childhood, Fall, Flowers, forgotten, love, memories, monsoon, Philosophy, Photography, Pictures, rain, romance, tears, weather


The black darkness of the night,
Laughs gently at me in a roar unforgettable,
The mirth is shattered by its sudden transition,
And with the force of its unworldly design.

The night transcends between whiteness and blackness,
Each transience celebrated by silver brilliance,
The madness of its turmoil unforgettable.

In heavy lumps of tears,
Amidst a wail that is deep and penetrating,
The night begins to weep.

The wanderer looks from his shelter below,
His eyes peppered with the salts of time,
Does this night sing a paean in honor,
Is it the laughter of a madman,
Or the cries of a lost wanderer

Shimmering and glistening,
Screaming and whistling, The black darkness of the night,
Continued its laughter and still,
The night continued to weep…

Adventure, Birds, Branches, Existence, Flowers, Grass, Philisophy, Poem, Poetry, rain, Reality


Become like the call of the nightingale’s chirp,
Become like the roar of the elephant’s birth,
Become like the soul of the daylight break,
Become like the rustle of the tree stalk shake,
Become an existence that is larger than you,
Become an ideal of all that is true,
Become like the light that shines over all,
Become the voice that answers every call.
Become someone larger than pride and strife,
Throw out the verbal dagger and knife,
Become like a bouquet of roses and bloom,
Spread the fragrance of love and swoon,
Become like the smile of an infant child,
Become like the innocence of the beast in the wild,
Become like the serenity of the corpse deceased,
Become like the terror of the awaiting beast…
Flowers, Instagram, Photography, Pictures, Poetry, Trees

Skeletal Remains

Lay out the skeletal stems,
Of the flowers from this basket,
Lay them out one by one,
Each one a twig desiccated,
Each one a corpse awaiting a shroud.
The noxious aroma fiercely wafts still,
A mixture of life and death dances still,
A Mixture of want and memories remain,
Amidst the aroma of dreams regained.
Lay out the skeletal stems,
Of the relics of a forgotten past,
Wrapped around dead flower petals,
Like untold stories at a funeral mass,
Lay out the stories one by one,
Each one born in a different life,  
A wistful existence falls silent,
In these stillborn skeletal remains.

Autmn, Barrington, Flowers, Photography, Pictures, Poetry, Travel, Trees

Blurred Reality

The sights and sounds of all that we see,
exist in a hazy blur that cannot be.
The Vagrant blur clears just a little,
 in focus it becomes just a little,
 but yet these sights and sounds that we see,
Exist in a time and space that cannot be.

Of lamp posts and clock towers,
Standing tall over yellow flowers,
Dead branches and dead lakes,
White fenches and snowflakes,
The autumn wind announces,
The brick walkway dances,
In a blurred reality,
one that exists and yet cannot be,
These sights and sounds that we see.

Autumn, Fall, Flowers, Grass, Leaves, Nature, Photography, Pictures, Poetry

As I Wander

As I wander on this nameless street,
by the lake reflecting the invigorating sky,
 I gaze at the rustling leaf,
and the sounds of stream and breeze.

Like a dream that was not remembered,
but was never forgotten,
 I see visions of grass and the sun,
The sights seem familiar,
The air tastes of a memory,
Like the dew on morning windows,
Like the dead branches floating,
Like the numbness in fingertips,
Like the ghosts of memories.

As I wander this nameless street,
By the lake reflecting the invigorating sky,
stolen from the belgian’s dreams.
I gaze at the colors of autumn,
and the sounds of stream and breeze.