.....The brush rushes the paint, the
                        grudge    
    is ripe. Cultivate it or let it rust.
  The paint stale, the painter frail.
   Caved canvas like sails of a sailor.
  Clash of nimbuses pales the skin  
as thunder waltzes ashore the ocean,
       ballets on the sea like swans
  entwined dancing with the wind.
You'll love the voice of melody when  
                  harmony sings.
       Deep bliss drowns sins for    
      peace to glimpse the surface

              Poets — coherent,
          honest with even pens
     and odd ends. Warm hearts
               with cold hands.
      The bane engaged with pain,
               as faith fades and
          blank pages mar sanity.
                Life springs anew
From the well of thoughts flowing
                Through the pen.

/
When turning to cross
The  known road
Nightfall sought at transition
Juncture in the global
The road was not going
To go straight to,
Long trees standing as rows
The situation was the frolic of shadows

What a strange illusion
In the air
All the time together
Calling with his hand  
Meantime few steps to the New street
Evenings Came
Tuning of falling leaves
It was all the upset heart
Of the tune
Dry leaves on the road
With the wind in love
The impatient soul

Known moon far away,
Solo
Moonlit falling on the street
In the gap of trees,
Half-light, half shadow
Of aesthetic
Sudden heart bothered
For whom
Restless reflections breaking the heart
Known music floats
In the air
Yet too mystic!
As if the time,
Passing thousands of dreams  
Moving toward the ultimate way to
/
@Musfiq us shaleheen

Benign, benevolent ballerina bubbly bathing by beautiful blossoming balsams.

A gander I took and I was a statue, still, allured, and enchanted. my lips basted by beauty, before her I was an apparition, lost in forests of adulation.

A vanishing spirit soon to be a vestige of a vestige. I shall wage wars, arm myself and battle my way to her hands that can melt the glaciers residing in my heart.

She is
The heart of poetry,
The cynosure in art,
The spirit of love
That renews honesty.
More precious than
Jewels of God,
mesmerising
arch angels in the centre of heaven having more love than two hearts combine, she's alive and so are we as she imbues us with her life.

The roof is only a foundation, the sky above our heads is the ground beneath her feet and still she is down to earth.

The sun reside within her chest, glistering as she stands, with eyes made of pearls gaze into them and witness fields of elation emerge,where harmony is the ying and melody the yang.