Autumn

Autumn

Lost in a storm of amber leaves, I waste
the last drop of summer to save a whisper
from the climbing roses you laid out for me,
to hold their ruby glow with the risk to blind me.

No butterflies, no blossoms stay behind to see me cry
together with the inevitable mist of clouds.
Over drowned solstice fires, I harvest the seeds of grief,
your face grows dim, consumed by the revenge of Nature.

I wake up, naked, in a naked forest, hazel shadows
sword your message through the wind. And the skies,
a pallet floating in gruesome hue and saturation,

remind me of roads never traveled,
of lands never swept by innocent laughter,
of broken hearts that declare the debut of Autumn.

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“Leaves and memories” by Sonam Mandal

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© 2012  Broken Sparkles

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Where love was first born …

Where love was first born ..

It was one of those starless nights
when the lack of hope left me counting
waves on an imaginary bay in Bengal.

No goldfish could lead the way
to the phosphorescence of the dawn,
no drops or breeze could twist the claws
of the Coral trees, infinite silence.

It was the tide that spoke first
through long lost, jade bottles,
when shadows of lust sat near by,
to warn me, that the colors of my dress
will never match the desire in his eyes.

The sky stunk of loneliness,
of invisible hearts and grieve, and
the thought of couples walking on a beach in Goa
was the only painless flashback left.

It was a night in a loveless universe
where in between whirlpools and teal wind,
crippled from the eclipse demons,
lost the battle with the indigo veils of the sea
and the promise of the coming morning
no longer had the taste of sorrow.

The after- dusk clouds, the mermaids,
the ghosts of shipwrecks skipped the sunrise
because once the light triumphed over
the satin sand, I saw the footsteps,
blazing a trail to the edge of sweet madness,
where love was first born.

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“Where love was first born” by Sonam Mandal

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© 2012  Broken Sparkles

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What if … ?

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What if …?

What if the flow of unpredictable words you adore
and wait with impatience to hear,
because it comes with the language of my heart,
with the alphabet of my existence,
what if this continuous flow one day stops
and I have no more beautiful things to tell you,
no more stories of miracles to share with you?

Will you go to the first bookstore and replace my fairy tales
with a novel randomly chosen from the first bookshelf you saw?
Or will you try to find new inspiration to touch my lips with,
so I could speak to you again?

What if the brilliance, the enigma in my eyes
that you always wonder how to explain,
because it comes from a world of mystery,
from a land not mentioned in any geographic maps,
what if this secret of my look one day is gone
and I have no more potential to see you as someone special,
no more effort left to look at you with love?

Will you forget the color of my eyes and discover
new eyes to look at, in the crowd of people ahead of you?
Or will you make me see the different, non-existing side of you
and make me love you even more because of it?

What if the temptation that comes out of my body
and you put on pedestal with a triumph, ignoring our weak powers,
glorifying the first time you owned me,
what if this allurement, together with my body,
one day turns into ashes and I have no more feelings to offer,
not even a single act of care?

Will you accept the dry lust from a woman-stranger you will
accidentally meet in a bar, drunk, because you no longer have me?
Or will you read all scientific books to learn new ways to wake up
the volcano of hidden passion, buried deep inside of my body?

What if my heart that is the center of our lives,
both, mine and yours, because is connected to your heart
like a mom and a baby with an umbilical cord,
what if this heart one day choose to take a different path
and I have no more stability to comfort you with,
no more hopes and dreams to go after?

Will you stop hoping and dreaming too and take the road
to nowhere so you could forget about the memories of me?
Or will you collect in a silver jar
two drops of rain, piece of sunshine and a snowflake
and give them to an African magician to create
a new heart I can love you with again?

What if in just one day what we thought is good for us
suddenly appears not to be?
Will you surrender and accept the waste of tune with silence,
like many others did?
Or will you still stand by me and climb mountains, swim oceans,
make the impossible possible to bring it all back ?

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“What if …?” by Blaga Todorova

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© 2011  Broken Sparkles

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