Lilies

Lilies

 

Gentle is the night,

Encrouched upon the dead.

Chaffs the still pallor,

A windswept grace.

 

The clouds bid adieu,

From the Heaven’s stores.

Jostles their gaping mouth to drink,

A dew so pure.

 

Essence from the midnight brew performed,

O’er the charcoal furnace.

Nectar to pry it open,

A bud so encased.

 

Ruffles their fleeting frock affair,

Creased from eternal sleep.

Dance of a casual stretch and yawn,

Nature a choreographed display.

 

Soft is the morning sun,

Upon their tender petals.

Hums the warmth a lullaby,

Sleep, my baby sleep.

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This awesome picture is taken by Alan and I shall briefly explain my poetry.

It describes lilies ( buds:gaping mouth, lilies: frock-adorned) in the pond (still pallor), blooming at night, with the help of the rain (dew, nectare, the thing that the clouds bid adieu to, something in the midnight’s brew). (Ripples: the windswept grace)( yes I know, I could have very well got all these over in one sentence, forgive me!) And the last stanza simply links back to the first stanza where the lilies were described to be asleep (or dead/in bud form). But it could be read as the lilies resting after their strenuous effort to bloom.

I personally liked the first stanza very much.