreptitious one.
  With spring she arrives,
To stay till fall
  A quarter's love
As 'twas
  This winter though
At his door step
  She stands
And so
  The December beside,
Structures of Byzantine
  Looks oblique
To her curves,
  Or so he feels
He lets them
  And leads 'em
To his ochre yard,
  There, under nascent
Turkish night's
  Dull illumination
The orgy begins..

II

Him. Her. The December
  Soon ochre turns white
White as milk. Virgin. White
  Under blankets of
Gossamer flakes
  Each takes turn
Revealing the
  Other from the folds
Of embrace.
  Serendipitously.
Kissing.
  Teasing,
With rose buds
  And lips.
Him Hers, Her, his
  Every streak of
Disheveled hair
  He clears off
Her face
  A kiss he delivers.
Kiss for a kiss, so does she
  And so the December
In between.

III

There’s no dawn.
  Not in this yard at least
Wouldn’t matter, if there so be.
  Whispers and moans linger.
Venus in act.
  Shy orchids bow
Frail petunias bend.
  Prince, he jousts amid pristine
Whites. Virgin red
  December, she smothers
Mahogany creaks
  Pearl drops of sweat
Plays pitter-patter
  On her forehead from his
Summer heat. Descends
  As she cleaves all over.
Blown smithereens
  Inside each other
Still they lay, entwined
  Night is not petulant
To souls in eurhythmy,
  to be kindled by insatiable
December again..