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Vishak Narayanan Jun 2014
As the light slowly etches away the night,
The colours slowly pop up, bold and bright.
They glisten as they finally reach out to their life source,
And suddenly life's denied of any remorse.
The gods have frilled their favorite planet for the grand opening of the year,
A cosmic intervention, a dimension of no fear.
And the trees rejoice, as they humbly accept the gift heavens bring.
And the trees rejoice, as it is the time of the venutian spring.


The planet begins to scorch as the mighty sun brings forth his might,
A new world is put in order, the day shines with the brightest light.
And the nights are shorter, who would want to sleep?
The season is young, brimming, tender and ready to reap.
The aura blankets the lonely planet, a radiance of sheer power,
Automating anything and everything that makes worlds what they are.
And the children rejoice, as they live their childhood like no one shall ever.
And the children rejoice, as it is the time of the mercurial summer.


The third quarter commences, the sun slowly begins to shy away,
The lethargy sets in, the rustling of the leaves fills the empty voids of the day.
What hath this sound done to the mighty Helios, for him to curtail his blazing steeds?
Winds humming, forcing the flame to succumb to their needs.
Orange and gold strewn on the open land, opens the gateway to a world azure.
Dusk dominates this time of the year.
And the winds rejoice, as they blow coupled with the soft rustling percussion.
And the winds rejoice, as it is the time of the erisian autumn.


The year opens to its close, a cloud shedding white precipitate,
has opened itself to the world in which people relate.
A blanket of frost covers all, a preservative by all means.
Few think of this as a time of redeem.
A solitary tree stands, below it, the dead memories of the yester seasons.
The night overpowers the day, rest need not need reason.
And the world rejoices, as it braces itself for the forthcoming year.
And the world rejoices, as it is the time of the martian winter.
Postman Aug 2017
In white
he was dressed
but all my senses screamed red,
dipped in scorching passion
as he came and stood before me
there and then, his plush lips made an O
as he uttered efficiently the word, hello
Oh! holy hell,
my feet went feeble and
my mind somersaulted,
Sudden hormonal rush
made me blush as if
I were a crazy, stupid teenager.
Oh! Please get a grip
my inner goddess pursed her lips.
His tongue rolled, the velvety sound
like a love song dipped in butter
oozed from his deliciously moist mouth,
it made no sense,
but left me soaked in sensation.
Sensuous sound of his voice
was like a melody of monsoon
on a vivaldian violin.
How I wished we were alone,
not amidst the **** crowd,
How I desired your hands
to discover my contour,
contour that craved for you.
Intense inclination induced by
what? love or infatuation?
I simply don't care, now
all I want is to have you right here.
Postman Jul 2017
The vivaldian violin on
the sweet green grass,
the melodious moon
oozing sensuous bass,
'Tis a time drenched in
delicate honey delight.

On the luscious grass,
I swoon under the moon
as you, with a fine gaze,
send my mind to a maze.

The maddening wine
in your twinkling eye
invites the amorous vine
to rise high, up in sky.

As I see the ritzy river
embracing the rivulets,
lakes amidst lakelets,
islands around islets,
offer life in a new hue,
all in one fine you.

— The End —