Fallen leaves of pulchritudinous spring,
Forgotten lyrics of a classic song,
Gloomy sunshine of morning daylight,
Glittering pearls of splintery ornament,
Like your celestial dreams deliquesced in the dusky life,
Are timelessly dwindling like the snowstorm in the red-hot river.
Time with its ironbound hand has shellacked light before your eyes,
When will you see it again?
The golden cradle of selfish love,
The crimson penumbra of poisonous love,
The sepia string of scrappy love,
Have sundered your cerulean space of selfless love.
But your lovely appearance is untouched by lovelessness of
pulverizing purpled pennoned love.
Your beauty did not shell out euphoria,
Your skilled redolence did not please you,
Your plangent petals of clement soul is needed to none,
With thorns of little tussle even, you are flimsy quintessence.
In the nocturnal hush of despair,
Your whishes are not voiced.
In the breathless water down of usual febrific routine,
You forgot to laugh.
In the uphill waves of sea of life’s hardships cycle,
You lost yourself.
Your loneliness of incessant lacuna,
Your hopelessness of solitary space,
Scattered dreams of your shattered recollection,
Still longed to be soothen, to share
With coloured eyes lingering
persistently,
Remains ever loosing saffron
of everlasting rose.
By
Jyothsnaphanija
Forgotten lyrics of a classic song,
Gloomy sunshine of morning daylight,
Glittering pearls of splintery ornament,
Like your celestial dreams deliquesced in the dusky life,
Are timelessly dwindling like the snowstorm in the red-hot river.
Time with its ironbound hand has shellacked light before your eyes,
When will you see it again?
The golden cradle of selfish love,
The crimson penumbra of poisonous love,
The sepia string of scrappy love,
Have sundered your cerulean space of selfless love.
But your lovely appearance is untouched by lovelessness of
pulverizing purpled pennoned love.
Your beauty did not shell out euphoria,
Your skilled redolence did not please you,
Your plangent petals of clement soul is needed to none,
With thorns of little tussle even, you are flimsy quintessence.
In the nocturnal hush of despair,
Your whishes are not voiced.
In the breathless water down of usual febrific routine,
You forgot to laugh.
In the uphill waves of sea of life’s hardships cycle,
You lost yourself.
Your loneliness of incessant lacuna,
Your hopelessness of solitary space,
Scattered dreams of your shattered recollection,
Still longed to be soothen, to share
With coloured eyes lingering
persistently,
Remains ever loosing saffron
of everlasting rose.
By
Jyothsnaphanija