After The Spell (Line Count And Syllable Verse Form)
I focus on the image
of a stunning woman’s pose
against a hue-tinged skyline
canvas so mesmerising
in its otherworldly scope
that dream mirror brochure lure
dashed by thunderstorms and rain
NEVER IS ALMOST LONG ENOUGH
NEVER IS ALMOST LONG ENOUGH
From that initial remark until all forgiveness is done
With all possible interpretations of it under the sun
And there’s never any victory that either side won
Just a bitter taste that will not ever subside or fade
Stone slabs, from which a wall has now been made
And a mountain of rubble, that’s irretrievable stuff
For some it’s a moment, but for others it is forever
And it is about handling emotions, not being clever
As there is always that one last connection to sever
There is not even a heated exchange one may miss
Where the Olive Tree Waits
In the rubble of a nameless street,
a girl ties her hair with wire
and counts the syllables
of silence between missiles.
She remembers a house —
not the shape of its walls,
but the smell of her mother’s bread,
and the way shadows leaned gently
at sunset.
Each night, her father recites
verses the world forgot,
as if prayer could rebuild
a roof.
A boy plants a paper flag
in the sand,
not to claim the land,
but to say:
I was here.
Major In Plus (Monoku Form)
Keep expecting great things and by and large great things show up in your life
After Mental Flight (Line Count And Syllable Poem)
Pink clouds with feint zigzag veins
craft a stunning desert maid’s
muse in mirror swivel guise
as she pondered in set pose
how welkin palettes loiter
when a tense eerie inkling
sighs “I’m this windblown notion
Rather than talking to walls –
Rather than talking to walls -
I talk to the universe
Which talks back.
The Milky Way hails -
The stars wink endlessly -
The planets - they enchant -
And if my ears are sharp -
I might hear steadfastly
The drum of time
In sync with my heart -
The crickets and the owls
As one rhyme.
ordinary/extraordinary
today, I choose to see the world as you do.
to revel in the ordinary-
the wind in the trees and the sun on my face,
the immeasurable, indescribable miracle that is simply being alive
I choose to find joy instead of stumbling into fear.
I choose to forget comparison, to find contentment instead.
today, I choose to see myself as you do.
to revel in the extraordinary.
to revel in the ordinary-
the wind in the trees and the sun on my face,
the immeasurable, indescribable miracle that is simply being alive
I choose to find joy instead of stumbling into fear.
I choose to forget comparison, to find contentment instead.
today, I choose to see myself as you do.
to revel in the extraordinary.
Watch This Sighting (Haiku Poem)
Backdrop dangling its
allotted allure relish
the delightful spots
Mid Point Summer (Sijo Japanese Form)
Fountain sprinkles douse raucous children, in sizzling summer townscape,
steam billows from mosaic pavement, slabs on foot of sweat induced clouds,
yet mid season picturesque gust, whirl hues an august autumn nod
We Watch It Sink Again (Requiem for Wreckage)
The ocean does not forget.
It hoards the hush of screams unmet,
its blue mouth stitched with secrets kept.
A choir of ghosts who never slept.
Even now, it exhales telegram wires,
teacups with trembling porcelain fires,
hair combs tangled with ghostlight curls,
wedding bands sealed in salt and pearls.
Grief dressed in barnacles and brine,
etched in rust like a sacred sign.
I read the headline yesterday:
A final mission underway.
To fetch what time has tried to steal,
what salt corrodes but won’t conceal.
Relics slipping toward disintegration,
adrift like prayers without salvation.
A scavenger’