Forever Sonnets (Poetry Blog)

AUTUMNAL WINGS Dry vintage red pressed to her lips, as another ephemeral summer night dissipates  over a horizon.  Autumnal dusk spreads her wings across an auburn meadow..  A sapphire moon floats up over cranberry fields inside a sky, emblazoned by twinkling lanterns. Tepid breeze plays with tiny goosebumps on slender arms & she shivers; tightens her  wool scarf. Crinkle of dead leaves underfoot, wilting as  fleeting summer dreams..  Wind gusts through chapters in an ancient novel; sepia pages, slightly worn from impatient fingers. The pungent smell of pine & cinnamon lingers in the blustery evening air. Drifting snapshots of an antique rocking chair, melodious creaking..  butterscotch kisses,  scent of cedar-wood & sweet rain.. holding a calloused warm hand, placing it on a cool cheek, smiling eyes. Floating backwards, gazing through a frosty window-pane.. A timid young girl playing with buttons, unlaced boots with mud on the soles.....

The English Girl She fell in love  At first sight With all her might That blonde naive english girl.. That slender lad That strode the nights That opened the days That robust greek firey boy.. Like the trees intertwined Like the Sun and Moon In every day they went along Cheering Cupid's name.. With wine and beer They dazzled their hours And every word made A third extra tongue The language of love To be the same... A new world With mountains and hills With a blue castle And a white church To communicate they did..  A blue lake With myriads of fish Pure and divine And the mystic dolphin That goes to and fro From Greece and Britain They did find... Oh, english girl Everything's a dream... With fountains and springs And autumn days A touch of winter In Aphrodite's arms.. English girl You've fallen in a trap Covered with blossoms And the kisses of Juda.. English girl I am so sorry for you You have to return  To your real difficult world.. And deeply l know You escaped from ...

. . The Harvest Poetry by Christina The setting sun dips, blushing,  Caresses the brown earth Fresh with its harvested corn stubble The creek flashed a golden shushed smile, As the yellow-star's rays invitingly played, Before falling deeper onto the harvest horizon. Dried stalks stripped of their bounty Sway in the chill of evening breeze, The wind follows the sun away, As the corn husk sing and sway... Ah sasha...Ah sasaha... sassaaa Ancient native ghost's chant. In harvest we prepare for the quiet inbetween, The plunge into darkness, Before the moon, Before the stirring of dark spirits rise,  Warm overturned soil sighs, Fog fills the abyss of the disappearing sun, Silent wisps of swirling curls rise, Leaving the smell of musky autumn As death and decomposition approach  In our rush to harvest all All the sun, and wind, and soil, and toil  Has rendered to feed us, To keep us bound and strong, Though inbetween the setting sun and the rising harvest moon  We rub...

The Festival of Sparkling Light Suhina Biswasmajumdar When the truth comes out of the choking darkness , Darkness of mind where ignorance reigns , Miracle happens  If with our earthly yearnings awake, Only then  With his wild smile new-moon celebrates  The dazzling diwali — Happily. --------------- Suhina Biswasmajumdar🍀 Is an inspiring writer and poetess  from Kolkata W.B  Her mystic poems're appearing on different social sites including facebook https://www.facebook.com/suhina.biswasmajumdar.9 🌸🌸🍀🌸🍀🌸🌸

Turn the page.... Is a beautiful poem composed by  Poetess 🌹 J U L I A  ----;;🌹🍀🌹🍀🌹 Here it's it 🙏 Poetess*  J U L I A - P E L L E G R I N I  can be reached on Facebook also at ------------- https://www.facebook.com/julia.pellegrini.75

A flower ----------- A foreign country engulfed her suddenly and seemed forever. In love,  she imagined herself as a flower that sprouted again in the spring-- Only on a different soil. a flower that can bloom even bette Than the previous time. because more shoots--- Tighter buds and thicker stems. Of course, A previous life gave her this feeling of firmness--- A memory filling her with juices that moved confidently to the bud,  Giving strength to bloom and hold even in a storm--- The new soil nourished roots with an unfamiliar  Mixture of new sensations and pushed branches to the sun--- The rain watered in a foreign land and awakened new hopes, new dreams.  Dewdrops on its petals reflected the new land--- Gradually becoming familiar and known.  Day after day,the present became yesterday---- She realized that she is a flower  though a flower of the tumbleweed.  At the next wind the roots weakened---- And the plant was blown away. She could not resist. ...

