(xvii) lucubration…..

Love –

“nights in white satin
( never reaching the end….)”

Faith –

“and you want to travel blind.
and you know that she will trust you,
for you’ve touched her perfect body
with your mind…..”

Conflict –

rejection
and the silence beyond words.

‘al di la….’

(ix) Have you heard the mountains cry?

‘Tis loaming and an ill-paced sigh
sobs adumbral patterns in gloom,
and rising from the crags on high
a heart-rending sepulchral cry,
as an echo, whimpers to its doom.

From the magma-ocean, mantle plume
rising to cool this febrile core,
as a surge of verse, parsed-pantoum,
like some drama enacted sans costume
wells up in eyes – rolls to the floor…

(x) Gold….

All that is stramineous,
runs in crooked, fine, veins
beneath the mantle;

All that is precious above
the vaults, of her daedal earth,
is less compared to the lustre
in her eyes when she smiles.

All that is auricomous,
gathered as ochroid dust,
by her minions, when she in
languid disgust tosses her mane;

sets worlds afire, with nonchalance….

(xi) hermit

I would lead you gently by the hand,
tip-toe through that mystical land;

walk through mist and dark intrigue,
another mile, a half a league;

til the journey’s end is done….

and we are never, ever again,
alone.

(xiv) love, naturally….

moss gathers stone wall in it’s arms
…there is the verdant summer embracing her.

the softness of her form,
the firmness of her throne;

and the beauty the season wears…

(xvi) one word

An aeolian enterprise;

perse-tinged zephyr,
the caliginous expanse
of night’s tresses pester;

coruscation in her eyes,
sculpt each venial qafir
to a penitent impasse;

as softness of lips whisper,
plot a subfusc surprise…

Aeolian enterprise….one.

(xii) eight words

Hushed canopy of stars,

watch the moon tread

the crest of the lake,

in muted gibbous glory;

havoc in a dead-beat heart.

Familiar panic attack.

(xiii) phantom itch

her memories, the shiver of a breeze
on placid lakes where moonshine leaves
imprints, ever lambent, always coruscating.

her thoughts, the auburn in her hair,
silken, satin, downy-soft and sanguine;

smooth as wine one in her eye is prospecting

(iv) Winona….

Broken hearted, lavender sky, drips
amethyst tears on her unstirred lake;
calm eyes, cold breath, unquivered lips,
a breast that love would soon forsake.

Blood-drenched waters, viscous spread,
lachrymose in lilac his half-sobbed sighs,
a heliotrope horizon which for her has bled,
that which trickled from his stilled skies….

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