May I kiss you on your  lovely cheeks
Fountain of beauty my tongue seeks
Juice of life from grapes just speaks
Let me take from you all beauty streaks

When my hand touch your silky dress
Your hidden treasure oozes to impress
Do not ask me what you just all possess
I am your prince you are my princess

Let me take you in my real warm arms
Forget about all world useless  norms
Let me allow to play with your charms
Let my love alluring beauty swarms

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

It is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
And waltzes with her prince, The Fall Wind.
But when the clock strikes twelve,
Winter comes along with her December and January Winds,
Snatching up Autumn’s bright apparel
And clothing her in nothing but somber tatters.
Autumn keeps quiet, until the first rays
Of Spring’s long awaited sunshine
Touches the depths of Winter’s dark dungeon.
Autumn is showered with Spring’s rain,
And is coaxed into fashioning a new dress
With the same warm, golden tones of color,
But, this time, in a different pattern.
It is Summer’s sunshine, now, that assists Autumn,
With an occasional July thunderstorm to help form the new dress.
August passes by to give his opinion, and Autumn is finally ready.
For it is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
to waltz with her prince, The Fall Wind.

My childhood, what a rosy picture. The Texas drought was over. You could see the dewy leaves, on the wet sidewalk. The tree’s, so grand, towering over me. The sun peeks through the branches, and a beam of light meets my eye. I see gold dust gleaming, glittering, glowing; which makes my yellow sundress twirl round, and round, and round. The clouds blush pillows of rosy gold. A light airy mist lands delicately in my caramel colored hair. No worries, no responsibilities.
All the grass is wet, and green again.
I am happy.

I want to be
the
Cruel type of
Beautiful--

with my lips dripping
Blood and my dress
Trailing jewels,
My insecurities hidden between each
Fold of silk, saying
"I can **** if I must//"
but I won't

The kind where
after crying  
my eyes are red-
(Not from sadness
But)
from anger and dissociation,
and people fear what I have not said--
With my  
heart stitches torn open, and ink
Seeping through

and I'll never have to
Apologize.

woman

you are
dazzle,

powdered
stomp of
colours,

mist dew
bright of
song,

melody
of a hum
when you
speak,

clear eyes
sparkle on
the surface,
delicate,
serene,

today you
said softly,

budge a little
in the path of  
an evening sun,
it gets into my eyes,

you shall be
the death of me,

should I be left
with words and
rhyme,

these stiff
laces of device
I call poems,

of what use
are they,

you will
not be
here,

my heart
gnaws,
twists,

caught
in perils
of desire

oh garbage
words,
you are a
beggar's
lament

be away,
let me
gaze at
her while
time benignly
spins a top,

soon it
is bound
to topple

this alphabet
string,
pearl scatter
of a necklace,

be away,
verse,

futility,

to live in
a papered
world when
loveliness
shrivels
to another
lost moment,

be away,
illusion

let me see
it as it is

her yellow
dress,

gathering
light,
her terse
shades,

her yellow
dress  

let
dreams
tarry a
little,

speckled,
hypnotized,
sunshine,  

her
yellow
dress

shall be
the death
of me