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.
CURIOSITIES BECOME REALITY-:-
rationally
verified
patternd
unconnected
specialisation
of EMOTIONAL AWARENESS
subconsciously
residing
turbulence
chaotically
liberated
provoking DEEPER INSIGHTS
embracing
implicit
swathes
defining
art
The tapestry of the indigo sky,
weaved with lattice of silver cloud,
merges with the still sea in the blues.
The dislodged boulders of cognitive debris
strewn away from the waterfront of desire,
the broken dreams epitomized.
The anchorless empty boat
drifts away from the shore of longing,
harboured by desolation,
lodged lonesome in the sanctuary
of the rocky ledge of fortitude.
In the ruins of my splintered heart,
I listen to the voice of the anguished soul,
the mutilated construct of recluse precinct,
encasing the stifling loneliness of poignant prison
where the psyche languishes relentless
within invincible travail,
negating the hope perspective
in the clutch of mental affliction.
The cauldron of dissonance,
remote from the rhythm of life,
its void filled with drops of depression in adagio.
My dormant desires are demolished,
the malleable mind yields to nostalgic purport,
melancholy swathes the remnant yearning.
Inspired by Melancholy, Edvard Munch.
Delectable daze
aligned aesthetic
shimmered swoon
of
bespoke ripples
svelte meander
induced isthmus
vapour vaulting
veracity stoic
conscious cognizant
bard assimilating
aureate archways
seismic
rendered relish
goading effervescent
literary lullaby
interwoven
opportune foramen
tinctured chasm
or otherworld
fractured frisson
bejewelled
template tempter
sonic madrigal
enticing
creative lunge
toward tiered
vanilla visuals
for
ethereal lyric
deft minstrel
of
fermented finesse.
lithe moulder
authorised pen
swimming
enigmatic estuaries
whilst
dance retinue
sunshine swathes
pivotal pirouette
spawning
erudite enjambment
satin weave
gossamer lens
whose
amaranthine fixed
focus eschews
bland doggerel
instead
chatoyant cynosure
replenished quill
lacquers
indigo imbued
bunting’s warble
inducing
hypnotic portrait
surreal verse
delirious
weave web
unravelled
dream denouement
of
epic entablatures
mid song ~
yet almost lost to longing
methods of the mundane
soothe no more
distance holds my gaze
in ways that purge time
but not infatuation
the intricacy of binding spells compels
steals me back
to last gasps
of ecstasy
shimmers of tears clash
with murmurs still embedded in stone
lapping waters draw me under
until it is I that is too weak of will
within your embrace
I should expire
entranced completely by desire
no lapsing thoughts
nor dread in swathes
a mystery scaled
in a myriad of ways
woken up and ushered in
retrieved from perpetuality of sin
by moving earth
and crashing wave
transfixed eternal
by all the ways you save
A stranger’s laughter echoes from the rooftop above,
and in it I find God.
Purely imperfect and bursting with joy.
He is there, filling the spaces between decibels.
Lake Mohawk glitters white and gold
as the setting sun uses its surface as a mirror.
Their relationship is symbiotic -
the lake is gifted with a glowing warmth
while the sun takes in with pride the fire with which it paints the sky.
In this I find God.
He is the kindness in this partnership
and the afterthoughts of joy and beauty it scatters throughout the world.
There is peace in this moment,
the bliss of beloved conversation and the freedom from expectation.
The light is no longer upon my shoulders,
but its touch lingers,
a subdued contentment filling every corner of my mind
and illuminating the expanse of time which lays before me.
It is here, too, that I find God;
Him, the grantee of possibilities;
Him, the shepherd of the shadow-sighted;
Him, a rock on which I can lay my worried head.
He swathes me in His grace and whispers
“I am here without exception. Immovable. Unconquerable.
My love knows no bounds.
That is why you find me.”
