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  • maestral 19h

    Freezing December

    "December is beautiful isn't it?
    What would you say,
    if you ever meet December in person?"
    she asked
    looking at a distant blizzard
    sparking the horizon too far..

    December...
    The mercury is dropping
    Birds have flown on
    Rising from my Lazarus sleep
    To face what lies beyond
    But the freezing days of winter
    Have me in their grip
    The winds howling in the treetops
    Freeze my fingertips
    I walk through endless days
    Collar pulled up around my ears
    Staring at the shopfronts
    As the traffic soon disappears
    It seems as the sun is fading
    I think about the times
    There are people going nowhere
    Chasing dreams they'll never find.

    I still can see her smiling
    Clear as a summer's day
    It's easy to remember
    To remember her that way
    And the days are getting colder
    They drop without a sound
    Those freezing days of December
    Come around.

    Sitting silent by the fire
    As the flames crackle and burn
    I spend my time reflecting
    As the weather slowly turns
    Those freezing days of winter outside the door
    Her face now just an echo of what went before.

    The northern winter beckons
    Of seasons rich and poor
    Now she's gone and I may follow
    Where I've never been before
    She held me when I was lonely
    And warmed those coldest nights
    Those freezing days of December
    Now have me in their sights.

    I found her looking at me for an answer.. Did I phase out?

    "Probably nothing. Let's head back, it's getting cold"

    ©maestral

  • maestral 1d

    #oxymoron #miraquill

    Tower of Silence - A Tower on which Zoroastrians (Parsis) leave their dead to be devoured by vultures

    A fire temple or Dar-e Mehr is the place of worship for the followers of Zoroastrianism

    Azaan/Adhan - is the Islamic call to prayer, recited by a muadhin/muezzin at prescribed times of the day

    Read More

    East of Sunset

    it matters when it does not matter
    it matters that distances have no end
    that affection disorders find the soul
    but that the lapwing did not find her mate
    and the Blue grass hid the breeze
    under the lost sky

    pensive thoughts rose like incense
    in the temple round the corner
    of a one-way street
    the churchyard
    longer than the shadow
    of the Church of Reminiscences
    rolled over the horizon
    while the bells tolled once more

    the muezzin called in vain
    from a turret of a lost mosque
    and the flagstones in its courtyard
    echoed the azaan against the wall of silences
    that between the Fire Temple
    and the Tower of Silence
    there were just forty lost yards
    and a hope

    It matters that we spoke
    with each other last night
    without saying a word
    and that we looked for lost moments
    under the stones
    East of Sunset

    It matters that it did not matter
    when our ink washed out our poems
    in the lost pages of your diary
    it matters that no one read
    that last chapter of the Book of Life
    we had written on headstones
    over those who had never lived

    forgetting matters
    it matters not to have belonged
    to those who possessed us
    it matters that nothing matters
    and sleep is just a blanket
    under which to bury the night
    and it matters
    - and Oh how much it matters -
    that you and I always knew
    the ending of the tale
    even before we had written
    the Prologue
    in our Book
    under the Pipal Tree


    ©maestral

  • maestral 2d

    An Epigram is a "short, witty saying"

    Read More

    Time (Epigram)

    your mirror 
    takes away everything 
    you used to be


    ©maestral

  • maestral 2d

    Saqi can be translated to a female bartender in this case but it can also mean a lover.

    Rajveer is the man using a pen which has Maestral engraved on the nib.

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    Untitled

    the thirst to possess you has crossed all bounds
    now who cares what the world says!
    Left far behind is the caravan of tulips and roses
    now all I hear is the call of the tavern!
    the saqi's hand pours shimmering wine into goblets
    now it's moonlight's turn to be abashed!
    what's the secret Rajveer, you're drunk in abstinence
    what new wine glass do your lips desire?


    ©maestral

  • maestral 2d

    Nothing but her traces

    marks of her lipstick
    linger on the brim
    of an empty glass of Coke
    on the dining table of leftovers

    untidy heaps of plates
    stack up last life's repast
    and a fruit bowl is swarmed
    by fruit flies and honey bees

    her dancing shoe overturned
    under a pulled back chair
    her black Donna Karan
    hangs from a nail
    deserted by a fake Vermeer painting

    traces of her
    sprawled on the bedsheet
    in the wrinkles of the pillows
    her accents pushed into the mattress
    her Poison permeates the stale air
    of Life

    Life in which there are still
    nothing but her traces


    ©maestral

  • maestral 2d

    Kiss, Love, First

    Rapt.
    I am still.

