Mystic Trail

A trace of hazy mist,

I pace in pearly tryst.

My mind in loops of night,

to find solace in light.

Milky way curls to sing,

hopes sway in silver spring.

At dawn a trail of dreams,

I yawn as my heart beams.

*This poem has been written using the Essence rhyme poetry form created by Emily Romano which is a short, structured form of 2 lines. There are six syllables in each line, with an end rhyme and an internal rhyme. The internal rhyme is across 2 lines only. This poem uses different rhyming pattern for the four sets of couplets.*

Grandpa's Tree

The lush mango tree in blooming youth

dances to the whispers of summer breeze,

I remember grandpa's sheer joy in his eyes

bubbling a world of stories as he'd planted it.

His love and fatherly care in those sprouts

made green leaves drip shimmering kindness

on moonless nights, wrapped in mystic blankets

as he taught me folk songs playing his flute.

Ten years later, the mango tree reminds me

his kindness, love and grace in strength

to be sprinkled in a world without him

ripe sweet mangoes gifts bestowed on me.

A glimpse of white clouds peeping through leaves

swaying with wind seems like his symphony

dancing on flute echoing folk songs in my memory.

A tender shade of tranquility in my life,

grandpa remains with me in a mortal world

cocooned in the branches of his old tree.

Nature's Dance

Blue robin in garden sings a soothing song,

dew drops dance in rings blushing all along,

skew golden rays of strings covering a furlong,

new dawn of rebirth brings summer here daylong.

Few butterflies sprout wings to fly lifelong,

strew colors on rushing springs where they belong;

queue of red ants clings to branches too strong,

view to a world of little kings all dressed wrong.

This is a rhyming poem with triple rhyming scheme, i.e., in every line, the first, middle and end words rhyme with each other.

Role Reversal

His hands clasped tightly, one in mine, one in mother's. Days of baby steps made us nod in encouragement -- we let go. Daddy took his first balanced steps post crash. A memory of joy, watching him walk again.

dad's first leap of hope

puddles of joy held my breath--

gleaming roles reversed 

*This poem has been written using the Japanese Haibun form(invented by Japanese poet Matsuo Basho) which is a prosimetric literary form that he used to combine elements of Chinese prose genres with Japanese haiku themes. The range of haibun is broad and frequently includes autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem,short story and travel journal. Each haibun must have a title, followed by a short prose-like paragraph. Afterward, a simple poetic haiku (three lines of 5,7,5 syllables respectively). A haibun may record a scene, or a special moment, in a highly descriptive and objective manner or may occupy a wholly fictional or dream-like space.The accompanying haiku may have a direct or subtle relationship with the prose and encompass or hint at the gist of what is recorded in the prose sections.*

Enticing Glance

In a room bubbling exuberance

and a gaiety crowd dancing to beats

we sit across each other ten feet apart,

his whispering pulses become audacious

every second approaching my heart

and I shiver as they unravel my layers,

intimate desires beneath naive smiles.

Flickering lights on his velvet skin,

topaz brown eyes decipher my love,

unveiling pearls behind chandeliers

as I make nervous moves to blanket them

in timid blinks of my lush orchard,

but he knows for I see him smile,

his blazing patience till we escape

this cacophony to face each other in euphoria.

Beads of sultry lemonade on his lips 

kiss my fingers as I touch my glass,

he seems jealous of my crystal earring

embracing my cheek, entwined with my hair

and I envy his cotton white shirt

draping his ocean of passionate dreams.

He folds his sleeves, I tie my locks,

we've taken our first steps,

now ten steps apart drenched in mists

of our heated breaths we float at night,

our glances intermingled in frequencies,

that only our fingers can decode in smoke,

weaving patterns in the air between us,

my anklets kiss my fragile feet,

embellished in raging storms we drown,

in waves of hushed union escaping through vents

of a moment standing still known just to us,

pouring through crevices that moisten parched lands.

He has read my fantasies in folded memories,

electric touch flaming my passionate side

as his fingers hold mine in our recluse.

We've made love without physical touch,

and now we dance on pearls of octaves

intertwined with beats on the surface,

curling in laced rhythms of ancient ragas.

Forlorn Gift

He just signed a grand contract

in curves of ink I worship now,

memories of writing on frayed pages

fade with twirling winds of time.

