(A Triple Tanka)


Full with Moonflowers,
She has a secret garden—
A knightly fragrance
Brings to my desires sweet trance—
And a mad, mad Sapience.

Her skin smells of grace
That fills the whole ambience
With elysian scents.
Her touch of virtue velvets
Make ev'n sins appear pure bliss.

A sublte rarity,
Her familiarity—
Brings a mirth quite strange—
Like she is of Divine Tribes—
She is, thus, heaven on Earth.

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Knightly Craving
(A Haiku Plus)

A coffee machine—
Knightly Moonshine as the wine—
And the whole night long,
For you I crave to just pine.

/Eve's Thought//

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(A Triple Cinquain)

Bookmarks
Are like brute braille
To the nakedness —stark
Of the word-porn with the finesse:
Madness!

In the
Realms of meanings,
We then seek a little
Mirth of sweeter illusions—by
Design.

We are
Just Back for more
To feel their full intrigue;
Or to be just out of the league
With them.

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Hope's Vulture
(A Haiku)

Hope was a vulture,
Killing valuable time—
Such a bad culture!


//Eve's Thought//

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Aborted Female Foetus's


(A Triple Tanka)

'Mother, I'm thy kind,
You had the right to my life,
Not to my death, Dear.
Kill me not —I'm your own blood' —
She might've said but abort'd.

'They've made my life hell,
Here all Adams again fell;
I won't let you suff'r;
We'll meet somewhere in Heaven'—
That is what she'd perhaps tell.

'O meaner Mankind!
You have creat'd a living hearth—
Commodifying
The Divinity on Earth'!
The Lord Himself might've said. 

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(A Double Tanka)

I often go nuts—
As active as a squirrel—
In vicious circles—
I move in full-fast spirals
My energy gets viral.

In a beastly breeze,
I surmount mountains with ease;
Busy as a bee,
Buzzing is my sweet disease,
Invictus for ev'r to be.

-

New Spring Rush
(A Haiku Plus)


And when flowers die —
Don't be ever sad —don't sigh,
I will be New Spring
In sly –by and by!

-

Election
(An Acrostic Tanka and Haiku)

Et tu, Brutus! Fie!
Lo! Whosoev'r is then chosen—
Each —sans omission—
Cunning will sure themselves prove;
To 'em all that does matter
In finality
Out and out is full sweet scam
Nothing else matters!.

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Purplex of

(In Triple Tanka)

Immortality
Is a divine proportion
That full breaks even
Forev'r and full Oblivion—
We can't see which is the One

Forever is but an art
That leaves traces so mable
On their beating heart
That they feel Infinity
In the moment's dart.

Immortality
Too has a color —Purple!
All the greys into
It just metamorphosise
After the brute bloodred mayhem.

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Peace Amidst Pieces
(Double R. Tankas and Double Tankas)

So perfect that I such prayed
She might somehow catch a flaw
Lest they cast a spell.
Aesthetics is too skinny
To cov'r perfidy

They that way more serve
That lose no tendons or nerve,
And just wait and watch—
See them err and do hotchpotch,
Despite 'em, no spite harbor.

Who could thy brilliance afford
As would prove themselves absurd—
Thus, thou art sidelined.
Thou art virtuous, valiant
With peace in pieces.

You're so delicate
That they'd themselves implicate
If they just half-praise.
It's beauty to be broken
Flaws be the whole truths' token.

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