A Mini Poetry Blog
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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I started committing various suicides in my various dreams as a 1st grader. what kind of child was only allowed To keep tears and bruise to herself.. I started jumping down from agitated skyscrapers in my agitated dreams as a relentless crusader. what kind of crusader pursued virtual death with such unwavering passion and obsession..…
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Sweet sour autumn rains fall quietly like air, And my flimsy heart is an aimless floating kite, Its purple wings seized my struggling lungs, invisibly buoy me to the rivulets of sunlights. My dreams are mostly dull and silent, Despite the realities are proud and loud, The beauty on earth is so blue, With every…
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There is the pausing silence in my prayers, and the quietness of falling leaves landing on my breath, As I reach out my limbs to be showered by earliest dawn lights, she sends me away with the coldest scorn and the gentlest breeze! Yet my feet are restlessly undisturbed, matching still, in meaningless tandem. There…
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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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How fate orchestrates is unfathomable, I come from ancient ocean another shore, The god-forsaken soil and the thorny-land, and you, my friend, the long-known bright world. When I am feeling depressed and anxiously sullen, all you have to do is kindly send me another whisper, and reveal life’s tenderness in its flesh and breath. when…
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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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Whenever my heartbeats out of rhythm, I secretly blame you, my friend! like a violet in the meadow grew, Bowed to earth, and hid from view: what a strange melody, oftentimes, you’ve sung to my heart’s sentiments. Are you caught by bonny youth By that beloved form and fresh dew, By those eyes seem so…
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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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If I am allowed of heartfelt honesty, I cherish neither my profession nor education, they are dust and ash in my truthful eyes; If I am allowed of blatant sincerity, I am of deprived both ambition and direction, they mean nothing to a woman who dwells in infinity of time. If I am to be…
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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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1 Before me awaits a heap of shapeless days, unseparated atoms capable of endless possibilities, I must seek the best of goodness and live with it. Behind me a distance bridge of leftover days, Separated peaches ripen prematurely without rains, I once traveled in wild dreams and lived with it. When the world turned completely…
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Along with our madness and wild flowers, there comes the strangest kind of silence, spraying every fiber of the beings and non-beings, calling for more…. I’d love to be the voice of a soprano singer, so I can move through all borders and see them vanish with every spell-binding note. I’d love to be the…
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