Dark ages of catastrophic wars

lit by my poured hope in desk lamp.

His grandmother healed prisoners in pain

with their agony preserved in diaries,

legends, hope, lost days of love,

they narrated, she wrote, I absorbed.

Ah! What freedom I'd experienced

being a scribe's magic wand of faith,

a light to the tattered world in rags

shone across grey skies to guide

derelict souls with valor on journeys,

I'd been a mighty sword in disguise.

Gifted to him in a transformed world,

beneath crumbling desires I weep,

I crave to pen emotions not business,

my brave stories in graves asleep.

Orchard of Perspectives

       

         Black boxes atop a vintage shelf
            adorned with dust of opinions groan.
               Oh they are overweight with burdens
                  quivering to shed a few genuine thoughts
        but they burn in the fire of red dragon
             that engulfs snow-clad valleys somewhere
                 or those driven by processed thoughts
                    cocooned in silver foils of inclination
             Insane frenzy still remains for verdicts
         declared by those deemed righteous
      yet this orchard boasts of supremacy.
    I've bubbled a thousand crimson ideas
       nascent and pious they seemed to me.
         Alas! we all have been presumptuous
           every human is conditioned thus to be.

         A folklore lost in the Indian ocean
            fills my blue cup to the brim
              'succumb to the obvious or breathe'.
                 My bougainvillea seeds sprout in cacophony,
        I let them dance in multiverse of drops
           my eyes witness dimensions in perspectives
               stagnant rivers now rush to travel
                 as far as my mind opens rusty gates
        displaced neutrons explode in a Big Bang
            here's to another beginning of existence.
               My mind sprays fragrance of blue roses
                  extinguishing raging flames of supernova.
        This trench needs to be extended
           beyond seven seas and continents of Rome,
              let bees and butterflies fly in unbiased harmony
                 to suck nectar and produce infant honey.

      I've planted my primrose of valor and hope
         in the orchard of perspectives at last,
           wiped dust of assumptions from black box
              wrapped in banana leaves under oak tree.
      I'm not free of my opinions but let them be
          no longer do I succumb to frenzied wars.
             I've got a song for my cuckoo to orchestrate
                my tunes absorb opinionated fumes in universe
    and crush them till they nourish aroma of light
         that builds an abode for explorers that roam
             in a luminescent entropy of ideas that flutter
                around judgement but not pulled down by it
        pumping superimposed energy to newborn pearls
    that breathe free with all perspectives.

Maze

    I've been tracing the starry sky with little dots,
       my fingers dancing in diverging paths of knots,
   I long for a curl leading to a slumber in blues,
       through these sinuous rivers my thoughts cruise.
   A garden of warmth, my woolen scarf I nuzzle,
       my nose itches against the embroidered puzzle,
   I remember mother's fingers turning with devotion,
      beautiful threads twisting on the scarf in motion.
  "How do you identify the threads in that maze?"
      I would often ask following the needle in daze.

  "Oh you just need to hold on to a single strand,
      and knit or loosen it retracing the color band."
   How will I ever escape my fears if I am lost?
      I realize this question in my mind hadn't crossed,
   her answer echoes my hopes trapped in dim rooms,
      to extinguish agony I need to plunge into fumes.
   Holding colored love, labyrinths of threads I face,
      her ethereal touch in my scarf, my fingers trace,
   through whispering lullabies in stars I sprawl,
     led to an ocean of light beyond that fearful wall.

