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cynosure

Of every fluttering thought. Thursday, May 8, 2008. The roses on your palm. Feel like painted figurines. Draping from your veins. So blue with hopes crusted over. I’m waiting for the dream light. Or freeze like tangible ice-lollies. To lick or glide between my lips,. While a song is sung. Between you and me. So beautiful, this life. Between you and me. Those canvases you draw on,. How do they absorb the sense. Better than I,. Breathing at the touch of. The rolling colour, creates. Like streams of light.

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cynosure | crimsondreamsinpink.blogspot.com Reviews

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Of every fluttering thought. Thursday, May 8, 2008. The roses on your palm. Feel like painted figurines. Draping from your veins. So blue with hopes crusted over. I’m waiting for the dream light. Or freeze like tangible ice-lollies. To lick or glide between my lips,. While a song is sung. Between you and me. So beautiful, this life. Between you and me. Those canvases you draw on,. How do they absorb the sense. Better than I,. Breathing at the touch of. The rolling colour, creates. Like streams of light.

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1 skip to main

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3 cynosure

4 to melt them

5 posted by

6 pritha

7 5 comments

8 to my painter

9 so vaguely transparent

10 of your hand

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skip to main,skip to sidebar,cynosure,to melt them,posted by,pritha,5 comments,to my painter,so vaguely transparent,of your hand,your palm lines,pathways,you never imagined,brows,on festive nights,no comments,caressing the,1 comment,summer and winter,brea

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cynosure | crimsondreamsinpink.blogspot.com Reviews

https://crimsondreamsinpink.blogspot.com

Of every fluttering thought. Thursday, May 8, 2008. The roses on your palm. Feel like painted figurines. Draping from your veins. So blue with hopes crusted over. I’m waiting for the dream light. Or freeze like tangible ice-lollies. To lick or glide between my lips,. While a song is sung. Between you and me. So beautiful, this life. Between you and me. Those canvases you draw on,. How do they absorb the sense. Better than I,. Breathing at the touch of. The rolling colour, creates. Like streams of light.

INTERNAL PAGES

crimsondreamsinpink.blogspot.com

1

cynosure: VICTORY

http://www.crimsondreamsinpink.blogspot.com/2008/03/victory-i-am-dirty-like-rag-dipped-in.html

Of every fluttering thought. Monday, March 24, 2008. Like a rag dipped in green turpentine. Full of bottled dreams. Neglected, the pins lie scattered all over my floor. But you lie just across. Casting your fiery hair over the jangle of clutter. Till, I am swamped by your scent, as strong as an animal. Twisting my muscles in pain. Hated one, my enemy, my fantasy. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Live a little more. View my complete profile.

2

cynosure

http://www.crimsondreamsinpink.blogspot.com/2008/05/roses-on-your-palm-feel-like-painted.html

Of every fluttering thought. Thursday, May 8, 2008. The roses on your palm. Feel like painted figurines. Draping from your veins. So blue with hopes crusted over. I’m waiting for the dream light. Or freeze like tangible ice-lollies. To lick or glide between my lips,. While a song is sung. Between you and me. So beautiful, this life. Between you and me. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator. July 4, 2008 at 3:19 PM. So beautiful, this poem. March 27, 2009 at 12:37 AM. That is so lolita.

3

cynosure

http://www.crimsondreamsinpink.blogspot.com/2008/02/1.html

Of every fluttering thought. Sunday, February 10, 2008. Neat tombs stand arrayed,. And shun us away. In the lines of her eyes,. They deepen the lust. Unsaid, undreamt of. Replete with exhaustion,. The days carve on,. Like stitches through our destinies:-. In the streams flooding. Cast between apprehensions,. I am often left. Like a quotation,. Hanging from nowhere, really—. Ostentatious thought muffles me,. In paradigms de rigueur,. And clutches tight at my waistband,. Topsy turvy, elsewhere naught,.

4

cynosure: March 2008

http://www.crimsondreamsinpink.blogspot.com/2008_03_01_archive.html

Of every fluttering thought. Monday, March 24, 2008. Fearful, she opens her eyes. To pass her by. At the tune of a finger plucking time. I raise my face. All I find is himself. And me,in his scarlet eyes. I want to close me eyes. Like a rag dipped in green turpentine. Full of bottled dreams. Neglected, the pins lie scattered all over my floor. But you lie just across. Casting your fiery hair over the jangle of clutter. Till, I am swamped by your scent, as strong as an animal. Twisting my muscles in pain.