    She enters my world,
    gracelessly pushing aside
    all of my words
    places her finger upon my lips.

    I am not me

    Intoxication excuses the artless
    stutter, swallowed,
    flutters against my heart,
    a moth bouncing against light.

    The kiss she leaves

    holds me on the precipice
    where I dare not breathe,
    my equilibrium disrupted.
    I know better.

    Her laughter spirals

    around and around.
    The sound rebounds.
    Overwhelmed, numb
    I am a statue.

    She kisses me once again

    Leaves me sure I will never again
    become so drunk on a moment,
    so unsure of how to respond
    another victim of beauty.


    ©maestral

  • maestral 3d

    Mercurial

    Lay me down asunder
    Coloured texture of sun
    Filled with oracle wonder
    And a life bought undone.

    Darkness gathered in folded skirts
    Tied in bouquets of forget-me-nots
    And blood stained, torn dirty shirts
    Abandoned cars in locked parking lots.

    Monochromatic silhouetted cityscape
    Shadows and cobwebbed alleyways
    Torn allegiances with no hope of escape
    And a God who is humbled and ashamed.

    And so she stares from her fears
    Eyes bleak as weathered stone
    Where the furrows of her tears
    Leave their mark upon her bones.

    So she pins hope upon the pages
    Where horoscopes and prophecies
    Promise a future that never ages
    And alibis with no genuine apologies.

    So the dance continues without ending
    As each one goes through their paces
    No give and take and never bending
    A flick of the wrist - reddened faces.

    So any act of kindness an anathema
    To a life that knows no better
    Every thing is black and white chatter
    And lived right down to the letter.

    So what are leftovers?
    Nothing better than scraps
    And twisted up bed covers
    Surely she's worth more than that.

    So the life she shared in silence
    Became dulled with all the pain
    So often tinged with violence
    Contrite and controlling the same.

    Another morning peeks above the covers
    And feelings lethargic now an empty vessel
    Where she once dreamed of a gentle lover
    Crushed beneath the hopelessness she wrestles.

    So now what is it she can do?
    To muster up a little control
    And save what little self respect to
    Hold together body and soul.

    For the truth is often hard to swallow
    When the life she lived so filled with strife
    Watching as her mother had to wallow
    In an exact copy of her own life.

    So often the case when leading by example
    A vicious circle spinning in a fiery arc
    Leaving sorrow and hatred for her to sample
    Each a mirror of the other's hollow heart.

    Lay me down asunder
    Beneath a textured sun
    Filled with shadows now plundered
    And a life bought undone.


    ©maestral

  • maestral 3d

    Aurora Borealis

    is it that the Northern Sky
    is iridescent with sporadic flames
    of cold passion

    or is it that witches brew
    you gave me
    and now the whole world burns

    perhaps it is just an illusion
    all that you ever were

    for all through those nights of mine
    I saw visions
    of aurora borealis
    on my ceiling full of glowworms
    in an open field of wheat
    in whose horizon-less vast darkness
    I lay down to see your stars


    ©maestral

  • maestral 3d

    Progress = Pro + Gradi = Walk + Forward

    Is it really?

    This does not fully comply with the prompt but then I don't have much idea about etymology and semantics

    It is the equivalent of me asking @Miraquill to write something using the dependency of Barbero–Immirzi parameter γ on Loop Quantum Gravity inside the Swarzschild Radius of a Black Hole having constant distortion of Angular Momentum due to loss in Entropy.
    Feel me Miraquill?

    #meaning #miraquill

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    Progress

    Stars shining down at night -
    shine on the same realities
    we avert our eyes from
    the hapless women - cowering from
    the beatings by drunken husbands
    the continual abuse of children
    drug bingeing
    Progress? Perhaps
    We now own electric cars and iPhones...!


    ©maestral

  • maestral 4d

    Archangel

    Paper moons gather no
    light, while meager people
    turn the pages of forgotten
    scribes who once boasted a
    man greater than we.

    So shall I flex my frugal wings,
    stretch this span of darkened
    splendor. For there are no
    second chances afforded those
    without faith or the grace
    granted us to fly.


    ©maestral