Summer Morning

grassy green carpet

adorning sprinkled dew beads--

welcomes mighty wind

~~~~~~

golden sequins drape

lilac buds in cuckoo's rhythms--

vibrant flowers bloom

*A traditional Japanese Haiku- It is a representation of poetry about nature with three lines using 5,7,5 syllables respectively. This is a collection of two haiku poems blended together in one theme.*

Starlit Maple

That lonely maple tree on the mighty green hill,

still hides my secret letters and beloved quill,

Oh the jubilant friend I'd found on a summer day,

it embraced me with lush branches on heaps of hay.

My hushed fears siphoned by soothing hums of breeze,

forlorn desires weaved into stories of azure seas,

it cocooned my dreams in wisps of green infant leaves,

that sprinkle dew drops when the little robin grieves.

Ambrosial baskets of delicious mangoes that I savor,

it shaded them until you embellished a rosy red flavor,

you slept in my arms as I heard a nervous cuckoo sing,

the maple branches swayed in glee, to love they cling.

Our fingers draped in icy whispers under magenta sky,

at twilight we shivered in the fervent wind to fly,

shooting stars adorned maple leaves on dark nights,

our recluse in golden sequins of blinking silver lights.

It still melts my summer stories on yellowed pages,

leaves marked with your name haven't faded since ages,

tonight I'll dance to rhapsodies of that fiery healing love,

peeping from crevices of leaves to your galaxies above.

Trance of Silence

Peaceful slumber engulfs my existence

my soul awakens in a tranquil silence

it floats away with waves leaving my body

a spirit astray guided by pristine breeze

that blankets my photons in a lit entropy

a silhouette I become in parallel universe

outlined by sublime molecules of supernova

I enter the black hole that leads me there

to the stagnant canopy of afar galaxies

a parched desert sleeps beneath my veil

I look for my displaced oasis of stars

I've been here in another incarnation

yet my memories hide in the dark

I touch a wall that collapses in void of

sand dunes basking in a silver impression

from a moon that never waxes or wanes

Oh! My universe at a standstill awaits

the answers I seek, the memories I keep

I listen to the silence of my soul

that reverberates a forgotten melody

A band of life shimmers from the white dwarf

sand dunes shiver beneath my shriveled feet

enchanted by a serene symphony I bridge dreams

ambrosial breeze orchestrates my tresses

meteor showers play violins in ecstasy

I watch it glide, a silhouette like me afloat

hesitant to reach my trembling shadow

the way it moves siphons away my fears

it brushes my halo with a known velvet touch

At last! You come in another universe

I've waited so long to pour my fantasies

we don't understand words nor do we need

I dip my fingers into your haloed silhouette

our shadows merge under luminescent showers

we move slowly and dance to the music

of sand dunes slipping into sandcastles

our silhouettes unite while we sleep afar

unaware of this union in a heavenly world

stars move in ripples on our drenched oasis

Then your shadow shivers and moves apart

is it time for this dream to end so soon?

The supernova strand engulfs me in a flash

Oh I wish to embrace you a little more

your silhouette nods to see me again

in another life from a yonder universe

I hear the acoustics as I enter my body

but your memories vanish in a cocoon of light

for me to find them again in another trance.

Velvet Caress

Sing to me with your light

my parched soul loves you

I'll uncurl my silky tresses

to let your fragrance brew

Let me weave from dreamy raindrops

a blanket that wraps stars

I'll take you behind cotton clouds

to a world that will be ours

Chorus:

      I carved your name from the golden sky

         and lit it on warm sand dunes

               I've waited so long to drench my soul 

                   in velvet caress of your tunes

          Your trembling lips melt frozen breath

              I am no longer inside me

                  You drip through my crevices in snow

                      I fuse in you, let me be

Two parallel waves tied by pearls dance

we kiss in tales of love

frivolous moments fuse to touch desires

pouring stardust from above

Let the moon get drunk with our melodies

musical sandcastles afloat

Embrace me as seashells spill chiming breeze

Let me blush, on me you dote

Chorus:

     I carved your name from the golden sky

        and lit it on warm sand dunes

           I've waited so long to drench my soul 

              in velvet caress of your tunes

          Your trembling lips melt frozen breath

             I am no longer inside me

                 You drip through my crevices in snow

                     I fuse in you, let me be

                     I am no longer inside me

                            I fuse in you, let me be

                   We fuse and sail, let us be..

