Halloween Poems. Part 3

Tricks and Treats

Trick or treat, hear my heartbeat
Speeding, but I’ll be discreet.
When you’re near, you commandeer
My breath til I’m in disrepair.

Treat or trick, my heart you flick,
To the beat of your drumsticks.
At me you’ll glance, I’ll be entranced,
And daydream our entire romance.

Trick or treat, hit the streets,
If my fondness for you will make you retreat.
When you leave, I’ll clutch at air,
But I’ll know we’re not to be a pair.

– Irnin Khan

Trick or Treat
image source

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Halloween Poems. Part 2

Candy

I don’t wish to be the candied apple of your eye,
It’s too high a pedestal for your affections to climb.
Instead, carve my nose with the tips of your fingers,
Shape my eyes with a gaze that lingers.
You can trace the scars and ridges of my shell,
As long you’ll have me, I’ll sit under your porch bell.
Wearing nothing but my widest grin,
I’ll be your pumpkin.

– Irnin Khan

pumpkin-1
image source

Halloween Poems. Part 1

Masks

Every time I begin to think I see you, in your eyes so blue,
I find myself suddenly hurled down the slopes of Kathmandu.
Even when it turns my world askew,
I remain waiting in this endless queue. For you.
How many times must I unmask you until I reach your core?
I have to tell you that my hands and my heart are starting to feel sore,
From engaging in this dance of yours.
After it all, when you find yourself swaying alone on the dance floor,
Know that you won’t ever find me forlorn.

– Irnin Khan

masks-quote-1

Moodboard: The Spring Diaries

spring-moodboard

the birds and the bees are pleased as peas,
as they spy fields of daisies, swaying with ease.
tees and frisbees, floating through the spring breeze,
out with the onesies, in with the posies,
tis the season of follies, whimsies and that springtime chemise.

*image credits (clockwise from top left)
Image 1, Image 2, Image 3, Image 4, Image 5, Image 6

Inspiration: Snaps of Kech

Moorish charm peeking out through the palms,
An air of art deco framing the occasional gecko,
Lily pads and succulents, cacti gardens that defy season, only sweeten Jacques’ rendition of Eden.

A few photos from the time I visited Jardin Majorelle in Marrakech.

Jardin Majorelle - photograph by Irnin Khan

Jardin Majorelle - photograph by Irnin Khan

Jardin Majorelle - photograph by Irnin Khan  Jardin Majorelle - photograph by Irnin Khan

Jardin Majorelle - photograph by Irnin Khan  Jardin Majorelle - photograph by Irnin Khan

Jardin Majorelle - photograph by Irnin Khan

Haemorrhage

You punctured a perfect bullet through my sensibility.
There exists no remedy for the irreversible, palpable damage.
The twisted, mangled webs you weave, creeping behind that magnetic exterior
Smother any remnant fond memories of you in my mind.
You, a tenacious spider. Eight-legged, poisonous, crawly creature.
No number of stitches can bridge this wound.
Reminiscence of unimaginable aching and anguish,
Recollection of a thousand sleepless nights,
And the longest hours of death to the world.
Your smiling eyes and flawless, transparent charm will not suffice.
No measure of repentance resonates from your depths,
Nor will it ever be on a par to your thoughtless actions.
A millions vessels may pass,
But you contaminate my convictions.
A thousand chisels have dug at this wall,
But never a mark pierces it.
No sponge, no gauze can stop this haemorrhage.
Seeing you perforates the flesh between all my fingers and toes,
To be near you is to be hit by a thousand trains.
Backward and forward motions during the hours to follow.
There is merely a band-aid covering this bullet hole.
It bleeds right through, savouring your perfect puncture.

Gradually, and then Suddenly

A gradual degradation of heart.
Could the human heart metamorphose into such an empty vessel?

A heavy flow of ink and ripples
Drunken words slur terribly through an infinite space
An empty corner, an empty pillow, an eternally empty crevice.
Sleep calls, you don’t belong here.
Nor do I belong there.

A turquoise swell rises and falls, resting upon the cornea.
A comfortable, disconcerting silence hangs about the air.
Pinpricks palpitate perfect perplexities.
Frivolities fritter away fickle bona fide affections.

An emotional affair with contingencies
Distractions of a derelict variety
An attachment of sorts with refuse and insecurities
Abstractions alienating the ailments of algophobia.

The in between times capitulate my capillaries
Encapsulation of an incomplete moment tortures the depths of being
The subtleties of façade fracture the finetuned barricades
Stillness of heart lingers longer and longer
Empty vessels, empty veins, empty artilleries, emptied heart murmurs.

I can’t begin to tell you.
Suddenly excruciatingly numb.