Written: July 29, 2025 for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "You Are not a drop in the ocean, you are the entire ocean in a drop." by Rumi
*************
the jungle breathes as a vast pulsating lung
thunder rumbles from its heart while mist swathes
as if the ground were a relic of lost commas
it waives itself with reptiles slinking through the scrub
leaves merge in a symphony of vibrant voices
while ferns unfurl as mirage slices through the sky
akin to cherished recollections rooted
birds come together in the canopy
creating a ladder of fluttering honor
feathers show rite and respond to the rain
no map can steer this place, no compass offers balm
the vines spin a web crafted by nature's bold hand
lush foliage fosters a furrowed field
with a flowing growth and decay
seagulls alone notice ancient occult beauty
moss cloaks a worn stone as wrinkles on a giant
the jungle swallows you not from hunger
but from necessity
this tale ties you to its timeless storyline
not as a hero but as an echo
“Those we love don’t go away,
they walk beside us everyday”,
become our lasting second shadow,
always close to us, we all know.
They fly in our secluded skies,
on silver-lined clouds their love lies,
spreads sunburst spectrum of longing,
swathes our souls with sense of belonging.
They remain in the core of our heart,
no storm of strife can ever set us apart.
We’re with them in journey tough or easy,
till the end of our time with us they’ll be.
The grass waved hello
the birds called back.
Telegraph poles stood still
like tall slender trees.
the birds liked that.
the crickets a constant tickle in the ear,
swathes of brown grass bouncing back after drought,
three troughs haphazard on a patch without
any grass. Bare dark earth.
the raven makes its cry
under a bright grey sky,
on a swampy, sweaty day .
my dog companion at my feet
"Come on then, let's go home."
Wild swathes of manic hues
struck ghostly angst in me
a fireball ambience
ensued and my banshee
wail at bright splodge ink sky
shattered stained glass moon’s glee
rich emerald fields
vast swathes of three leaf clovers ~
sweeping irish luck
Written June 5, 2025, for contest: Etheree Of Your Heart - Sponsor: Ink Empress
Syllable count verified: www.howmanysyllables.com
*****************
Breeze
broadcasts
charming pace
beats of the breeze
girls with clumsy legs
scrutinize for snail beads —
to the seamless sapphire sky
amid the swarm of silky clouds,
sculpt morphs into cobalt-hued visor
spume tails hover from peaks with cyclic bliss
winsome enthusiasm in our core swathes —
storm hooves herald the dawn of high tide
enshrines recall of past paths roved
rings rhythm of earned respite care
in sound and unspoilt place —
weaving whimsy waves
soothes my spirit.
drawn gold sky,
soul glint
stream
Mystique mist Shrouds the penultimate pathway
to the future fading Away in the obscurity haze.
At the onyx edge of Night the tunes of sunset swansong sway
the Gloomy facade of forlorn life, silhouetted still always
against the sunk somber skyline Upon the stormy sea.
The Insipid shards of shattered hope afloat as dejected debris
flow to Nowhere in the dormant stream of the unshed tears.
The remnant rays of resurgence survive Inside for years,
designing The latent lattice of dreams spreading to infinity,
swathes the listless life in the Yearning sphere of sanguinity.
Gloom descends upon my head,
Think it will never end.
Paint brush comes out,
Primary colors flit about.
Across the canvass in wide swathes.
Inked in buildings,
Some don't last.
Of towering structures covered in paint,
Green shadowed yards are so faint.
Clouds slashed across the sky.
Until the gloom is buried,
Behind the missing windows eye!
‘I was born with the meaning of home running through my veins.’ - Lauren Eden
the road to travel is long
wheels of time turn in last lap
on the path turning to subterranean river
incised within heart
i set sail sanguine
take the route to love
don’t ask the journey’s purpose
for i know from birth
someone will take me to the goldilocks zone
travel contented
in new walkway i pave on hailing terrain
in intimate twilight zone
swathes sky with longing spectrum
nostalgic gleam on the path
shines to take me home
i hear its close call in the whisper of blood
in my veins
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