*This is a lyric form poetry of song-like quality, originated in ancient Greek Literature. A Lyric is a type of poem in which the expression is much more personal and tends to show more feeling or emotion throughout the piece. It is often a more formal type of poetry when it is read and written as well, typically spoken in the first person (I/me). There are also many different meters that can be used to express a lyric, or even a combination of meters as well. Even further, many will recognize a lyric within songs and music.*

Midway Scarlet November Corridor

Lustrous laureled leaves in autumn silently reap,

Brown bland blisters of trampled grey soil in bay,

Glorious golden garden blankets my dreams in sleep.

Withered warm whispers in tired wet pastures seep,

Midway merging November winds to December neigh,

Lustrous laureled leaves in autumn silently reap.

Thousand tattered treasures revived in slumber deep,

Calm crispy corridor covers old secrets on the way,

Glorious golden garden blankets my dreams in sleep

Stealthy solemn sumptuous snow solaces them who weep,

Intense iridescent incarnations of life appear each day,

Lustrous laureled leaves in autumn silently reap.

Wonderful white wisps wake my desires, oh they leap,

Emerged effervescent existence reborn to fly away,

Glorious golden garden blankets my dreams in sleep.

Magnificent miraculous moments that I joyously keep,

Frosty ferocious frantic fears, fervent hopes sleigh,

Lustrous laureled leaves in autumn silently reap,

Glorious golden garden blankets my dreams in sleep.

*This poem has been written in Villanelle which is a French/Italian poetic form. The most famous example of Villanelle poetry is the poem 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night' written by the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas which was also featured in the movie Interstellar(2014). A Villanelle consists of nineteen lines with of five tercets (i.e., a three-line stanza) followed by one quatrain (a stanza with four lines). The first and third lines of the opening tercet are repeated in an alternating pattern as the final line of each next tercet; those two repeated lines then form the final two lines of the entire poem. The rhyme scheme calls for those repeating lines to rhyme, and for the second line of every tercet to rhyme. Thus, the rhyme scheme looks like this: ABA ABA ABA ABA ABA ABAA.* 

Longing

Charcoal dipped brush adorning sparkles on bristles of love

weaves unknown patterns on the canvas of blank memory

flashing waves blind his entranced visions of kisses in lights

blankets of amnesia wrap his existence but he paints in dark

hustling sounds on a vintage platform emerge from mists

breeze serenades in his lover's red shirt chasing scarlet sunsets

everyday he boards a crimson wagon longing for a goodbye

Thank You Stranger

That lonely old man still hopeful in his sixtieS

Helped those in need basking in a divine lighT

A blessed kind heart with gracious everlasting ardoR

Nourished the roots of his soul drenched in panaceA

Kernels of abundant gratitude bloomed in his heaveN

Yet he was touched by floating tides of tears glisteninG

On the day, a kid stopped stuttering with a smilE

Uttered his first continuous phrase, "Thank You StrangeR"

*This poem has been written using Acrostic poetry form, originated in Ancient Greek and Latin Literature. In an Acrostic poem, the first letter of each line spells out a word related to the theme of the poem. I have used a type of Double Acrostic form where the first letters of each line spell one word and the last letters of each line spell another word from the theme of this poem.*

Blooming Grave

pungent grey soil whispers love--perfumed blue magnolias bloom on grave

*This is a Japanese Monoku which is made up of a single horizontal line. It is similar to a Haiku in nature but unlike the Haiku which is made up of three lines with a total of seventeen syllables, a Monoku features a single line consisting of seventeen syllables or even fewer. It contains a pause brought about by speech rhythm with slight or no punctuation. The first letter should not be capitalized – but instead written in lower case.*

Freedom

Shriveled toes moving forth on muddled brown soil,

sending chills down the morose spine of brutalities.

Three hundred and fifty four days numbed in tyranny,

she crossed them in white on demeaned prison walls.

On twelfth of May, paced 20 yards in 20 guarded strides,

she now gleams her tattered uniform in jubilant pride.

Time to fly back to her nest like a migratory bird,

her chained hands released from blood red scuffles.

Chapped lips spill her bravery in rubies of free verse,

her solitude of raging strength somersaults as music,

her feet cleanse carpets of buried ashes in emerald blue.

Behold! A warrior glides over asleep pastures of onyx,

golden hues awaken rustling leaves in pearly drizzles,

lilac sunrise embraces her freedom veiled in sepia light,

rising spirits back in homeland, roars the prisoner of war. 

Exuberant Colors

The master of mischief shatters her darling windowpane,
grey-haired ninja lady twists her bulletproof cane.
Oh poor antique walls displeased at this routine,
they groan and wither at what this battle has been.

Granny in her sixties against the kid aged 5 to catch,
the monkey business in this house with none to match.
Broken cups, torn pillows-- souvenirs from February,
they race around this mansion like Tom and Jerry.

The war worsens for TV remote on tranquil summer nights,
none of them ready to surrender to switched off lights.
So one day I gifted them a canvas and new colors to paint,
their eyes lightened up at separate sets for no complaint.

Granny's lonely memories bring symphonies of showers,
she remembers how much she loved painting flowers.
They smile, excited to learn floating in pink and blue,
together, painting masterpieces in a dazzling lilac hue.

Like tendrils of grapes and melons in my garden they grow,
strokes in unison splashed with colors on a single canvas flow.
It wasn't so difficult to direct their exuberance so bright,
I sigh playing with my TV remote-- Tom and Jerry at last, unite.

Masquerade

    Carefree, you walk into my reluctant orchard in a crowded room
         listening to facades of my silence drunk on vigilant observations;
    Oh stranger! You converse through stolen glances and smiles
        reading infinite versions of converging fears from folded pages, 
     tracing footprints from previous incarnations you see through,
        my locked doors in dust of charades shiver and melt for you;
    Ah! your key, a game lost to dandelions dancing on octaves of love.

July Swing

My naive heartbeats echo an old song,

Last summer was a blissful page of glee,

The July swing has waited for so long,

I smile, for a joyous trip waits for me.

Last summer was a blissful page of glee,

I flew with the wind, the velvet caress,

I smile, for a joyous trip waits for me,

Oh! Wisps of violet adorned my dress.

I flew with the wind, the velvet caress,

Breezy aroma on my pink cheek, kissed,

Oh! Wisps of violet adorned my dress,

Flowers dancing to melody of mist.

Breezy aroma on my pink cheek, kissed,

The July swing has waited for so long,

Flowers dancing to melody of mist,

My naive heartbeats echo an old song.

This poem has been written using the pantoum rhyme scheme which is composed of a series of quatrains. Here the second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next stanza. The pattern continues for any number of stanzas, except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the second last stanza; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final. Ideally, the meaning of lines shifts when they are repeated although the words remain exactly the same: this can be done by shifting punctuation. Also, sometimes the number of syllables used in each line is maintained. I have used 10 syllables per line in this one.

Crushed

Awake on a numb dark night he wonders--

tired cells of his existence blazing

on fiery topanga in crushed slumber.

Anxious, chained, gasping at barriers

of individuality or a species that contain

appeasements in layered singularities

or contradictions in linear multitudes.

He drags himself to a paraphernalia,

his search for conquests shivers 

in tangled cobwebs his fingers dance

to grand designs of his fantasies.

Oh! how he habitually gets drenched

in warm showers of colliding galaxies,

exploding curses of humanity in hammock,

Aesop's fables plagued in sloth.

His trembling raptures of oceans azure

send chills down the spine of raging coal.

Elevators of his dark realities push him

to take a fall as the Lady of Shalott

atop old cliff of his clueless journeys,

burning humanity, wars, paranoia but wait--

blurred visions of forgotten land arise, 

painted from a million oscillations in cosmos,

unwritten pages of blood red stories

crushed and absorbed in soils of time,

simmered to vapors of hopes on his mind--

his fingers dance to tunes of a faint voice,

a dead soul sings amid a snowstorm, 

'Oh come crushed souls, let's sleep tonight,

tomorrow you'll squeeze some lost hope in light'.

Echoes Of Guiding Light

Dark tunnels behind creeping tendrils of haunting fears,

interlaced with struggling hopes in drowning tears;

a whisper of faith flickers intermittently in my heart,

I follow echoes in dark alley tracing moist steps apart.

The light engulfing walls of the tunnel gleams my inner sword

I battle with courage to conquer storms on my lifeboat aboard;

Oh Almighty! To your bounteous halo I swim drenched in glee,

I believe in unwavering rays of hope from your divine tree.

Stardust In Sandcastles

Hypnotized by the symphony of your entrancing slumber,

I dip my shriveled fingers into your haloed silhouette;

Oh they bloom in luminescent boundless ocean of our love,

then wave undulating stars to adorn moist sandcastles

floating with humming wind to their sleepless souls afar--

drizzling as snowflakes to replenish each parched oasis

Abandoned Hands

I watched a prompting feature by a dynamic actor,

his life seemed vivacious with an ardent factor;

today I heard he'd hanged himself to a lonely death,

