Posted in OTHER POEMS

FENCE OF DESIRES

How the tiny eyes do crack

In to widening smiles 

Like the flapping butterflies

In search of filaments to suck dry

Do dumbfound the horizons

A ghostly figure that makes it dawns and dusks

Her melody and florescence

Are spontaneous and bold 

The  anguish lays in what results 

The sweet and flowery whispers 

Of affections would wrought

He lays fastened to that rough fence

Having tedious options

Be bold!Have more or lose everything!

Or stay fragile,have little and die with wrangling desires
But the lion heart would die to live
©

SPERALE

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Posted in ROMANTIC POEMS

IN YOU DO I AXE MY TOILS FOR SELLY TREASURES

Your beam is so much 

Than my eyes could bear

They radiate hope and joy

So much in excess!

I live and relive every moment

So that my ointment of contracted joy 

Wouldn’t dry off 

When I calmly succumb to the cold hands 

I look to the dusty north 

And the wild ages of the Tudors 

But a love of this nature, I couldn’t find 

In your eyes do I find my reliefs 

In your warm embrace do I find true peace

In your love do I find no conditions

In you do I axe my toils for selly treasures
©

SPERALE

Posted in OTHER POEMS

SHALLOW PROMISES


The words are sweet and minty 

Soothing and transitory panacea to many heartaches

They flow like the fireflies

But they are crippling hemlocks to many breaths

Their beauties lie in construct 

But their bloopers lie in execution and effects 

Shallow are promises that are well said than done
©

SPERALE

Posted in ROMANTIC POEMS

MUSES FOR A LOVE TRUE

By Jove,let me your abode dwell 

That our love would be forever young

Like the coulee,it would know no sagging


And though we would like the flurry beavers

Know inescapable decline in time

Our strengths would wane

And our beauty would someday diminutivize 


But our hearts would forever beat alike in love

If I truly lie in the meadows which your heart

And you water the roses which is my love


Our love would echo even in death

And bards would muse after us 

And we would etch our love to sempiternal sands
©

SPERALE

Posted in NATURE POEMS

IF CREEKS HAD DIVANS


If creeks had divans

We would on it gently lay

Feeling the soaky sands

Scour our friable fleshes

As we far hem in to the delights

Of the natural

The flow of the tides enthrall

The little voyagers in their swimming things

They gaped,they danced,they laughed,they had peace.

We would make bonfires

As the taleful winds 

Crack,crack and crack unceasingly!

Pouring endless tales in to  chalices

And the lads swig,swig and swig!

We would hear the Scottish 

How Macduff 

The thewy thane of Fife

Severed the obstinate head of Glamis 

We would hear the Italians

How genuine affections became

The spade that dug two graves

We would have thousands of doting memories

In just a passing moment 

Of the indelible blossoms of nature

©

SPERALE

Posted in FICTIONS

THE DARK HOUR SCIENTIST


Craig told him to buy a jack knife,to add up to the vanishing cutleries in the house.No one could fathom how they had vanished.
The past few days had been the express definition of weird,lots of inexplicable happenings,ones that couldn’t be accounted for,just two days back,Jughead,the little puppy of the Jackinson household had gone missing,till now he still remained lost and unfound.
The last time anyone had seen Jughead was December 24th,the day before Christmas.And to the bemusement of all,most of the inhabitants of the Jackinson household had not gone out that fateful day,infact it was confirmed that the doors were opened only twice that day.
First,was when Sterling,the papa of the house had gone out with Lydia,the last sired child of the house,fourteen by age,fair as a crispy apple,a bit diastema,and too big and matured looking for a girl of approximately fourteen.
They had gone to buy provisions for the festive celebration.
The second time was when they came back home late,it was at 10:00pm.They went along to give unending rants as to why they walked the dark hours.But no one seemed to care.They were back home that was all that mattered.
The search for Jughead was a dead end.One that later disinterested the Jackinsons from further making attempts.Jughead was a dear,friendly and smart puppy.But no one knew where he was or whether he was dead,maybe he had been mowed over by a passing vehicle.No one knew.
Few hours had lapsed.It was already midnight.The moon shone with rare tensity.Rare in the sense that it was ready to burn the retinas out if one gazed directly at it.Gayle had just woken up to empty her unwanted body fluids,she was so disturbed,her looks could only denote that she had survived a nasty nightmare,her eyes were unnecessarily puffy and her nightwears were excessively rumpled,folded beyond the normal,she was wet all over,thick liquid substances hung between her legs and on her face.
She used the lavatory,felt a bit relieved and made to her room when she heard a shrieking sound.S he could not really process what she had heard.Whether it was the town ritualists doing the habitual,slaying animals again, in the guise of worshipping and sacrificing to a white rock that couldn’t even talk,it couldn’t be,she thought,the month was already ending,they did most of their craps when the months began.
“Cuokokjaanjaj”
The shrieks sounded again,only that this time,it was louder and more weird.She traced where the shrieks had emanated from.It was the backyard.She slowly tiptoed to check out the source of the uproar.
“Crack”
She heard a snap.What was happening?She thought.Was someone being killed at the backyard? Wouldn’t she end up another inquisitional fatality?She thought
Her fears ascended her throat like the throaty spittles,only that she couldn’t spit them out,they were convulsing her body.Her palms were cold,itchy and uncomfortable.
She finally took a bold step,least expected of a teenager that had spent forever doting on her own body.She opened the door.Climbed down the stairway,she saw blood flowing on the grounds like a writhing cobra,stretched unendingly,pool of blood.
Her mouth was open in terror and a single vein in her body could not twitch.Words utterly failed her.She hadn’t seen this much of blood.
She made back for the stairway to ascend back to the door,when she realized she was locked outside,a major flaw of the door was it’s unstable functioning.Locking itself on incomers was one of its many crazy specialities.
What was going to happen now? Whatever had spilled that blood was still out there, she thought.
She heard a ruffle in the bush,and the bushes were being ripped apart by a ghostly figure.She fretted and was stationed to the spot.
When she realized it was Louka,her own younger brother,covered in thick blood and feathers,reeking of rosebushes,and to his right hand were several dissecting tools improperly pawed together.And to his left hand was what appeared be a dead fowl,that had been unskillfully cut open.
“What have you done?”

Just some science and school practicals,he tottered
“Oh!”,she gaped with terror
“Did you kill Jughead?”,
He hesitated for a moment
“Yes!I did”
“I cut him and i ate him”
“But when did you start eating puppies”

She couldn’t contain the aghastness.

“I’m telling dad!You are reaching new heights in your derangement”

“It’s understandable that your weirdness can’t be understood.But this!This is crazy!she snapped.

“Okay!Do what you will!”

“I’m busy here!”

“Let me finish my works here”

“I hope the vigilante people don’t make an example out of you,of what befalls deviants!You are brilliant! But you shouldn’t indulge in savagery and put you put your safety on the line You don’t need this!”

She violently turned the door knob,it burst open.She stormed inside.
©

SPERALE

Posted in OTHER POEMS

LET IT GO

Many rouses glide the paths

And in many forms are they bewrayed 

In heart rending taunts

And pathetic desires to belittle the worth 

In attempts to make the self feel better

Should we blind an eye for another eye?

And be the monsters we so much abhor

Letting go of mere trivialities

Is what makes the faeries dazzle unendingly 

Uphoist the flag of quietness

In the face of unnecessary  rancors

And the vessel becomes an entity of betterment

Ready to sail the sea of progression without toppling over
©

SPERALE