Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.119.172.58
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem


"We can't ever fathom, 
     when the ceasing flicker of hope 
                         flutters away, 
                    and 
          escapes to an 
                  endless forest;
    the only charm in this 
               spellbound life is, 
             to chase that 
                       scarred saffron second  
                   and hue it with our own 
                                   enchanting light..."


As the fiddling 
crescent basks 
in this reborn moonrise, 
I slowly blanket 
my soul with 
shivering sighs 
of frozen stars, 
as they trickle 
down my lungs
and echo a 
scentless spring, 
where oceans 
yearn to feel 
the kiss of 
floral zephyrs, 
tickling their 
turquoise sirens. 

Perhaps, 
I was once a
lifeless snowdrop, 
a stygian silhouette 
of midnight which
wrapped those
neon skies,
as black ice 
melted in cores, 
when pain became
my melancholic
soulmate and no 
philosopher's stone 
could turn this
solemn melody, 
into sapphire ruins 
of remedy. 

Since my spirit
has hibernated 
in this crystal castle -
I've been waltzing 
in a wondering, 
did my eyes 
loose their dazzle 
and become mere 
colourless dots 
of an oil pastel 
portrait, as 
this quill turned
vengeful for
its own spirit? 
Did I break 
my own heart, 
by watering the
macabre of miracles? 

Fading in 
marigold mangroves
that whisper to 
my delicate muse, 
I feel the breaths
of mirthful wingbeats, 
ricocheting and
making me swoon
over a pedestal of 
pure sunrays. 
Have I always 
been this alive,
where these pulses,
reverberating
in my chestnut skin, 
could wake me up 
from the crestfallen 
slumber? 

Now, as these
topaz horizons 
unfold their 
golden carpet, 
embroidered with
velvet peonies
and silk carnations, 
I slowly bloom, 
with a princess-cloak 
of fluffy feathered 
petals, resting 
upon the crown of
emerald leaves, 
bathed in chic
chocolaty lakes, as, 
~ an empyrean lotus. 

So, reminisce me 
evermore, as an 
imperfect lyric
of a dusky 
peach pixie, 
leaving footprints 
of faith in a 
muddy reverie,
for, on the 
bluebell crest 
of lush earth, 
reigns this 
rosy Cleopatra, 
rhyming with 
jeweled perfumes
of tomorrow.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required