deserted fears overpowered zeal in his last breath.

I read an exuberant story by a young wizard of words,

he weaved a mystical world of magical unbound birds;

today I read he'd poisoned himself confined to bed,

forsaken wounds hidden in his entranced utopia bled.

I lulled to sleep listening to a soothing old song,

the vocalist hummed a hopeful melody of spirits strong;

today I found he'd killed himself in a car crash,

derelict ruins of his past made his symphony backlash.

I wondered why remarkable people succumb to pain,

until I witnessed an old neighbour cry amid rain;

he has always been bounteous to those he greets,

with bubbling rhapsodies of witty puns he treats.

I remembered the times I've been haunted and glum,

reverberating void eclipsed flickers of hope so numb;

in times like those my stranded ship found a shore,

when I spread my struggling courage to a meek roar.

While lost souls bask in shimmers of uplifting drops in rays,

their tangled cobwebs in dark alleys lit by smiles in haze;

I wish we hold marooned hands to keep walking ahead, 

my unnoticed neighbour gleams with healing tears shed.

*Poet's Note: A promising artist hanged himself to death today which led me to ponder upon something I have felt. I've always witnessed great uplifting souls(even commoners) to bid goodbye to this world when the last drop of their courage evaporated. Most of the people mask their pain behind their courageous, upfront, cheerful selves publicly. The world needs more love, hope and blessings to let people notice and understand each other because every single human being experiences depression at some point in life. It is none but we who can be the guiding light to each other. This year has been a test of faith already. Let's help ourselves and others to heal the souls.*

Ancient Benign Lighthouse

O hear I chant clinging to a sullen northern shore

Tempestuous serene rocky beach that you so adore

Sultry soliloquy sturdy stifled structure sings

A witness of forgotten sailors and majestic kings

Them, I blessed with gracious shelter in storms

For I unmanned, rejoiced in accompanying norms

Dreaming of worlds afar with anchored symphony

Of parting tears that await a returning euphony

O watch my ancient red-bricked watchtower in sky

Where the cherry-eyed albatross prepares to fly

Whispering of solitary voyages on vessels adrift

Guiding them with entailing waters, cold and swift

Them, I engulf in mystic hues of radiant green light

Their shivering agony embraced by divine joy so bright

Dancing to tunes of prodigious waves as they kissed

My feet reuniting from the ocean bed of forlorn mist

O taste the pungent waves that carry eternal seasons

timeless frequencies sprinkled on heavenly reasons

essence of leaves rolled in snow and streams they fuse

Beads reborn of universe in a cradled hammock cruise

Them, I absorb with their enchanting viscous tides

They melt with innocent bliss my truculent slides

That flourishes my solitary light to let me sense

Melodies of blushing mornings with visitors hence

O touch my walls, they have been barren for so long

Once adorned with pearls, now abandoned lifelong

Them I drench with tears of loneliness in grief

Wiped by a music of gentle footsteps oh so brief

I await the echoing hums of a delicate little girl

Her fingers orchestrated the howling wind with a twirl

I'll be the serene light that guides despondent ships

A proud beacon of benign hope dissolving dark eclipse

Fireworks

           Onyx of darkness crumbled beneath my bed,
               I lit a bead in fiery scarlet hues on a novel white canvas
          A fire enraged in the hollows of anxieties

          Oh my precious canvas burnt in raging flames
            The bead from the canvas somersaulted in my room
          Hallucinations of muddled cobwebs entangled me

           It whirled and swooshed my fears in numbness
               My drooping desires curled into creeping snails,
           It flashed visions from black to topaz blue

           Ruby for a while then emerald oh then amethyst
                Lit the world with fireworks of hope in the moonlit sky
         The reasons to die, the desires to live, dancing chaos

            Ashes of my canvas scattered around in the morning,
My brush dipped in blood red fears-- yellow sapphire gleaming in my palm

Red Doors

Words hurled in anguish

pierce translucent hearts apart;

rivulets of pain

await that healing love -- scared 

behind reluctant red doors

*This poem has been written using the Japanese Tanka poetry form. It is a short poem similar to a Haiku(except that a Haiku expresses themes of nature) expressing personal themes of self-reflection. It is usually divided into 5 lines with 5,7,5,7,7 syllables respectively. The first three lines are the upper phrase, and the last two lines are the lower phrase. The upper phrase typically contains an image, and the lower phrase exposes the poet's ideas about that image.*

Simulacrum

Scintillating hues disperse on blank canvas,
       electric essence sparks azure palate mauve;
