Inside a creepy corridor, a painter wanders with a blank canvas and weird dreamers. Latticed windows mystify missing space across their passage, veiled panorama hails with grace. Merged canvas harmonizes unblemished portal and conscious sketch rocks on swinging cradle, wanderer visualizes about unleashed mission where unflagging dreams perceive embodied impression. The courtyard of reflective imagination extends the horizon of sketch’s foundation, in course of time the dreamers assemble at the entrance of the clandestine chamber with painter’s maiden appearance. The transparent sketch casts the characters in black and white focusing the dreamers’ whispers, the painter transplants the anonymous dream on the crest of the ...
Read Full Story
The race We stand here in a line, must be fifty or sixty sunshine’s, and the air it flares with our life, and ground is hard and there is no green, and then the whistle blows slow, and the stampede begins. I think I’ll sit at the back, and find my way through slow, and then I will attack, a springy step at the pack pack. My breath is strong and my rhythm fine, I bound alone in good time, and climb the cattle bridge up, and jump down hard and bang my feet, and then I turn into the field pause, and begin ...
Read Full Story
that night under cotton-candy clouds, chain-link shutters behind secure doors and windows chased by their own feeling… with rag around me covered in muddy prints I get up to explore the images on the windowpanes struggling to find vacant space… a thin strip of dream involving freedom’s wings and perhaps other shadows trying to find the soil underneath…
Read Full Story
Waltzing together with our embraced arms in the courtyard of our own ecstatic realm, we listen to the symphony of fervent love which only reverberates our aroused yearning. It reminds us only the timeless tales of enchanted couples drenched in their midsummer night’s dream, while we are immersed feverishly in close-lipped exchange of our wild passion. Both of us get soaked in the radiating moonbeam in the night of amorous spring.
Read Full Story
Sitting beside you I am crowned with the tunes of roaring love. Melody of unrevealed virginity reverberates in the heart of turbulent ocean of my passionate desire. You said, ” I am not sure.” While wearing the necklace of adorned passion with fragrance of first blush, love strings both of us on our awakened desire. You said, “Please! Not now!” When you unravel yourself with flowing symphony of husky moanings, love floats within you and me making whines of ultimate desire. You said, “Crush me in your heart!” While unveiling yourself you closed your eyes, listening to my whisper, “You are Mistress of my ...
Read Full Story
