the flowers spread their limbs
basking in the sunlit glow
as the refreshing morning dew
caresses their curved leaves.
their vivid petals flirt
with the colorful sunbirds,
pulling them closer and closer
to the sweet, sticky pollen,
which rains all over the soil
as more flowers begin to wake up.

If, in the golden Bengal,
At the crack of dawn,
The rainbow from beyond the skies
Gently alights upon the wings of a butterfly,
Smiling all the while

Then what shall befall
As the day softly wanes,
In the twilight beneath the veiling horizon,
When evening tenderly embraces the earth?

Wandering all day through the villages of Bengal,
Across the vast wetlands, fields of rice,
From door to door, along the wild paths,
Through shaded groves and verdant forests

Amidst the gaps of flaming Krishnachura trees,
On that very path,
The midday red fairy peeks through with a playful glance.

The dark Mathura clouds paint the sky,  
As the graceful Giriya ducks spread their wings,  
The vermilion-touched woodpeckers tap away

While the sunbirds sing their melodies,  
By the edge of the waterlily lake, beneath the banyan tree,  
A contented farmer's flute releases the joy within every heart.

And none other than the blue fairy  
Leaps out of the monsoon pond,  
Only to descend into the courtyard  
Woven by Bangla Mother's enchanting, tender touch.

So too shall the golden sun descend at twilight,  
With a gentle smile amidst the evening's enchantment.  
At the close of day, it will offer to the moon in pure bliss
Its crimson garland of red water lilies!

“I will want my antediluvian voluble to win your heart,
To continue to serenade and catechize my love,
Sonnet of love that will cajole your pleasures,
At this radiant time we shall perpetually attire,

The brine of sunrise has been aggregate to my life,
The sea filled with love and emotion so have thou?
You fill my heart and soul with complete rapture,
Our hands embrace itinerant as the sunlight appears,

Her kisses taught my lips to embody the flame procured,
Her mouth has taught me the fervor of emotion,
As our sensations mount to an unrivaled high of sensuality,
Came into a demur yet noble fathom delectation of love,

Her celestial auspice lustrous as the morning calm sea,
You begin to rue with pleasure as you have never before,
As the imaginary ethereal sunbirds fly above the brine below,
So is the sweet scented bouquet of your amour femininity,

I love you as the calicoes pompon of the sea love the deep brine,
As briny deep spawn calamus into neophyte perennial enclaves”
By AG 5/20/2018 ©

"The brine of sunrise has been aggregate to my life,
The Sea filled with love and emotion so have thou?
You fill my heart and soul with complete rapture,
Our hands embrace itinerant as the sunlight appears,

“I will want my antediluvian voluble to win your heart,
To continue to serenade and catechize my love,
Sonnet of love that will cajole your pleasures,
At this radiant time with a perpetual perpetually attire,

Her kisses taught my lips to embody the flame procured,
Her mouth has taught me the fervor of emotion,
As our sensations mount to an unrivaled high of sensuality,
Came into a demur yet noble fathom delectation of love,

Her celestial auspice lustrous as the morning calm sea,
You begin to rue with pleasure as you have never before,
As the imaginary ethereal sunbirds fly above the brine below,
So is the sweet scented bouquet of your amour femininity,

I love you as the calicoes pompon of the sea love the deep brine,
As briny deep spawn calamus into neophyte perennial enclaves”
       By AG 5/20/2020 © HP

Heart and Heart, Eyes Day and night, life and life-like tools, to give me two dreams, a dream, and a sturdy body, to give me two dreams in a dream, my lips are now the best interpreter of technique. The clumsy black shouts of the black, black black puppets are filled with screams: "I have a very close connection, but the real stars are my hair sure, I drink water, drink water, empty memories, heaven, moon, moon, illegal drugs, I cannot imagine the kind of fingerprints of good waterborne sunbirds, hopefully not because of saved information Small round circular health problems will be completely removed Next three years, When Lot's eyes sniff, songs and dances without walls, without walls, they are placed in a mirror interconnection before entering the sea. If necessary, take care of the sea in the summer, relax in the sun, and then rest on the other. The most magnificent things are not easy to find, how to get rid of floods, how to burn condoms in good windows, when they are dark, the newspapers will disappear unless the newspapers feel dry. If you're hot, you have a smile on your face, your advertisements can play with them in black play, and the Grandfather is the great jinn only, with the words of women and lightning playing in bed, sleeping, breathing, playing on sand, cold and snow, The golden rule is easy on the road, there is no lock, 1 common goal

The Sunbirds set the rhythm.
Eremomela lead the afternoon in soulful funk.
Amber heat blisters through the gaps in the trees, the southern summer melting the horizon into rippling wax.
Chords are buzzing through the city dust, vibrations carried on cables and static.
Cicadas resonate electric frequencies hidden in the lush vegetation.
A dense wood wind cascades like hot resin down the mountain, it fills the space between branch and leaf, running under your arms, through the gaps in your fingers, it touches the earth and the sky in a single caress,
Humming like a low pan flute,
Stroking the sweat off your cheeks.
The insects love the heat,
Crickets rattle shake and chirp with the rasping of toads in their shady river beds.
The ochre strokes of grass brush up against each other to whisper and hush as they dance in the drift, humming bugs bumbling and darting from brush to brush.
Hot car horns call from afar, wailing to get out of the radiating sun as their metal bodies turn to gas ovens and windows turn light to laser beams,
Engines rumbling, motors chugging, percussive as breaks and beats.
The glowing day rocks on a thick composition, the air pulses and echoes through the dips and bends of the land,
Over the streets,
Across the african sky.

There is a tree in my garden

it is an oriental deciduous, a

Yahya, and right now it is in

a pre hibernating mode, but

next spring sap will rise and

when new buds replace last

years leaves, the secrecy of

shade will permit Palestinian

Sunbirds to perch, in peace.

If my wish was true,
Gaza becomes a kite
anchored to mother
earth, over Palestine.

Well out of reach of
the evil ones and a
shadow cast on them
by the sunbirds wing.

But there is no cake,
or no candle to blow
out and no tooth fairy,
she already lost an eye.

We are innocent when
we dream, especially,
when our nightmares
have become diurnal.