Life's Loitering Journey My heart weeps and smiles- -  When I do see the luna on bluish sky,  She didn't alter over these years- - Of merry of melancholy,  I saw she when I was a babe!  Counting the stars at my small balcony,  And I saw she; when I was a vierge- - Collecting petals of crocus quite happily Now I see her when I'm a woman- - Right away  living for the others,  A paltry mother, when I shall die- - She will still be there steadfast shining high Then she' ll  meet her amour on day of hue and cry, ----who am I

Ah, singing stream of life: flouting in my heart,  ----Every day and every night;  And running fast and slow,  ----Throu the shales;  And by the dipping-- trees ----Wonder It's, while you glaze, the fringing reef. That shoots in joy, with your sweet sounding,  -----The life, that walks on green grass will entreat!  Dear! spending stream of clean --caste,  -----Sometimes, you're giving so deep-crack's!  To our yet new, and hoary singing streets. -----With your surprise and with the--smiles,  Yes! you do empower---the poor it's true,  -----And making life's things; the entire new!  With your reliefs, the lonely flower leaps in joy,  ----And this poet Affaq! smiles;  When flitting throu the wandering clouds  -----Our moon, herself hides...

I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose  I went to the garden of brahma and saw The bhudha beneath an old oak counting sorrows- Of world, I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose-- I went to landscape of Mathura and saw shakthi And then heard the song of Shiva. And your aunty and her kins; all the happy. And then lost at young sea of loveliness-- I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose,  I fly over the top of Sinai; and saw the palm tree  Where Lord called on Moses, 'stay I bestows You the book, and stick, ashanti you got Me'  I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose,  I fly by sea to Nazarene's where the star raise  And glowed that landscape; and did impose  His reign far to East; where Son of Madina- Took the lead, by different routes,  And led his caravan to beyond the Cacucious. I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose  I am a child yet; shall fly more  contagious....

I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose  I went to the garden of brahma and saw The bhudha beneath an old oak counting sorrows- Of world, I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose-- I went to landscape of Mathura and saw shakthi And then heard the song of Shiva. And your aunty and her kins; all the happy. And then lost at young sea of loveliness-- I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose,  I fly over the top of Sinai; and saw the palm tree  Where Lord called on Moses, 'stay I bestows You the book, and stick, ashanti you got Me'  I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose,  I fly by sea to Nazarene's where the star raise  And glowed that landscape; and did impose  His reign far to East; where Son of Madina- Took the lead, by different routes,  And led his caravan to beyond the Cacucious. I am a nightiingale and I sing on rose  I am a child yet; shall fly more contagious....

And I believe you'll discover a sincere Man  Of your relish of wish and value Suzanne ! Darling, It matter not if he be a king or craftman. Just try on; his overall moral role and ability,  I believe you'll find a cute and mystical man. One who always from heinous-acts refrain,  And bless the king, I have heard this sound Who is capable to alter life's bustle for eternal gain,  Dearie, I believe you may discover that man,  Who would be not a slave of his own self. But may also realise other's suffer and pain,  And hopefully would bring forth a real change  I do behold! he will ever remain yours; like a sylph,  Sweet and pious, young careful and cerise... 🌸SIFTLOK

I could fell to one's feet.... I have four seasons: that pass by my life, And every man and woman; travels along these. Then they fell down as like a dry leaf. I have my comely spring; when senses strong,  All beauty comes in shape of relish and relief. Then summer, that fills my small boutique  By calm beauty, and by Morn,  I wake as an elite. In such luxury, I look upon others with eyes oblique,  Then autumn comes, with dry  cough;  I begin loose heat, struck dumb, like an alien fowl, Unable to compete; then winter  appears to fill his oath;  I forget fly over the blue seas-- A fear begins inwardly; that  I could fell to ones feet--- 🌸SIFOK

When month is summer and wind is cool,  Why ought not the senses amuse?  A vagrant fowl of summer pool,  Beating wings for bed enthuse,    Nearby a juvenile on her window pane,  Sings a boredom song,  The light in darkness fell, The night grew longer by the rain,  What trees what  What roof tops shall take his dwell, along Stars illumin depart from the royal bethel,  Young jasmine too sleep in her bouquet,  Night crock was nervous, hungry like lobo,  A vagrant fowl, beating wings fell,    On land and sad himsel!  Heartfelt juvenile felt his breast pain,  O! you red star!  I had years regret and grief, but not a relief, She opened her window light came swift  That point him his way upright to her bed,    And pearly eyed fowl of summer pool so sad,  Rendered thanks to her and felt glad.

How do Crows marry?  And host their wedding parties on roof,  Of archaic maple tree, so fairly  It's like their assembly hall and every- Rook at evening sits there to partake, Have you ever seen? how do Crows marry. To taste, to taste, to taste, this wine...... Do for me, buy for me, get a guy to marry Me. How do Crows prefer their pairs?  It's an amazing scene of action,  They sit in prayers, and share their tears ... Mine friend! have you ever been?  Towards a maple grove; after  weeding, They fly over skies for their honey moon... Over centuries, they hold this order it's so pleasing.  ---Tum tum, just come; among some  Maple groves, they come from different routes, Along the evening clouds, when Luna walks, And luscina seated on rose, flutes. And so forth, a mirth over the lunar orb  And the sky smiles; miles and miles... How do Crows marry;;have you ever seen? Latter, they would rush to maize fields,  Of poor peasant to punder...