           incandescent lightning leads to the ballroom--
                           of galactic blaze.

   Vivacious seagulls draped in white fly afar,
        sing to forlorn sandcastles on tranquil shore;
            breathtaking notes vibrate subdued strings of breeze--
                     pearly mist of harps.

      Inhaling sultry waves of hot topanga,
         I flicker with burning golden lantern wick;
            awaiting tides adorned with velvet mirage--
                     your silk memories.

    Moonbeams rejuvenate my drowning desires,
        I write your name on sand to be washed away;
           your halo descends to embrace me with love--
                    on my yearning pier.


*Simulacrum is a Latin word which in English translates to an image or representation that replaces reality of something.

**This poem has been written using the Sapphic Stanza poetry form originated in ancient Greek literature, deriving its name from the Greek poet Sappho. It uses Aeolic verse of four lines. Originally Sappho used three lines with specific stressed and unstressed syllables. However, later a fourth line was added known as the Adonean line. A sapphic stanza in modern literature is composed of four lines- the first three with eleven syllables each and the last one is made up of five syllables.

Breeding Box Valley

             
                          t
                           e
                          n
                           d
                          r
                           i
                         l
                         s
      Creeping on my windowpane
        peek into my heart, them I refuse
          Awake, I fear their unknown recluse
           They wind my shivering fears in threads
            and let them curl till they squeeze to last bead
             haloed drops disperse from my window
          my anxieties engulfed afloat like paper boats
        spiral dreams bubble from the breeding-box valley
      my room lit with their playful exuberance
    Ah! One tendril I catch at last         y
  It lends me a hand to ascend         l
 we swivel from bedside and       f
Afar, bursting light brewing hope
across the county line
Rhapsody of enchanting mid nights
 that old gatekeeper that sings
  white patches melt in golden hues
    dreams tiptoe through mauve skies
     treasures of crimson opera I unlock
       memories blush revealing dim chandeliers
           they become more mine than I am
            then lull me to sleep as I release
            the effervescence dancing to beats
           in the ballroom of my subconscious mind
          like reclined paper planes in azure clouds
       that spiral love on their paper boats
     as snowflakes in the city that never sleeps

A Land I Dream About

 A floating melody of soothing hums,
  when sea breeze to tranquil shores comes,
   sprinkling buried golden hues,
    over swaying grassland in recluse.

       Lulling little kids to breathe free -
    in spiral dreams, come sing of that land to me.

 An exquisite painting of ancient mysteries,
   of the hill forts from buried cities
     that once bubbled exuberance in glee
      now boast of a beauty carefree.

 When daisies bloom in lilac spring,
  asleep under soothing blankets sing,
   oft shimmering crystals on canvas-
    on starry nights, come paint that land for me.

  An unwritten muse to be poured in ink
   from the red brick window turning pink,
    preserved in the breeding-box valley,
     shimmering dew on golden hay in old alley.

 Rising aroma of cuisines from wet chimneys,
  hustling wind rushing through wagon dinghies,
   chasing me to the castle in hilltop fields -
    in long lost pastures, write of that land to me.

 A rejuvenating dream that quenches my thirst
  to explore unseen soaring bubbles burst,
   taking me through white patches of dusk,
    in blue skies drenching me with musk.

 The mornings welcomed by chirping bird,
  lamb white days riding with their herd,
   mauve twilight sparkling rising moon,
     beholding me from afar as I swoon.

          Beyond continents and vast seas free -
       loving people, come dream of that land with me.

Oasis Of Stars

 Masked behind enraging cacophony
    sand dunes bathed in paranoia of fears
     nascent pearls of silver light 
        bubble through exuberant oasis
         Flickering candles give me a sign
        Divine symphony floats in night air
         Whispering mystic melodies of hope
          Reveal my soul with unwavering faith

 Oh so pious my lilac wishes, unfiltered, 
drip through crevices of my heart,
then freeze under lost deserts
 Until the lavender song of love melts them
  they shine and fuse in the universe again
   in rising wisps of aromatic breeze

     Wrapped in an enchanting rhapsody
           Honeyed drizzles echo my song of peace
        my whispers float on the oceans of clouds 
               drenching the world in dreamy shooting stars

Monsoon Showers

Grey clouds thunder tearing the sky,

chirpy birds back to their nests fly.

