I.
I have heard of summers bereft of lanterns:
when the billows dishearten the sterns
and the cicadas are refused their echoes.
At eventide, along serenades and brimming
drums under the moonlight, gleaming—
over untied wishes as they perch
on untouched canopies and
patiently— under the lightless cradle.
Unto the iridescent fire-flower:
I pray for a summer dyed pink.
(but the flames cling still to the wicks.)
II.
In a port where dreams lift their anchors,
awaits a maiden solus, fiery with ardour—
full of dreams; her strides full of lush!
With most endearment, dare she asks:
if a lieu would be spared in her name;
if our hearts would remain stark aflame,
upon farewell, at her swan-song?
Towards a city where stars end:
She marches and points her north.
(like an ember left aghast without its light,
the unending summer at the back of my mind.)
III.
A lone maiden stands at summer's end;
wishes tied on mahogany, her colours—
dyed the expanse cerulean awhole,
and its interpause, in mirthful rose.
Sep 1, 2024
Sep 1, 2024 at 8:30 AM UTC
I.
There are no pillars of fire to—
gather around; the clouds, they
deluge the prayers to and fro.
The deafened rumblings racing
the pouring torrents, as they
try to reach out, to answer,
and frown like morose protests,
like restless tantrums; and I—
I can only gasp for air.
Like salvations and unmet counsels.
II.
Remembrance follows ever-dearly;
shuffles carelessly amongst hasty—
coronations of dusted amber,
of dubious prints on the sand,
and it comes along, lavishly.
Esperance creeps tauntingly:
I wonder if it’s within me,
to reach out and sear the weave—
with conjoined hands, praying for air.
Like revising sextants and astrolabes.
III.
Dread is a candle in the dark,
nestled tightly into the fingers
and burrowed deeply into—
hands; they choose to hold on.
Blessed are the hands that harrow
and lean to the curtains of twilight,
to the lenses of hindsight:
merely debtors, to the fealty of morrow.
I can no longer grasp for air.
Like rainbows after a downpour, like chrysalides striking an impasse.
.
May 24, 2024
May 24, 2024 at 7:13 PM UTC
You tread so, unfondly and almost—
too carefully after the echoes
of wintry whisperings, yet swerve—
and twirl in a grand vesture
of fireflies, of distant worries;
dream like a glowing summer
amongst dwindling youths
and enraptured stardust:
solemnly, and dearly too.
"I will be happy, if you were..."
insistent, you professed; yet deny me—
your caged heart.
Your silhouette casts over
the fiery meadow, over—
the vibrant ruins; finds harbour
only, in the eyes of the serpent
and prance wreathed in light.
Caress your clipped wings; embrace—
yourself and bear in mind, always:
I will sit with you in the dark.
Jan 7, 2023
Jan 7, 2023 at 9:52 AM UTC
When certain thoughts gather in a cyclic recession, and the measure of moments decline; however dearly:
various arrays of colours and motives tend to converge into a common, single voice:
_"I wanted to be better."_
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 4:33 PM UTC
I.
I once asked about halations, and wondered what they were;
if they did at all exist, for once.
How they'd appear only in blurry and unfocused pictures,
or perhaps at times, still and expectant on the verge of our tears?
Now the question:
"What makes a halation?" And if we're thinking of the same thing.
II.
So I then wrote about halations, and tried to make (believe) sense—
of what they were (not) portraying.
I spoke of their lucidity amongst all others,
of their ever-curious charm,
and of their picturesque whims—
yet denied them a photograph, and opt for another.
Hence was said:
"More than a picture: a metaphor."
In other words: are we thinking of the same thing?
III.
With it, I'll once again talk about halations, and wonder where they are;
wonder when they might appear.
If the lights still scatter after—
and on the far side: if they would cast the same fair shades then.
Here I quote:
"For every shot taken is merely a remnant of the most beautiful."
I will speak of the light and without doubt—
be thinking of a different someone.
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 4:26 PM UTC
You'd ask me over again,
If it's okay to not want;
to not ask for more.
I would in turn answer again—
and over again:
*"Despite the distances walked,
and sparing moments borrowed,
I don't—
I wouldn't mind,"*
because to love is to give,
and that is all I know.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 9:37 PM UTC
.
To the ever-lustrous Starlet—
*Should I miss the fireworks,
Would you then save me a dance?
For when the stars would align,
for the afterlight,
and one just bow in the starlight?*
And its captivating constellation.
*Should hope flee and wane:
When the sparkles pass over
and stars reflected no longer
by the shore, in the afterlight,
Would you return my bargained sight?*
Where falls your shimmering stardust?
*Should we see a downpour by the starlight
and be drenched agleam under the moonlight,
Should I miss the excitement cascading
and the silken-moon cast in your eyes,
Will you tell me and speak of the light?*
Upon my crown; by the eventide? If at all—
*A glimpse, of that one look ever-bright;
(A tint of honesty, on those rosy cheeks;)
for when I love you so.
(for when you love me so.)*
If your waltz would let the heavens rest undazzled.
.
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 6:36 AM UTC
Know that every mention of the stars reminds me of you;
and that whenever I look at the stars,
I'll think of you.
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 5:40 PM UTC
The anticipation: the moment before the line picks up,
one compelling split second before I hear your voice.
Hello?
And the ember keeps its light.
Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 6:35 AM UTC
"For every shot taken is merely a remnant of the most beautiful."
Portrait or Landscape,
was a question I had. As I took my stride
by the sunset, each step closer to decide:
If I should choose to line her by the horizon,
if her smile would grace the far lazing firmament?
Or have me content; to fit her full by the screen,
to fix her eyes upon me: A never ending entrancement.
Or if I should at all risk pauses in between? An endeavour,
a plausible reasoning to paste eternal; to capture every moment.
I disagreed.
So I put my camera down and lived the moment.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC