bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com
Aphrodite's Apple: Panther's Bell
http://bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com/2010/08/panthers-bell.html
Tuesday, August 10, 2010. Moon peeps through the misty curls. Mysteries of the world unfurl. Darkness weeps in mirror rain,. Black paws tread the forest lanes. Fruit bats screech and soar in flight,. The ebony stalker prowls tonight. What can the predator's purpose be. For him to walk so temptingly? Is it the blood of new-born deer. Or the heady scent of her mother's fear? Is it hunger or is it lust that draws. The fearsome snarl and glinting claws? None but a distant tinkling bell. Satan smiles at fusin...
bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com
Aphrodite's Apple: Who Are You?
http://bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com/2010/06/who-are-you.html
Sunday, June 13, 2010. I look within me. For a patch of pain that isn't there. A nonexistent little spot. Which was, sometime back, a disease. That had afflicted my entire being. There are no shortcuts. Out of the quicksand. If so, then. Are you the sunshine that lights up the cobwebs. In the attic of my tower of stone. Perched precariously above a raging ocean? Or are you the wisp of ivory breath. On a moonlit january night. When i say hello. I think you are a handkerchief. When i am a part of everything.
bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com
Aphrodite's Apple: Splashes Of Cello
http://bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com/2010/04/in-walls-of-mazes-of-your-mind-colours.html
Saturday, April 17, 2010. Hummed by the cello. Issued from a violin. Red is the shade. You could have spilt. And black is nothing. Just like we all. By the muddy smell. I know the words for the shade that you see. As a host of evil butterflies. By the holy light. Labels: Splashes Of Cello. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). As An Afterthought On Bhoot Chaturdashi. Away On A Dream. Dimmed Lights Of Vegas. The Recollection Of An Eternal Vision On A Summer Afternoon. The Song Of The Bluejay.
bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com
Aphrodite's Apple: Robin Redbreast
http://bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com/2010/04/robin-redbreast.html
Tuesday, April 27, 2010. She was Madalena. Madalena, the young landlord's wife who had raven-black hair, glossier than that of the Countess. She brushed her curls gently, with the ivory-toothed comb and watched the flickering lamplight dancing in changing patterns on the road. She waited tonight, as she had waited every night for the last nine months. Yet, no one came. Where are you, Robin? How long must I live on this way? I named her Lilian, just as you wished. Much could be seen reflected in those two...
bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com
Aphrodite's Apple: The Recollection Of An Eternal Vision On A Summer Afternoon
http://bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com/2010/04/recollection-of-eternal-vision-on.html
Thursday, April 29, 2010. The Recollection Of An Eternal Vision On A Summer Afternoon. It was a day. As so me would say. Of sunshine after rain. When thoughts do flash. In trilling notes of pain. That said so much. And wormed its way within us. Did fight it out. We writhed like stony sinners. The man of stone. A god, alone. Webs of lust had woven. Opened doors to heaven. My blood and flesh. And knobs, enmeshed. Were pushed like lumps of metal. And plunged deep on their mettle. I could not cry. Wislawa Sz...
bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com
Aphrodite's Apple: Rainbow-Painters
http://bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com/2010/06/rainbow-painters.html
Sunday, June 13, 2010. I've seen you, glossy squares of rainbow paper. Hanging on the corridors of my toddling days. You've pulled me along on mindless capers. Into the depths of your meandering ways. Smoothened colours, like showers of sand. Monet's radiant brushstrokes set aflame. Gauguin wrought chaos without his hand. Yet no one knew the mad dutchman's game. In a wheatfield of netherland's plains. Furrowed strokes of grain turn gold in may. Dark cypresses of the mind insane. Away On A Dream.
bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com
Aphrodite's Apple: Batty Nights
http://bougainvilleadays.blogspot.com/2010/08/batty-nights.html
Tuesday, August 10, 2010. Sometimes, it is useless to wonder. Why bats play on the radio every purple night. Look at them rise in flight. Bats of every colour. Bringing news of Delhi to the Savannas. There goes Papa Bat,. His wide-rimmed spectacles askew. Off to his morning nap. Mama turns on the radio louder. Look what cousin Freddie has to say.". The sun loop-de-looping every day. On its unsuspecting orbit. I am tired of going around in circles '. The bat from Kentucky whispers. Away On A Dream.