Lucid drops of divine wonder,

tearing the sky, grey clouds thunder.

Merry buds, sparkling veil cuddles,

my pup splashes love in puddles.

Violet hues in streaming floods,

sparkling veil cuddles merry buds.

Pink tulips dancing to quick beats,

dripping mellow bathes tranquil streets.

Parched lilies moisten their blue lips,

dancing to quick beats, pink tulips.

Drenched carefree I am monsoon kissed,

dreamy muse floats in rejoiced mist.

Scented wisps lend their hand to me,

I am monsoon kissed, drenched carefree.

This poem has been written using the swap quatrain form which was created by Lorraine M. Kanter. It consists of rhyming stanzas of four lines each. In this form the first line is reversed or swapped in the fourth line by rearranging the words in the first line of each stanza to make another sentence in the fourth line. Lines 1 and 2 rhyme with each other while lines 3 and 4 form a rhyming pair. The rhyme pattern is: aabb, ccdd, eeff, gghh. The rhythm that this form produces is musical.

The Garden That Lives On

             
             The
        old house
   from my memories
 opens to a wide porch
adorned by mom with her
loving touch.Herbs,flowers
swayed to caressing breeze
 Lilies in pink, roses in blue
  and bougainvilleas that
   blushed in lilac hues.
     Green tulsi shrubs
      tended with care.
       Ah! leaves that
           flavored
           our tea.
            They
            were
            laced
             by a
             fence
              with                             a
              sweet                     aroma
               from                   tendrils
              curling              bluebells
              intertwined      in mesh
              The fragrant   jasmine,
               she sang to them
                and put one in
                 her wavy hair
Spring bloomed them to full moon. Monsoons brought a divine petrichor
that made us breathe the heavenly aroma of her love. She taught me
to care for them under the Mahogany tree that enveloped them from
raging heat. She worshipped her nursery like her own kids. Every
evening, dad used to share his stories watching the rosy blush.
On moonlit nights, we stargazed lying on the grassy bed and
listened to old songs on radio. I had built a corner of three
bricks to keep my favorite books to bloom and read them
on lazy noon with cuckoo's songs breathing intermingled
scents. When we left that house, the garden lived for
someone else. My mom had wished they would care
for it like she did. I packed my old books to move on.
Now years later, far from mom, when I miss my garden
of bliss, I unpack those books that still release scents of
roses and jasmine drenched and dancing releasing soothing
petrichor. For a love so deep shall bless me now in my kitchen
garden, confined to few flowers. That love still blooms with those
books as I inhale the fragrance of those foregone days. Like I carry
my mother's essence in everything I am, the divine garden of that heaven
from my memories and the eternal fragrance of mother gleaming, lives on.

~To the garden where I wrote my first poem


This poem has been written using the Shape poetry form which usually indicates the theme of the poem through a shape describing it.

Grows The Night

Grows the night as moonlit waves swivel

to unravel submerged mysteries,

dark fears uncurl into sapphire hopes,

lustrous divine chandelier on pier.

Grows the night to unveil moist layer

of echoed enchanting fog of faith,

flaming muse scintillates pearls of love,

with musk-soaked lullabies grows the night.

This poem consists of 8 non-rhyming lines with 9 syllables in each line. The phrase at the beginning of the first line also begins the fifth line and ends the last line. 

The Weaver's Song

Oh celestial beings glittering in halo divine

You've floated in universe on eternal timeline

Years and ages so miniature for you to count

A lover's measure of eternity now I recount

The symphony dissolves curling magic in the air

No grand charades, just a forlorn weaver's prayer

He sings for his love, a foregone red-necked bird

Though demented with age, memories never blurred

His quivering voice over the valley sprinkles dew

Fingers weaving yarn orchestrate fir trees in blue

Blazing dusk in golden sequins drape bare numb feet

Flames of his faith warm his drenched tattered seat

Smooth velvet symphony of soothing union in spring

Hums in shivering breeze, white layers forbid to sing

Entwined in azure embrace time comes to a standstill

Apart, his heart dragged through unending days of chill

Unbeknownst of numbers, age he weaves forever in recluse

His melodious love drips through crevices of his muse

Adorns pearly fir in Autumn with woven Cashmere shawl 

When Autumn ends, he unknits it again to a huge ball

His incessant penance in separation enchants the twirling light 

Mountains drape themselves in love of gossamer veil so bright

Together time halts, his love is five feet of yarn he weaves

Apart time floats, his love grows four seasons old he believes