At the edge of summer the rainy squalls disappear,
north winds flow gently under the sapphire sky clear.
The drooping leaves of the thicket trees wake up to its call,
don the auburn drape before they wither for the final fall.
The ivory brush of clouds washes the end-summer sky,
the birds bathe in the blue as from amber nest they fly.
Lining the cinnabar garden path the tawny trees stand tall,
in the rustle of the golden leaves they hear the fall’s footfall.
The dulcet dawn creates crystal crown with pearls of dew
for the bent blades of grass wrapped by tinge of russet hue.
From the horizon beyond the blue hills cotton clouds fly
like the fleet of sailing ship in the azure of the serene sky.
As the saffron sun sinks in the splendor of twilight hours,
the canvas of chromatic fall is painted with blazing colors.
The shimmer of the sunset sequins swathes my meadow,
I feel the gilded touch of the aureate autumn’s afterglow.
My silent senses whisper like the breath of autumn air,
articulate gratitude for the divine gift of rapture so rare.
The cinnabar disc of cold fire afar slowly ascends,
sets the sunk edge of the sunburst horizon ablaze.
As all the cosmic colors the chromatic satin sky blends,
diamond dewdrops on malachite meadow glint in haze.
The crisp beguiling breeze flutters the emerald canopy,
cleaves channels thru’ the foliage filigree for sunbeam,
splashing gold sequins on leaves rustling on jade tree,
fringing the fawn vale effulgent in the sunshine gleam.
The day’s crystal face in sapphire emptiness shines bright,
the seamless cobalt canvas of dawn sky changes color.
Before the radiance of the day is consumed by twilight
I absorb the dregs of the setting sun's sinking splendor.
At the fragile fringe of the fleeting forlorn moment,
spellbound by sunIight of the splendiferous dulcet dawn,
I perceive the new glow of the divine light resplendent
with the rays of hope radiating from the hued horizon.
At the tip of the reclined jade bough,
ornate with fine filigree of emerald foliage,
a floral lattice in the love-laced sapling
blossomed as a flower with a fervent flair.
On the weary wings of the arctic wind
the wilted petals of my florid longing
blew away in the winter of discontent
to the cold cauldron of nowhere.
As my yearning turned into glacial vacuity
in the freezing darkness of the arctic pathway,
I walked forsaken over the frozen flower
along the gelid trail of frigid memory.
I felt the poignant crunch of the flower,
for, then every step was an articulation
of my fragile brittle feeling congealed.
Yet, even if the bruised beauty
got treaded upon the fallen blossom
in the snowstorm raged meadow
I painted its shape-shifted insignia
on the cinnabar canvas of togetherness lost.
In the twilight zone it would glisten
with the patina of residual florid rapture
within our opalescent inner sanctum,
the garden of our real home still verdant,
where the frozen blossom would bloom again.
SUNSET SWANSONG
melody
of
twilight
in
cinnabar
strings
of
horizon
violin
cosmic
resounding
requiem
of
daytime
demolished
with
desire
fresco
fading
in
mind
mystique
canvas
crumbles
shards
of
pathos
compose
lyric
last
of
memory
derelict
in
sonata
of
spectral
swansong
resonating…
Tinged by cinnabar the spent sun sets
at the gray edge of the gloomy horizon.
As all the shadows of the extant lengthen,
the diffused light of the day they cannot sap.
Dusky dimness descends opaque and heavy,
floods the blurred spine of the pining plateau,
captures the lively tinge of the emerald trees,
until the shadows fade into obscure gloom.
Luminosity of the remnant reminiscence
glimmers in the deserted mental foyer.
Remnant rays of the drifting crescent moon,
illumine the obscure corridor of memory.
Clutching its silhouette the mystified life drifts
through the diffused array of the moonbeam,
knowing the stars shine bright in the dark sky,
the candles burn bright in the gloomy room.
At the end of summer as the warm waves disappear,
lining the sun-splashed cinnabar ground gleaming bright
the dry trunks of sepia trees stand on the sienna soil.
Soft northern breeze serenades under the sapphire sky,
the leaves of trees on the fawn field wake up to the tune,
don the golden attire before they all wither and fall.
At the lucent edge of the sunburst sky the halcyon horizon
splits the surreal sunbeams in the spectrum of radiant rays,
the sparkle of hues spill from the palette of colors on the field.
As the bowed slender blades of beige grass sway in the morn
in the crisp air on the lap of meadow turning grey from green,
the pasture wears the crafted crown of shining topaz dew.
The meadow sparkles with the flair of dawn’s chalcedony glow,
I am immersed in autumn’s rhapsodic radiance with delight.
cinnabar
setting sun
like a vermilion ball
bids goodnight
to the earth
the sad wind
welcomes
mystical moon
who rules
in place of the sun
dusk drops early
light dwindling into night
God's painting
done for the day
It was hitomebore —
florette splintering my heart
until it pulverized
victorious eyes
burning into mine, poppyseeds
bursting into coquelicot corolla
Je ne change point
I fell through the somnolent
stone dais with cinnabar charms,
faithful but blind,
my fears mounting but muted
victims of mise en abyme
as I transition to hedone’s unknown
Je ne change point
Rebels hang off
haught Victorian lips,
their ineffable limerence shimmers
in Andromeda's chocolate cosmos,
promising one day they’ll be found
The cascading contours of the verdant mountain slope
hold me, an upstanding cone of coniferous jade spruce
with waxy leaves that I turn into needles on the boughs.
When young I stand erect in the shade of the taller trees,
but soon I go up fast to outgrow them under the sun.
Cinnabar glaze I get from the crimson gleam of twilight,
my senses shiver in the winter chill freezing the needles.
The sparkle of joy shines on me in the cheerful night,
when I go for the festival of merriment to a happy home
as a Christmas tree decorated with the sapphire stars.
Cotton clouds brush the end-summer sky,
the meadow below wears crown of topaz dew.
Lining the cinnabar garden path the sepia trees
listen to the autumn’s footfall, striding slow.
Draped by the silver moondust in pellucid night
I instill the essence of September rhapsody.
Plump black velvet plush
fluttering flip book of flight
reveals concealed blush
Contest : Seasons Now And After
Sponsored by : Nette Onclaud
Date : August 10, 2025
Trails of rain fade at the fringe of summer,
supple northern breeze whispers on its way.
Strands of silver clouds slowly sail away,
graze the ash of end-summer’s smoky sky.
Sunburst horizon spreads gossamer drape,
tepid spectrum emits from slant sunrays.
Birds bathe in their shadows in fawn meadow,
autumn is near, they twitter, looking far.
Satin grass will wear crown of topaz dew,
flicker with the flair of dawn’s crystal glow.
In cinnabar lawn tawny trees listen
in the crunch of bronze leaves autumn’s footfall.
cinnabar and cinnamon
strawberries and cherries
apricots and luscious mango
windchimes and crystals
hummingbirds and butterflies
sailboats and sunsets
summer nights and nuptials
AP: 3rd place 2025
Half past Summer, two months till Fall
A Monet image, relishing!
Brisk sienna steppingstones sprawl
Half past Summer, two months till Fall
Whiffs of earthy cinnabar loll
Gold aspens strewn embellishing
Half past Summer, two months till Fall
A Monet image, relishing!
Indian Paintbrush
Cinnabar to rum.
Bluish to a pink rose.
Curious toward a new path.
Waltz through painted daffodils.
Crystalline ruby sky.
Scarlet blood red devine.
Indian Paintbrush.
Open fields, red sun.
Thine crimson deep.
Fall asleep, can’t speak.
Mesmerized by reverence.
Rows of labyrinth.
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