A Mini Poetry Blog
Love is in your eyes, sitting silent by my side Going on, holding hands, walking through the night Hold me up, hold me tight, lift me up to touch the sky Teaching me to love with heart, helping me open my mind I can fly, I’m proud that I can fly To give the best…
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It seems I’ve deviated from your gaze, Hiding safely inside April’s coy dews, Longing for a crystal world of my own. Smiles, tears, dancing all my life, dreams as the north wind blows restlessly, to bleed, to rest in penance ever willingly, and to wake at dawn still, holding a fragment of life’s lamenting song…
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What chapter are we at? Sometimes I am numb, Sometimes I am touched, Sometimes I feel dead, Sometimes I see hope. Are you still here with me in my youth, my breath, my silence, and those of our stubborn faith? Sometimes I wonder what they see when again probing and staring into my eyes? For…
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And life, by nature, is the most lavish feast, painted four seasons combined with five senses, bewitching skies and sweet gardens be my faves, but they are plain without a home and some love. Can I buy a Heaven’s mansion like the gods have? I’d plant dulcet Narcissus and sip summery dews, dance every cloud…
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Wild bells, frosty earth, and sacred sky, Rang in the love of truth and eternal light, Once a white Christmas, you arrived this world with amber daises and dainty whimsical delight. Happy bells, stormy land, and dutiful stars, Rang in the new blood, rang out the ancient feud, On a cherry Christmas, you came silently…
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You are half a world away, standing right next to me, speaking silence in a dream, with lissome cherrywood and eyes as bright as sunlights on a stream. I scarcely believed one day I’d love, and to endure vicissitudes and changing seasons, But Love mimics not the falling fruit, from the withered December trees, but…
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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
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Your smiling, or the contemplation of such, is the wondrous life force of the airy earth, Lucent as shadows slowed by wading moonlights, teaches the leaves to pause in cascading languors, And the wood nymphs now must sing and strive to dream. Their hair like willows diffuse the rhythmic monotones, Their gaze towards silken river…
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Claret sugar maple, Ginkgoes of fading gold, Now falls tenderly the last hues of autumn, Mischievously stirring a momentary discontent, from the ample bosoms of the sullen years buried, And to fright the souls again with fragmentary plights. How I wished the pearly clouds landing beside in victorious wreath, and garland of promises, Fly me…
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Here comes the surrender, to the rest of our days, When the fading song that lingers, can be contented with twilights’ caress, and calms the rains on my bewildered face… I am searching for the faraway Greenland of peace, where I might lie beside autumn’s demure rivercrest, dancing wild, shout in remorse and cry at…
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Morning demure roses, blessings of each melodic breath, warmed by early summer prayers, tentatively stirring the stillest pulses. In its quietude silently blooms, A waking soul’s ardent longing, the passacaglia of a fragile being… Dear readers and friends, I thought it would be wonderful to share with you my choreographic work ‘Poemy’. This is a…
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When the summer comes we shall meet again, my friend, For the woods are brimming in blooms and blowing fresh roses, And love is burning diamonds hanging around chestnut trees. A maiden sits along riverbanks combing her hair, it’s where I will sing to you without moment despair, And lay my aching weariness upon you…
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Do you know the land, where the lemon-trees grow, Among darkened leaves crimson-lychees glow, A mellow wind swings from the pale blue sky, The myrtle stands mute and the oak tree high? Do you know the house, It has columns and beams, There are the hallway gleams and glittering rooms, Are those marble figures looking…
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I asked him for help, his wife had been mad, he nodded, with eyes fixed on a shelf full of philosophical books, and that was it. I begged for his support, his wife had been bad, he frowned, the eloquent tongue of a diplomat fell in dead silence, and that was it. I cried for…
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Softly, in the mist of moonlight, a woman is singing to me, black feet-long hair with a smile so genteel; taking me back down the vista of years, still I see a child sitting behind the grand oak tree, accompanied by the drowsy eyes of blooming leaves, and harbored within a thousand impossible dreams, when…
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I’d love my world be a freshly painted fresco, And I be blessed with the genius of Michelangelo, where I see a fair angel in the marble and carve relentlessly till I set him free; where coloured shapes and misplaced hallows of aged, ineffectual lives melt into white flowers blowing carelessly in the wind, And…
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The Modern Etiquette 