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Sweet Box…

There it is, in earnest he exulted,
Atop the shelf…the scarlet box,
With silver ribbons braided,
Twirling around like curly locks.

Filled with jewels of deep desire,
’tis an object of taste profound,
The salve for a man’s ire,
He said, staring with affection abound.

Sweet memories carefully encased,
Reminiscing moments precious,
With the sweet of your love laced,
’tis emanates an aroma luscious.

A glimpse is what he craved,
Of the morsels of palatal pleasure,
Asleep softly and neatly cased,
To be awakened by a swift gesture.

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A True Tale

Did you hear the cacophony,
Of men burly ‘n’ wearing tights,
Who swore by common ancestry,
In mature yet mindless fights?

Over sour ale did they chatter,
Questioning the fancy regime,
That gave not a full platter,
But doses of a hollow dream.

Their fists they banged with might,
While the tapers flickered with fear,
To an uprising that was alight,
For castigating the pitiless royal tier.

With pitchforks, axe and spade,
The bastion they stormed in a flurry,
With a war cry of profound hate,
As the horizon blazed with fury.

“Execute ‘em all”, they roared,
Dashing the china to smithereens
Stagecoaches and satin all burned,
Ending the loathsome regal reigns.

Man of Thirty

Sharp and graciously refined

Walking with steps speedy,

Symbol of elegance well defined

He is a man of thirty.

 

Sporting a bonny coiffeur

And a suit so royally navy,

Shoes shining like silver

He is a man of thirty.

 

Apple of his friends’ eye,

Candy of ladies pretty

Always with spirits high

He is a man of thirty.

 

Echoing a boyish charm

His laugh breaks all monotony

A personality so deeply warm

He is a man of thirty.

 

Carefree yet so matured,

Values and emotions saintly,

Making you feel assured.

He is a man of thirty.

Cast Away

Time has stood still today,

Frozen with thy words, mocking,

Crude ‘n’ coarse than dried hay,

Spewing deep hate so shocking.

 

Etched hastily on this pasty note,

“I dost not any love for you”,

‘Twas a verdict you wrote

My life into shambles it threw.

 

Was I a tawdry plaything?

An article of fleeting pleasures,

Cast into the alleys stinking

An object worthy for beggars.

 

Sweet words of fancy passions

Thy promises of endless ties,

Were they mere pretentions,

Thee uttered in our love nights?

 

In faith my soul I pledged,

Surrendered to your free will,

Your wish with grace I obeyed,

Yet to befall this ordeal.

 

For thee I shall though wait

Through the eternal realm of time,

Destiny cannot but join our fate,

‘Cause the heavens know you’re mine.

Argument

A series of mindless words

Or a string of illogical logic,

Creating a wrangle so garish,

And a situation so tragic!

 

It’s a nonsensical verbal combat,

Or a mind game, as they say,

Of twisted thoughts and ideas

Leading to a sense of disarray!

 

Opinions shared by one and all

Sweared in the name of democracy,

Creating mayhem – sane and intelligent though!

Dabbling in anger’s purple fancy.

 

Vulgar and convincing,

Tis a confession of highbrow impotence

Leaving nothing but an empty trail

A pitiful sight, a mere pittance.

Mellowness of the Dawn

The blessed sun of spring

Bloomed with mellow beauty

Evoking innocent feeling

Of love, peace and serenity.

 

As darkness bids fond adieu

To morning’s golden haze

Blue birds twittered notes a few

To usher this pristine phase.

 

Gentle breeze hugged the trees

And whispered secrets of life

As flowers in a bid to appease

Stood to greet the merry wife.

 

Sunken eyes that opened wide

Gazed with a dreamy guise

Unnerved of the wordly chide

Lost in a lover’s paradise.