The springtime rhythms are upon me.
A pound to the head of approaching winds.
I, like a dry leaf in spring, wander around ceaselessly.
A gypsy, squint eyed,
with a smirk and a nod calls out.
Spring is in the spirit of his wandering ways.
These scorching winds disavow every promise.
My profile ruddied with creativity is scattered and disjointed.
It's alright to admit defeat.
For once,
I dont need the company of strangers.
The scrape of yellow mud,
scraps of torn papers sing my song.
My poetic palette is stark and barren
Not a haiku in sight
Or a structure too benign.
The springtime narrative here is strange.
****
I found joy in little intermissions.
Breaks wrapped in moments of observation.
But now all I catch is a glimpse
The diurnal pattern
An all too comforting decoy is upon me.
I see clothes drying outside
Cell phones recharged
Calls too many
Aggressive correspondences too close for comfort.
A batter of taunts and what not!
Frowns in hidden cupboards
Smiles on the sly.
Topless views asunder.
Maybe the heat wave is truly upon us,
Or it's the buzzing sound.
A swarm of words swept away by forty degrees.
My silhouette wears an apron,
wiping sweat off its brow.
Tongue in cheek,
The day is gaunt and no more.
Springtime fantasies are in abstention here.
So is the glimmer of the poetry.
..........................
YOU ARE READING
WHISTLING CHIMES
PoetryTHIS IS AN ASSORTMENT OF POEMS THAT VARY IN MOOD, THEME AND VISION. VERSATILITY IS MY COMMON AIM AND I HAVE POURED OUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO EACH OF THESE WORKS. I HOPE MY VISION FINDS A MIRROR IN YOUR HEARTFELT RESPONSES. LET THIS POETIC JOURNEY...
