The Poppies

They kiss his inky feet,
with revered passion;
tremulous,
in soft red swells
breathing as one
in the filtered afterglow.

Obscure euphoria,
restless on coral wings,
listen,
half-entranced
to the amateur Venus
paying court.

Shadowed by the dusk:
transient splendour -
their sweet ignorance
drugs themselves to sleep
beneath hosts of
unchristened proboscis.

Introspection

Moonlight shimmers convex on her parasol,
dimple chinned,
like pomegranate buds of
an affectionate red.

Playing on her scar-less skin,
faintly ash against stars -
trembling, shivering
ripe with opiate undertones.

Deep in eyes so deep,
chords I’m scared to touch, of
ominous love, imbued with fragility
like origami dragonflies.

At Daybreak

She drank deep of the silence.
Then turned around.

Lips stung red with kisses nightlong.

Rain swallows the fog.
Stirring reflections of her magnificence.

That drugs the air with crude elegance.

Like opiate blood.

She wipes his finger-prints on the overcoat.
Ignoring those on her heart.

Its time to let out the pain.
Her bare arms expose the recent scars.
And wait.

Punishment is due.
Intimacy is seldom about love.

Mohana Das

Mohana Das is an aspiring writer from Kolkata, India. She has her poems published recently in the Sudden Thunder Anthology, by Silver Bow Publishing. She is currently a student of Electronics & Communication Engineering. Poetry is her passion, and she hopes to publish a book of her poetry soon.

You can read more of her work on her facebook page, Strings Of My Heart.