M Duncanson
By
Ittrika
Beloved’s Botanical Garden
Give me the book of your heart and botanical garden of your soul
Your ambrosial stories written on them, I wish to decode
You keep writing droplets of drugs and I will keep reading them all
To nurture that narrative plant, I will embed it behind my nectary fall
Yours is the only season, I wish to inscribe on my chastity
For my inflorescence, that is the only known path to divinity
In your stories, excavate my reticent motifs, talk to my longing root
Under the weedy grass, they are hibernating in earthen soot
Your long awaited leisurely poesy must visit my recently flourished batch
While I change from hues to hues, you recite your poems to my ripen leaves
and ever springing patch
If you read plainly for my green boughs riotous,
and leave amorous notes for my parched veins avaricious,
perhaps, my blossom will symbolically fling longer
Hidden birds in thicket of boughs will circulate pious pain,
for remains of foliage to learn to sing the songs of nester’s reign.
He Said
He said “come by the sky, at full moon light and in the kohl of night; with the ascendant fibres of moon…And forget not to lay crescents on the forest route…Just sow them once and they will grow enchanting scents from befriended favourite flowers of ours…That way, he can write his fragrance of love at Moonless Verse”
He said “come by the fire, at deep turmeric country site and in the chiming lips of bright; with the smudging painting of sun…And forget not to bring previous heaven’s all stars and their shimmer…Just sprinkle them once and they will lit up senses eternal…That way, he can write his sketch of love at Daydream Verse”
He said “come by the water, at one drop of nectar on monarch flower and lotus filled lake in the solitude garden…And forget not to fill the pitcher from the near by murmuring river…Just spill the potion of life on the way to holy shrine…That way, he can write his floating molecules of love at Barren Verse”
He said “come by the earth, at coarsely broken time and at moistened clay ready to take shape of a sculpture…And forget not to pick pieces of oasis from Eve and Adam’s yore; to conceal mirages, just weave artwork of fertile piece of purple culture…That way, he can write his aura of love at Petrichor Verse”
He said “come by his universe, at the beckoning laughter and at scent of a sigh to move the gloom and to hold the time patch in memoir room…And forget not to bring seasons; his Summers and my Monsoons; his Autumns and my Springs and set them free on his romantic novel…That way, he can write his everlasting love at Aphrodite Verse”
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