5

cynosure: Summer and Winter

http://www.crimsondreamsinpink.blogspot.com/2008/05/summer-and-winter.html

Of every fluttering thought. Thursday, May 8, 2008. The bubbles pop and dance. Like rainbows against the summer sky—. Stunned, you watch. As though you exist. H the bare trees would flower soon,. I would pluck the blossoms. And place them on your cheeks,. Watch you blush…. Merge and expand—. Thing , on a dark winter night. Mornings quiver with excitement,. Like fresh napkins hung out to dry. In the cold January breeze. Seizing a clump of wet earth,. I watched her regain her. For the grimy , the sodden,.

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heartbeats

http://powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com/2008/05/decipher-me-like-april-breeze-so-non.html

Thursday, May 08, 2008. Decipher me like an April breeze,. So non-existent, that I can weep. For a flutter of an eyelash, or a heart. In acres of lacquer. Those grief driven eyes—transient with woe:. How shall I cast myself about you? Crimson Dreams in Pink. Pensieve I dreamt of you one autumn night. I know no other except you In the str. Strongly discordant the nemesis arrives incohere. Decipher me like an April breeze, So non-existent. View my complete profile.

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heartbeats: July 2006

http://powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html

Thursday, July 20, 2006. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Crimson Dreams in Pink. View my complete profile.

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heartbeats: August 2007

http://powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html

Sunday, August 19, 2007. Is really a jangled. Perhaps also a silver thread…. Of heartbeats and the. Wringing of hands,. And foreheads and palms. When you touch my skin,. Do you hear the murmurings of. I hear you labouring. Concept of me—. With an aura—. Of a smile—. Is an art in itself,. Smooth scented pinheads,. Sharp against the trope of foreheads,. My nails painting your skin—. In a ramble of vermilions. I hear the envy of. Who have inhabited and mortgaged,. And every feeling,. In a lie in a truth,.

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heartbeats: March 2008

http://powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com/2008_03_01_archive.html

Monday, March 24, 2008. Plunge me into a free fall. The world swirls by. And I stream past myself. In my many moods. When I crash, there shall be nothing. But a paper envelope. Flat out on a piece of earth. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Crimson Dreams in Pink. FREE FALL wanton memories plunge me into a f. View my complete profile.

powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com

heartbeats

http://powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com/2006/07/hello.html

Thursday, July 20, 2006. Crimson Dreams in Pink. View my complete profile.

powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com

heartbeats

http://powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com/2007/08/rage-every-obsessed-thought-is-really.html

Sunday, August 19, 2007. Is really a jangled. Perhaps also a silver thread…. Of heartbeats and the. Wringing of hands,. And foreheads and palms. When you touch my skin,. Do you hear the murmurings of. I hear you labouring. Concept of me—. With an aura—. Of a smile—. Is an art in itself,. Smooth scented pinheads,. Sharp against the trope of foreheads,. My nails painting your skin—. In a ramble of vermilions. I hear the envy of. Who have inhabited and mortgaged,. And every feeling,. In a lie in a truth,.

powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com

heartbeats: May 2008

http://powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com/2008_05_01_archive.html

Thursday, May 08, 2008. I dreamt of you. The stars etched as on stone. With its soft feet. Sinking, through the grass,. The steep sun unkind. Er near, ever—. Maybe you’ll find me. On a rock,. I know no other. In the streams of beauty that surround me. And the clock striking new time—. A minute passed,. I thought of you. Incoherent, unknown—. Must I think of you. As a paean of beauty. Since I carve you in. Decipher me like an April breeze,. So non-existent, that I can weep. In acres of lacquer.

powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com

heartbeats

http://powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com/2008/03/free-fall-wanton-memories-plunge-me_24.html

Monday, March 24, 2008. Plunge me into a free fall. The world swirls by. And I stream past myself. In my many moods. When I crash, there shall be nothing. But a paper envelope. Flat out on a piece of earth. Crimson Dreams in Pink. FREE FALL wanton memories plunge me into a f. View my complete profile.

powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com

heartbeats

http://powderpinkpritz.blogspot.com/2006/08/blog-post.html

Wednesday, August 16, 2006. Cross-stitched on the verandah wall,. Sleep stills the heavy air, i pause to breathe-. And the memories come back,. They fill my soul with dreams. And love becomes a Vision. Of past-perfects and future continuous. The present is lost to daydreamings. Crimson Dreams in Pink. Cross-stitched on the verandah wall, sunshine. View my complete profile.

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cynosure

Of every fluttering thought. Thursday, May 8, 2008. The roses on your palm. Feel like painted figurines. Draping from your veins. So blue with hopes crusted over. I’m waiting for the dream light. Or freeze like tangible ice-lollies. To lick or glide between my lips,. While a song is sung. Between you and me. So beautiful, this life. Between you and me. Those canvases you draw on,. How do they absorb the sense. Better than I,. Breathing at the touch of. The rolling colour, creates. Like streams of light.

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