Spring now knocks the door 

As March leads forth across the leas 

How pleasing  the colour and scent of the wisteria

In broad daylight, they lift up their golden blossom to the sky 

Like a cherry blossom tree gets blended with the fresh breath of air 

The melodic spring whispers from the vale 

Of sunshine and of flowers 

Amid the aroma of romance 

I hear a wandering voice of cuckoo like a flute

And the wind is carrying it horizontally and vertically 

Flowing freely in a wild direction like a breath strikes the narrow edge

Passes like a music through my soul

Echoing in each and every corner 

From hill to hill and to river murmuring mildly 

And the twilight joyfully announces the awning of spring 

Like the spirit glorified

Filled and embellished the earth with the ripen crops in the field and buds rejuvenating 

With revelation of its light 

Sailing high, but faint and white 

And it seemed to me at most 

Like a poets song 

The crisp air is babbling to widespread nuance of colours

Thou brings unto me a tale of visionary atmosphere 

Across the lush green mountains, the old birds fly and spangles in the sun

Chirping and whistling in the morning sun

How mesmerizing the butterfly lift her veined wings and motionlessly lies

And gracefully lays on the sweet pigments of flowers 

Till the wind slides her sheer from the arch crest 

Fluttering and flittering her wings to lift them up and fly high in the crystal blue sky 

Like the queen of seasons 

Like the song-less wanderer mid the songful birds  

Like the daffodils opening up fully fruitful 

Like a rhyme of soothing ode 

Caught when the sunset its last glance imbues

With sudden grandeur, and the tree-tops high

Grasp that swift blazonry,

Then lend those tints to thee,

How mild the spring comes in 

A pleasing song so dear to me 

Dancing upon the rhythm of my soul 

Like the dancing Sakura so pink and pure with a song filled melodious spring.



February came as a silent poetry 

The land rejuvenated like a painting 

that whispered to soul 

Neither too cold nor too hot 

Crunched as cornflakes beneath

Feet on a crisp morn 




The month of sundries, mumps and measles fell like the notes of piano 

And daffodils opened up fully fruitful 

like a rhyme of soothing ode 

Echoes heard among dense trees 




And shrill wind embellished the horizon

Like an arrival of fortunate February 

Weaving in and weaving out of the drizzly day 

Like a stumps of gum trees and nuts bleating happily 




Brightly bejewelled

And the skyline is meeting the horizon 

Like a delightful display of various nuance in the vacillation of mind 

Amid the red and gold leaves 




Mixing and matching purposefully with the nuance of each colour 

Like a bird of feather flock together 

Through skies, the morning is getting blended with the kaleidoscope of colours 




Transforming the magical land into a land of orchestra 

Like the awning of spring 

As bright as champagne, while the frolicsome breeze uncoiled as the rustling of shrill wind 




Exchanging notes in this fabricated cave 

Cascading the branches to load their shelves 




To this sweet onset like the oak with a few brazen leaves.

Growing and gleaming in sunlight 

Like a poetry that is produced from autumn foliage 




The shrub with loaded leaves and winged fruits are unfolding like a figurative flowers for February 

And the festivals of my forbears are seeded by the pull of season first-quarter 




Dancing to and fro 

Like a crumbs of jumble, dance and dangles

Amidst the meadow and feathers 

Love is making its way back to fortunate February yet it came as a silent poetry and stood like a never ending saga.

To connect with me:









Amid the bare branches of tree

on this frosty January morn

look so cold so forlorn.

Frost and rime has covered the earth in a swathe of the white stuff lays



Yet the night blooming jasmines are nodding on their stems

Among the lush hills and giant trees

The night is darkening round me 

And the snow is glittering and glimmering upon the thin trunks of the pines 



Yet, soon it begin to melt as the winter has already begun to wane 

And the sun is approaching and thus shining bright at the foot of the trees 

Each trunk is painting a stroke of orange and yellow nuance. 



Curling up on the sofa under a blanket and watching the frosty pattern on the windows and ledges.

Coffee is getting cold 

Yet, the magical landscape full of ice and snow with illuminating light across the street is giving a closer look of noon



The midday is filled with so much light and the rays of sun is penetrating through it.

Splattering in every snowy nook and corner 

Crunching beneath the feet 

And the fragrance of mulled wine and ginger bread is giving the feeling of warmth 



Crisply, the day is whispering to cute snowflakes that are coming in the pathway 

Lost in the beautiful island and among the mountain, the fresh green grass is piercing out.



With the evenness and straightness of pines, the snow is gleaming upon the roofs of the houses and barges along the embarkment, they gives a magical feels 

Winter days and frost mornings 



The ray of light warms you yet the cold evenings and twinkling trees embarks your journey and gives you a bright and beautiful time of the year.

Such beautiful creation of god whispers to soul and the colour palettes of every nuance can be seen in this magical land of ice and cold.



From dazzling morning to noon, the sky is painted blue on blue yet slowly with a pace of time the colours begin to change from blue to a stray wisp of red hues giving a distant view of beautiful landscape. 

Yet, the beauty gets desolate and gets blended with the periwinkle nuance and the frolicsome breeze gives the feel of cold evenings. 



Like a kaleidoscope of colours.

The season seems to be changing its colours continuously like a dancers moves and fluttering feet’s.

As soon as the day begin to fade, the sky gets painted in the deeper and deeper shades of every nuance



And each stroke seems to reflect magic upon crisply snow and lush green mountain

Each stroke can be touched by merely glancing at them.

Like a palette of each nuance is playing with frost and rime.

To connect with me: