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Scythed Desires

eerie silence swathes empty folds
whirls forlorn heart to sonic olds,
wilted Jasmine on a moonless night
beholds the stars in fading twilight,

chisel monsoons a benumbed sapphire
misty forebodings scythed her desire,
chilly breeze echoes vows concocted
plays a requiem for lovers parted,

forbearance I hold in thistled palms
holy incense no more my dolor calms,
solitaire dreams lie in broken urns
on a forbidding winter a soul smoulders and burns…

© laughing_soul
Gitanjali Kapoor

September Song

September in my city an onset of festivity,
holler streets richly dressed in floral weaves
“dum-da-dee-dum-dee”

soaked in dewdrops honey with aroma of desi sweets,
warmth and fervour carry wings of the sea-breeze
September in my city a musical “dum-da-dee-dum-dee”

the last kiss of monsoon showers
intoxicate the earthy bowers
sway sprightly pretty daisies
to the song “dum-da-dee-dum-dee”

September in my city
skies thunder sonorous laughters
ambles along autumn in mirthful murmurs,
bedew the harvest moon foliage of russet leaves
stirs a season in heartful of
“dum-da-dee-dum-dees”

September in my city a rustic poetry..
© laughing_soul
Gitanjali Kapoor



Bombay (a Ghazal Poem)

Barefoot at twilight I walk the shores of Bombay,
balmy breeze sings me folklores of Bombay;

I watch Kolis drink and mend their nets at eve,
toes curl’d soaking in the cores of Bombay;

Smell of dried Bombil not a welcome to many,
yet foodies flock the eatery doors of Bombay;

Humid and sultry is the climate coastal,
Monsoons bring alive the shores of Bombay;

Night falls never on the skylines here,
though beggars lounge on the floors of Bombay;

Ganesh Chaturthi celebrated by one and all,
time when exotic flowers adorn the stores of Bombay;

A hub for dreamers who wish to touch the stars,
Bollywood welcomes all to the moors of Bombay;

Geet you being a Punjabi speak Marathi so fluent,
I tell them, come live with me few days on shores of Bombay.

©Laughing_soul
Gitanjali Kapoor

Notes :
Qaafiya (rhyming) : Shores
Radeef (refrain) : of Bombay

The Raven with a Flute..

Have you heard the story

of a Raven

who flutes a song on midnight eerie..

notes shall bleed horror

of Darkness creepy

as unfolds this story dreary..

A serial killer was he,

his bait,

girls who quilled witty poetry..

She was the one he was prying

she who’s words

were dark and mystifying..

came the night of the final call

he followed her through the thickets

played along shadows of the full Moon of Fall…

was it him sneaking on her

or was she luring him to his grave..?

Oh to know what befell you better be brave..

On the night dreary

a raven flutes a song,

he turns to shoo it away

and Lo! in a flicker she is gone..

a thin veil of mist

enshrouds the darkness,

a silhouette not so far

sways in the chilly nakedness..

he brings out his dagger

walking softly he moves closer..

a queer wetness he feels on his palm

his dagger he sees bleeding

shrieks the killer and drops it down..

it falls ripping the heart of the rusted soil,

deep into an abyss

which appeared like a serpent coil..

chilly cold winds grip his brow

like a frosted wreath,

yet curious was he to see

what lies beneath the foliage of leaves..

a diabolical tempest

echoes his death note..

Doth he dare look into the abyss?

“a killer fears none”

morbid gales whistle a quote..

spells break free

on a midnight eerie..

ebony feathers swirl in a circle

and she in the centre playing a flute,

a flute made of skulls

with one missing in the end..

she lured him to the grave

to complete her music

but beware this is just the beginning

and not the end…

©Laughing_soul