Peonies of Poesy

Peonies of poesy

acting as a parasol

from the scorching heat of reality.

Amaltas dreams peep through 

 gossamer veils. 

Emotional myalgia,

somnolent hours,

a sudden bazooka of rainbow syllables

shot through the syntax of memory.

Sunflower renditions,

The wind in her hair.

She wanted a bougainvillea 

I gave her dreams 

chiseled out of my bones,

Epitaphs of proclivity,

sands of time.

A glass window and 

Autumn sauntering on my lacerated bosom.

Ballistic oxymoron

Seeping through leaked rhymes.

The world is but a granule of sand

seeping fast through my fingers.

The mountains echoed luminous ballads

on starry nights.

Mist-wreathed hilltops hummed verdant dreams

As October bid goodbye

wrapped in a silken thread of memory.

Clouds waltzed in front of my window.

The turf is filled with leftover poems

that fell prey to the sands of time.

I bit the side of the moon and kept the rest for dinner.

My poems lay tired like the old armchair. 

They gave me a weary smile.

The smell of dreams percolated my senses;

gestured me with a happy articulation. 

Life is a conundrum

but we must move on

Shaking off problems like the little girl shaking off the sand from her sandal.