Saturday, June 27, 2015

Snowdrop

Withered petals of the autumn beauties
cascade to the ground
in a flurry of forgotten shades
Trees stand bare, only as a few pieces
of wood, coated with the shining powder
of a wintry paradise
that mirrors the weak sunshine
and shimmers faintly

And in this land of endless crystals,
boasting of cold, unfeeling elegance
devoid of the colors of warmth
exist a few strands of green,
contributing viridescence to a frosty scene,
topped with white, which melts in the snow,
difficult to discern, yet pleasurable once perceived
They battle the biting chill of the winter air,
blooming blithely, effortlessly,
their bells signaling the approach of dawn,
awakening nature from its slumber

Milky white against the darkness of dusk,
pale and enchanting against the light of the day,
resilient and unyielding,
yet an emblem of delicate allure,
light and fragrant,
whose scent never ceases to reach
the other creatures summoned by nature
Modest and demure,
mildly mocking, its petals open
in a flawless contrast of forest and frost

Taking the stage of the bliss of winter,
its counterparts having succumbed to the glacial ambience
stands the snowdrop,
conjured by an angel, having emerged from a snowflake,
as a symbol of hope during bleak times,
as evidence that winter thaws into spring,
that snow fades to scurrying life,
that sadness paves the path to joy

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Tapestry

I'd create a tapestry of the morning shine
that envelops the cloth of the waking forest
which boasts shards of chartreuse and tendrils of lime-
soft colors against the shadows of the ground
housing stirring creatures, roused by the solar gleam
that pours from the fabric of the rose pink sky
Golden threads would arise from the hidden stars
whose gentle glow weakens as the temperature grows
The clouds would smile, with their reflected light
bestowing the skyline with the coloration of white
which would highlight the proud green of each rustling tree,
creating the musical scene of a melody

I'd create a tapestry of the ocean waves
and weave the cerulean of the lapping waters
that sparkle in the sunlight that lights up the sky
into which sprays of saline froth would fly
The sun would cross the horizon, its radiance weak,
the ocean dampening its fiery light,
extinguishing its blaze, letting puddles of amber
seep into the churning waters that meet the darkening sky
that extend indefinitely beyond, invisible to humanity,
yet visible on my tapestry of the ocean waves
that accentuate the shades of the blue sea,
whose varying colors join in harmony

I'd create a tapestry of the celestial hues
which rain down from the heavens as the moon grows
into an orb of luster from a luminous pearl
that transforms the darkness of the night sky
into the beauty of the shades of midnight blue
The stars would align in a shower of light
whose innocence cascades from their delicate glow
and aligns with the dreams of the earthlings who sleep,
whose enemy is the golden rays
of the sun, which represents the celestial foe
of my tapestry of the moon-bathed tints,
with a sky sprinkled by the consonance of tones of blue

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

The Roseate Glow

The countryside beckoned invitingly
with verdant arms
The sun glowed enticingly,
drawing her away from the dullness of her room,
toward the golden sparkles it emitted
Laying stretched across the emerald blades of grass,
closing her eyes,
her hair whipping in the wind
she dared to dream

She was dressed in a gown of rosy pink,
whose edges danced about in the breeze
It shimmered in the light of the golden sky,
it reflected the red hues of the autumn leaves
Her silken hair trailed behind her,
in a long, flowing curtain
that mirrored the gusts of the bracing wind,
that pirouetted its own distinctive dance,
while her glowing eyes focused far in the distance...
they focused at nothing, as if in a trance
Blood rushed to her face, emanating a roseate gleam
of exhilaration, as she felt herself rising up
leaving behind the emerald blades of grass,
joining the clouds that hung so low,
that were bathed in the sun's golden glow,
joining the tapestry of the pale sky,
whose squalls whispered alluringly
Bidding farewell to the tedium of the ground,
entering the enchantment of the undulating heavens,
approaching the distant light
that was emitted by the golden orb that burned so far
Her gown sweeping behind her,
its encrusted jewels echoing the glare of the clouds
that hung high and proud,
its soft substance giving her wings
subject to the power of the winds it conjured,
she left the earth,
and entered the skies

She opened her eyes, happy, peaceful,
her hands running over the emerald blades of grass
that glittered in the moonlight
of the bygone sun
and saw, in shock, the gown
of rosy pink,
whose edges danced in the midnight breeze,
reflecting the hues of the moon-kissed leaves

Sunday, June 7, 2015

An Ersatz Epoch

Tube lights imitate the pallor of the sun's rays
at noon- white, violent, illuminating
Lamps replicate the lighting at dusk,
as the sun gradually dips
below the horizon-
a soft orange glow, mildly red,
a cozy, welcoming gleam
Night lights offer us as much comfort
as the twinkling stars do at night-
not enough to awaken us,
but enough to comfort us-
mild and unobtrusive
but reassuring all the same,
for they remind us that light and darkness can coexist
and still create beauty
Soft, carpeted floors-
akin to the soothing texture of grass
that we rarely have the pleasure to experience
when they tickle the soles of our feet
The marble floors of homes
remind us of the unforgiving solidity
of the earth's crust
Four walls confine us,
just as the walls of the earth,
the enclosure of our galaxy,
of the universe, do-
limiting us, keeping us unknowingly imprisoned,
for they seem to give us all that the earth can, and more-
serenity, security, a sense of home
We live in an artificial world,
a smaller version of the real one
And on the earth exists millions and millions
of artificial homes
while the real world- the original- the beginning
sinks down into neglect