“Take away, the paper;
cuts a hole in the heart.”

Like bloom anew, awoken,
and envious: a verde-begotten
flaunty smirch veiled upon;
to flourish, now or maybe then?

Thereon fringes; in between spaces,
And the perversely peeking quills
spying; as eager ambience instills;
The silver bearing fissures seethes

red to be and yet; I see it paler,
that I might have it shed if ever
a pearl would shine over its beholder,
I’d dye me green, and cast that hand away.

“Drift away, the ink;
trails farewell apart.”

"I sing for the past; in hope to wail for the coming future."

He says.

What of the present?
I ask---
And what of the passing time?

The glass freezes; rends
and the raindrop---
The doorbell, and th' songbird;

The mannequin moves,
And stops to listen

To the roses and
the dandelions;
Promises and---
The ever lying
lilacs,

Then walks unturned,
To ignore; yet again
Steps'n turns unvain-
ly; the floor churned

And he was sold to the ever inconstant.

Laughter upon my lips,
Ere my ears it slips
along it falls,
And silence fell;

Always.


"Envy be me."
I thought.

"Pity be you."
I last heard.

The door closes;
The mannequin speaks.

A mirror a warp, rivers and weft;
I found a world, in all woven scripts.

A boon rare'n fleetingly
Adamant; courteous in mien,
Your silhouette unbound;
Your complexion unhindered;

A glint of yond'r,
Stolen glimpse, far fetched;
Fluster; gossamer,
It's been long Pucelle.

A glimpse of the unseen, a façade cleft;
There will I see you, yonder which thy beauty encrypts.

Colours in my eyes; like rain
as it drizzles, verses in vain;
Thoughts upon layering vines
of prosetry; a delightful hymn.

More than a picture; a metaphor:

A dismay of one's own fancy,
Prismatic one would say; vibrant-
ly laced strings trilled, on a fancy;
Whimsical: clinquantly fervent,

Or so one would say; gracing,
Painting cliques; of colours
of places upon themselves;
As a canvass wild wandering,

Upon the world in its charming flatter.

Unlike I, one bound deeply; enfettered
gladly in between dimly shades of two.

"A mixture of velvety crimson and deep royal violet."

Love’s soother, sweeter than all lyre’s thrall,
Hark the lullaby held it captive, lest all sirens fall…

O sweeting!
Sang the wind unto me,
Lacking stature, crimsoned complexion,
My wishful gaze upon one…

Shades of affection, a dye hight red,
Sparked living as I gasped, “O yonder boon !”
Harbouring lust, yet gallantly shining;
Enchanting I, my soul deeply ensnared,

Yonder eyes, colourful or maybe of a shade?
One upon worlds, fair gleaming masquerade,
Myriad in colours, the fountain of all shades,
All but one it gleams, ‘tis yonder shade yclept fade…

Like Mab granting night’s pseudo-heaven,
Thou art to me my fairy, verily Mab; O amabilis!
Mine velvet noon, whose night’s fair and fancy,
O fair muse! La pucelle d’Alfheim, I flatter thee!

Flattering personas, all of the fairest,
Though one was lost, of all which I know not,
Wilt thou? Indulge me in those, thy full façade?