the embers
danced just for me

who knew a
dying thing

could be so
beautiful

The Volume of Her Tones

The volume of
Her tones
Create a creakiest
Voice at the night...

Ocean of her smile
Wakes a slumber
Of her absences.
Ringing tones spread
amidst choruses
and crowded rim:
The conflagration of rhymes.

The melody in her voice
Like a heavenly voice
In a hushed cathedral
The rain drops one by one;
And some people flies outside
To see the flowing of her dulcet
Counting a cracks by the said rain.

The grave that changes trajectory
Lives in the grey!
The state is neonatal and aged
In an empty growth!

Adam garko


Dedicated to her surpass ******* earth❤

Grace chose the poise of your
neck, what spring learned from
winter in white homage.
You longingly capture, and look
back at fate...your delicate head
sent slowly down upon its
pillowy body.
White, whited out...water clear
as invisible.
I dearly depart, I dearly arrive at
what dream settles upon you.
I loved you so much as you slept,
O swan, O Saraswati~

No such beauty
           longer dwells
         under the guise
      of flesh and bones,
           in the garden
      of a sullied heart

           fallow heart
     barren and longing                                                  .
      ­  time built walls
      an unfillable void
           burdens tall,
      beggared of light
        befallen within

  a devolving moment
so many flowers wither
       left in a broken
         heart of gold
          
    a gardener knows
        sweetest soils
     of love and light,
     without sunshine
              sour
    as unripened fruit

     memories fading
          as if florae
    never blossomed
        perpetuating
     wholly starving,
    unweedable roots
            too deep,
  rupture when pulled

        a **** let be
            beauty

   unfertile seeds sown
       where nothing
        longer grows
    in an uninhabited
             silence

raging unseen within
  the fires of the ages
still smoldering inside,
   mingled with hope  
        left for dead

hidden in the shadows
an engulfing stone cold,
handwriting on the wall
of silence growing taller

Enchanted by spring’s
rustling whispers
     ... whistles swirl
in the pungent springtime breeze;
steeped with a bedazzling
        cadence
   heart dancing
to a hummingbird’s
         whirs

   waves of breath,
of little wings waft,
whooshing throughout
twining honeysuckle lattice
       a
tiny manger
beset of hidden gold
precious speckled eggs, 
silver lining of smallest hopes
   fruits of fruition
   continuum beheld prize,
concealed in interwoven rootlets;
   
potently perfumed flowers
       while away
the waning dark hours;
swollen full flower moon
           waxing yellow,..
         heavenly fragrance
sweetly-scented suckled nectar
  
the one with eyes of a child,
   wonder ― hidden inside,  
   marvel in the light of grateful eyes
imbibing an unholdable moment's
    spellbinding elixir 
    ... poetry alive

air  so poignantly perfumed
       with blossom
        moonstruck
by spring’s frolicking cadency
a reverent moment's
edifying intoxication

       a sobering beauty that just is...



someone ... May 2017

The mask I wear is but this skin of mine,
They find it unbelievable to have this much shine,

Is it through a fault of mine,
one can't assume to see the shine?

Or are we so weary,
to see ambivalence behind every disguise?

Each day I am closer to escaping you
closer to forgetting you
but each night I am reminded of who I remember you to be
closer to missing you
I close my eyes and you are next to me, again
holding my hand, again
closer to needing you
you visit me in my dreams and virtual reality
closer to forgiving you
I want to be closer to you