The curtain raised on azure and iris,
buttered chromas merge with one another;
Each hue aches with fever so ferocious.
Categories:
chromas, blue, emotions, passion,
Form: Tercet
The paths of my mission would be rows of roses, I thought.
To my shock, in tipsy turvy twists and turns, I got tossed
Didn't I desire to know the known to know the unknown?
Each wish of mine, like worn-out shoes of a nomad, got torn.
The moon of joy in my gains should have been at the zenith.
Struggles, like palms, tall-grow. Bliss, like dried grass, peeps from beneath.
Like iron-rods in saline waters getting eroded
The weakness of my will, like pumpkin buds, is unfolded.
Virtues, as fallen scaffoldings, are disintegrated.
Absurdity, like the blood red moon, is reiterated.
My vigour, before my puniness, like a dewdrop, fades.
Apprehension and anxiety, like gems, I adorn.
Pessimism lifts its head like boom-slang cobras from burrows.
Coffins and graves compose knells. The deceased have no repose.
Death and decay have become the blessed norm of the day.
Despair and disappointment, like thorns, pierce through every way.
Self-confidence is erased like mud paths during monsoons.
Will the Times, like the rainbow chromas, bring multihued boons?
Categories:
chromas, angst, life, sad,
Form: Rhyme
Vortice violet.
A shoddy glow of dull light on shadow.
Shine might on ebon canvas.
Dark strikes with heaven's lancet.
Ray by ray day by day grotto,
With thoughts brooded in effluvium.
Contemplating why darkness has been made synonymous with evil.
Yet it's nocturne shrouds and lays safe passage for those oppressed by the light of our current day.
Granting slumber before reawakening; in the glare of expanding and unknown chromas.
Categories:
chromas, analogy, color, dark, day,
Form: Free verse